“My dearest, most beloved Michael,” Gabriel said, “if it makes you happy to say thanks, as much as it seems strange to me, then you go right ahead and keep on doing it. I can’t say I understand it, ’cause I really don’t, but if it makes you happy, then I’m happy.”
Michael’s expression was almost radiant. “You make me happy, da bao. Always and only you. Even before we realized that we both felt the same way toward each other, being in your company always gave me the greatest pleasure.”
“Even when I lost my shit and yelled at you all those centuries ago back in Constantinople during the Crusades?” Gabriel asked slyly.
Michael chuckled softly. “I confess that was not a happy time, and seeing you so angry and so upset at the loss of so many humans you cared for was not pleasant, but yes, in an obscure way, to be in your presence and share your sorrows as well as your joys was enough for me.”
Gabriel ran his hand through Michael’s hair. “I wish I’d known how you felt about me earlier.”
“I did not know what to say,” Michael said with a shrug. “I believed you to be wholly interested in the humans with whom you cavorted.”
“Yeah, I was a bit of a gigolo for a while. But if I knew how you felt, all that would’ve stopped, and I would’ve wooed you like you’ve never been wooed,” Gabriel said.
Michael blushed. “You woo me daily, Gabriel.”
“I don’t woo you enough,” Gabriel said. “Anyway, I’m damn glad that I decided to do something about how I felt when we had that meeting all those years ago. Bloody hell, that feels like a lifetime ago. Was it really only last century?”
“Much has happened since that day,” Michael agreed. “Both good and bad.”
“Aye and strange too,” Gabriel said. “And we should go inside, ’cause the tide’s coming in.”
Michael turned to look at the sea. “It is,” he said. “Shall I move us, or do you wish to?”
“You do it,” Gabriel said. “I’ll bring our clothes and the blanket.”
“As you say,” Michael said.
The next moment, they were lying on their bed in the huge, sprawling house they shared, the curtains drawn back to reveal the lush greenery of their private paradise beyond. Gabriel dropped the clothes and blanket to the floor carelessly and stretched, lazily flicking a hand at the fireplace in the corner of the room to light the wood laid within.
“Are you cold?” Michael asked.
“No, but it’ll get chilly as it gets darker,” Gabriel said. “And a fire warms the room nicely, don’t you think?”
Michael’s expression was warmer than any fire could possibly be, Gabriel thought. “I do,” he said. “And it is very pleasant to lie with you here on our bed with such beauties to be seen from our windows.”
“Mishka,” Gabriel said as he thought of something, “do you miss your place in Oregon? I know we ain’t in Salem often, and that’s where your main base of Venatores operations is. Do you miss it?”
Michael hummed. “I do not know that ‘miss’ is the right term. There are days that I would welcome the idea of never having to return. And there are days that I could not be pried away. It is my home, however, and it is the home of my Venatores. It feels to me more like a large family home with many children who squabble and fight, and that is when they train!”
Gabriel guffawed at that and Michael gave him a small smile.
“They are wildly argumentative,” Michael went on, “and their lives are as a blink of an eye to one of angelkind. But I have been there—for the most part—since the Americas were first colonized by the British. It is more a comfort to know the house is there and the souls within it are Venatores. So in that regard, I do not miss it. My apartment in the building is more of an office, in any case. It is not truly a home. Not like here.”
“I see.” Gabriel took Michael’s hand in his and twined his fingers with his lover’s. “I understand what you’re saying. Though, between us? I’m well glad we’re here. Lyudmila’s people are lovely and all, but bloody hell, they’re loud.”
This time, Michael laughed. “Yes, they are,” he said. “But it is a good loudness, don’t you think? They are happy, generally. Even with a crisis going on around them, they can still find moments of joy.”
“Aye, it’s a fine example of the resilience of humanity,” Gabriel said. “And I love the coffee that Lyudmila makes in her samovar.”
“Indeed? I confess I have not tasted it,” Michael said.
“You should ask her when we head back,” Gabriel suggested. “It’s really good.”
“If there is time, I shall,” Michael said.
“I wonder how the others are dealing with the waiting,” Gabriel mused.
Michael snorted softly. “I wager that Uriel is chaffing and Raziel is impatient. The rest of our brotherhood will be calm and endure, however.”
Gabriel grinned at that. “Then Uri and Raz will have a fight, and we’ll hear the shouting all the way over here. Then they’ll make up and have make up sex. If we’re lucky, one of ’em will remember to shield wherever they happen to be so we don’t have to hear that too.”
Michael pulled a face. “I will pray very hard that they do remember.”
Gabriel laughed softly and pulled Michael into a hug. “I love you, Mishka.”
Michael hugged him back. “And I love you also, Gabriel.”
Gabriel felt a sense of calm contentment wash over him as he held his lover and listened to the sounds of Belle Coeur.
Chapter Five
THE WIND whipped across the Øresund Strait, cutting like a dagger over Salthom. The island was situated on the Danish side of the invisible ocean border between Denmark and Sweden, and at this time of year, it was bitingly cold. Agrat drew her battered black leather motorcycle jacket closer around her, wishing the thick woolen gloves she wore kept her fingers warmer than they did.
Beside her, long auburn hair flying in the wind, was Lilith. Lilith had donned a cashmere coat, the collar and cuffs lined with fur, and she looked unaffected and unharried by the cold wind. Agrat wished she felt as calm as her older sister. Lilith was looking at the ground, walking slowly through calf-high grass. Agrat didn’t know what Lilith was looking for—as far as she could tell, the land looked unremarkable.
“Here it is,” Lilith said suddenly, and Agrat started.
“Here what is?” Agrat asked. Her teeth were beginning to chatter in the cold.
“The spot where the portal between Earth and Purgatory is,” Lilith said. “Well, one of them, anyway. There are quite a few of these places around, but this island is the least inhabited one, so we won’t be noticed as much.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Agrat shivered. “Hurry and open it, Lilitu. I’m freezing.”
Lilith shot her an amused look. “You know it’s spring right now, yes? Heading into summer?”
“Yes, and it’s still freezing.”
Lilith chuckled. “All right. I’ll try it. We might not be able to open it at all.”
“Yes, I know.” Agrat took a deep breath. “Still, until we try, we won’t know.”
“Quite.” Lilith drew a dagger from the inside pocket of her coat and sliced open her palm with the blade. She held her hand out over the spot she had indicated in the ground, and blood dripped steadily onto the dirt. For several minutes, nothing happened, and Agrat began to think that the portal wouldn’t open at all.
Just as she was about to tell her sister to give it up, there was a loud grinding noise, as if two large rocks were slowly being pulled apart. The ground began to open, revealing a narrow crack in the earth that was filled with yellowish light.
“Shall we?” Lilith asked.
Agrat nodded, moving to stand beside her. “Yes,” she said, taking Lilith’s hand in her own gloved one.
Lilith gave her hand a small squeeze and then led the way, stepping into the light.
It was like traveling through a tunnel of golden light and yellow lasers. Agrat closed her eye
s and clung tighter to Lilith’s hand as they moved between the two realities, tossed along the portal’s route like a pair of twigs blown by the wind up on the Danish island of Salthom above them. And then suddenly, they came to a stop, and both women stumbled, thrown off-balance by the abrupt end of their journey.
“That was unusual,” Lilith said.
“To say the least,” Agrat agreed. She looked around them. “So where are we now?”
“A holding area, I think. Between Hell and Earth, there’s a sort of room that’s completely devoid of anything. It’s the spot where you prepare yourself to step into Earth or Hell. I think this is the same sort of thing. And”—Lilith turned this way and that—“I think this is as far as Naamah will let us go until we’ve made our case.”
“You are certainly correct on that score,” said a new voice.
Agrat turned. Standing several feet away, between two elaborately carved marble columns, was Naamah.
She looked the same as she always had—jet black hair that fell to her thighs held back with a pair of tortoiseshell combs. Her dark eyes were hooded, and her expression was wary. She was thin, almost emaciated, her figure seeming even thinner when compared with the lush curves of both Agrat and Lilith. She wore a simple gray robe that fell to her feet, belted at her waist by a red leather strap.
“Hello, Naamah,” Lilith said as if they’d spoken only last week. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. What brings you two to my front door?” Naamah looked at the two of them, her gaze steely.
Agrat shot Lilith a quick look. Then she squared her shoulders and answered, “We’ve been talking, Lilitu and I. And the more we talked, the angrier we became. We realized that what’s going on in Earth, Heaven, and Hell is wrong. Things need to change. And nothing really changes unless it falls apart. We can’t do much on our own, not really. But with you, working together as three sisters, we thought we could do so much more.”
Naamah quirked an eyebrow. “Really. So you’ve given up your husband, Agrat, and your lover, Lilith, and deserted the old powers to come and help me establish a new one?”
“Yes,” Lilith said. “I’m tired of being referred to as ‘that whore of Lucifer’s.’ I’m sure Agrat’s tired of being called Heaven’s whore, too. We are, after all, much, much more than that. And frankly, I’m sick of ‘whore’ being used as an insult.”
Agrat nodded. She agreed with Lilith on that score, and it made her tired to think about how many people—well, intelligent life-forms, as it wasn’t limited to humans—treated her as second-class or evil because of what she was, despite the care that she and Ishtahar put into helping abused humans around the globe.
Naamah looked from one to the other again, her expression still one of heavy suspicion. “And you’re both prepared to forgive me about Eisheth?”
Agrat scowled. “Not entirely. I loved our baby sister, Naamah, and what you did was terrible!”
Naamah rolled her eyes. “It was necessary. I’m not happy about what I did, but it had to be done. You’re here, you say, to do good. What I did was part of that. It set the process in motion.”
“Be that as it may,” Lilith said, smoothly interrupting, “I think we can agree to disagree on that point. It is, after all, one element of the larger whole. So will you accept us, Naamah? Will you allow us to help you?”
Naamah frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. Agrat watched, wondering what was going on in Naamah’s head. It had been eons since she’d spoken with her, and now she realized that she didn’t know Naamah as well as she had thought. In fact, she didn’t know Naamah at all.
Finally, Naamah sighed and jerked her head in the direction of Purgatory. “Come on, then,” she said.
“Thank you,” Lilith said. She moved toward the columns. Agrat followed, still clutching Lilith’s hand. As they stepped between the columns, the air shimmered around them and then the sound of rock slamming together filled Agrat’s ears. She winced at the sound as it echoed through her skull. Lilith rubbed her ear with her free hand and then the noise was gone.
“Welcome to Purgatory,” Naamah said. “I suppose I should introduce you to my children.”
Agrat blinked. She’d had more enthusiastic offers, after all. But Lilith smiled and nodded.
“We would love to meet them. Wouldn’t we, Aggie?”
“Oh yes,” Agrat said. “Very much. Who’s the father, Naamah?”
Naamah pulled a face. “Some Grigori. I don’t remember his name. I pulled him out of Hell during the Seventy Years War and used him to father my children. Then I sent him back. I don’t think Lucifer missed him.”
Lilith frowned. “I don’t recall any Grigori disappearing,” she said.
“You wouldn’t.” Naamah tossed her hair. “He said you were all more interested in the progress of the war than what the Grigori suffered. Actually, he spent most of his time here whining. I hate whining. I was glad to be rid of him.” She turned on her heel. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder.
Agrat shot Lilith another look and used her power to hide what she was thinking to her sister. They would need to communicate with each other in stealth anyway; now was as good a time as any to test their precautions.
“Lilitu, how are you taking all of this?”
“I’m furious, Aggie. I really want to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze. What has she done? She’ll tear everything to pieces and then burn them forever.”
“You’re keeping remarkably calm, though,” Agrat thought.
“I have to. I have to keep the mission firmly in my mind. Work now. Revenge later. I’m so angry about what she said about Eisheth… for the love of little demons, I’ve not been so furious since Eden!”
“That’s… quite a while,” Agrat thought. “But I know what you mean. Eisheth didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“No, she didn’t.” Lilith’s mental voice was stern. “But I will avenge her. Will you help me?”
“I was hoping you’d ask. I didn’t want you to have all the fun.” Agrat paused. “Did Adramelek tell you and Lightbringer about Eisheth’s soul resting in the stars?”
“Like a starry cemetery? Yes, he did. I thought that was a good final resting place for her, but it’s not something she should have needed for millennia to come.”
“Agreed.”
Their conversation was cut off as Naamah led them through a pair of heavy oak doors and into a palatial living room. There was a fire laid in a marble fireplace that was only slightly smaller than an American shopping mall, or so it seemed to Agrat, and several couches and sofas around it. One entire wall was given over to bookshelves, and those shelves were full almost to bursting with ancient tomes. Another part of the wall was lined with glass cases full of antiquities, and she squeezed Lilith’s hand once, discreetly indicating those cases to her sister. Lilith’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but she gave no other sign of what she was thinking.
On one of the couches sat two young people that Agrat estimated to be in their early twenties. A male and female—twins, to judge by how much alike they looked—sat side by side, looking at their mother with expressions of trepidation on their faces.
“They’re terrified of her,” Agrat said.
“I can smell it,” Lilith replied. “Considering Naamah, though, I am utterly unsurprised.”
“This is my son, Arthur,” Naamah was saying, pointing at the young man, “and this is my daughter, Morgana.” She pointed at the young woman.
The two stood up and bowed—somewhat clumsily, Agrat saw. They were pale skinned and pale haired, and their eyes were bright blue, that inhuman sapphire blue that was the color of all angel eyes—except for Michael’s. Agrat smiled at the two of them, trying to convey comfort and warmth.
“Arthur, Morgana, these are your aunts,” Naamah said. “This is Lilith, she’s the oldest. And this is Agrat. She’s the second youngest.”
“Hello, Lady Lilith, Lady Agrat,” the two said in unison.
“As
you can see, they’re twins,” Naamah said. “Now I’ll show you to a room you can share while you’re here.”
“Ah… can’t we get to know our niece and nephew a little?” Agrat asked.
Naamah gave her a blank look of incomprehension. “Why?”
“Because they’re family,” Agrat said, unable to keep her surprise out of her voice.
“Oh, that.” Naamah shrugged. “You can do that after I give you the grand tour. They have to stay here, anyway. I’m expecting a guest and they’re not allowed to leave this room while he’s here.”
“Oh?” Lilith looked from the twins to Naamah.
“Yes.” Naamah’s face creased into an expression of cunning. “I don’t mind if you two see him, but I think it’d be better if he didn’t see you.”
“Maybe we should stay here with our niece and nephew while he’s here?” Agrat suggested.
“All right, but he won’t be here for an hour. I’ll show you where you can rest and where the kitchen and bathroom are, then bring you back here.” Naamah led the way across the room to a courtyard full of lush green plant life, a stone fountain bubbling merrily at its center. “Do you like my house?”
“It’s very nice,” Agrat said.
“I copied the design from one of those old Roman mansions from the Renaissance. I liked those houses a lot. Here in Purgatory the residents look at me as if I’m a goddess, so I had them build it for me.” Naamah laughed. “It’s nice being worshipped.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Agrat said.
“I would,” Lilith said. “And it does have its uses.”
Naamah chuckled. “I think the offerings that are brought to me are far more pleasant than what are offered to you. Dead humans? Yuck.”
Lilith pasted a smile on her face that did not, Agrat saw, quite reach her eyes. “Devotion is expressed in many ways, you’re right.”
“I am,” Naamah agreed. She led them across the courtyard and through another door, then down a wide corridor set with broad windows. They went around a corner and through another door, and then Naamah stopped and threw open another set of double doors. The room beyond was a simple guest room containing two beds, a large closet, a washstand and basin, and two bedside tables. There was a mirror set into the door of the closet, and there were windows set high into the walls that let in the light.
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