Devil Without a Cause

by Terri Garey

  Gabriel stiffened, setting his shoulders and resting both palms flat on the altar. “Formed from the darkness that was always within your soul, I suppose,” he answered quietly. “And yet still you question the One’s judgment—do you think He did not know the darkness was there?”

  “Why have you come?” Sammy growled, scarce able to control his growing rage.

  Gabriel turned, facing him head-on. “I want to make you an offer,” was his unexpected reply. “One you would do well not to refuse.”

  Rage was replaced by surprise, followed by mocking laughter. “An offer?” he asked, when he was able. “What could you have that I would possibly want?” Against his will, an image flashed into his mind: wavy brown hair, flowing in the wind, the laughing smile his long-ago brother had flashed over a shoulder as they raced together through the skies.

  Gabriel said nothing for a moment, then looked pointedly toward the impassive black-winged shadow still standing by the door. “This is a private matter, between you and me.”

  “Do not listen to him, Master.” Nyx stepped forward, voice low and urgent. His eyes glowed red, and were fixed on Gabriel. “His words are poison, steeped in honey. He dares to come here and make demands—let me kill him for you.”

  Two powerful beings—one black as night, one clothed in light—exchanged baleful stares.

  “You are welcome to try, demon,” Gabriel bit off tightly, “but I wouldn’t advise it.”

  Nyx took another step forward, the tips of his wings beginning to quiver like the fur of a black cat poised to pounce.

  Sammy allowed himself a small smile, knowing his servant would not attack until given leave to do so. “My, my. Nyx is usually so quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t seem to like you.”

  “The feeling is mutual. He is an abomination.”

  “Where are your feelings of brotherly love, Gabriel? Nyx cannot help who he is, any more than you can.”

  “Your mockery is wasted on me, Samael”—Gabe’s blue eyes fastened once again on his—“for I know the secrets of your heart.”

  A sneer of disgust twisted Sammy’s upper lip. “You know nothing.” He turned on his heel, and began to walk away.

  “I know about Nicki Styx, and what you did for her.”

  He paused, back stiff.

  “I know why, as well.”

  For the space of a few heartbeats, Sammy fought the urge to raise his hand and release his faithful servant, who eagerly awaited his signal. Mastering his temper, he merely turned his head and clipped, “Leave us.”

  “But—”

  “Leave us,” he repeated, in a voice that brooked no argument.

  With a final red-eyed glare at Gabriel that made clear his feelings on the matter, the Chief Servant of Darkness stalked silently from the chamber, his disapproval lingering like the shadows he himself resembled.

  Samael allowed the silence that followed his departure to go on, to build. He said nothing, nor did he look at his old friend. Instead he strolled toward a marble bench, festooned with cobwebs, his footsteps echoing coldly in the vaulted chamber. A quick flick of a finger, and the bench was clean, the dust and detritus of centuries gone as though it had never been. “Where are my manners?” he asked smoothly, and a table appeared, topped with a pitcher and two goblets. “Sit. Heaven is so far away . . . you must be parched.” As he poured, more items appeared: a tray, laden with fruit and a loaf of bread, still steaming from the oven. “Not exactly ambrosia,” he said wryly, “but a nice, full-bodied cabernet is as close as we come in this world.”

  Only then did he turn, holding out the goblet to Gabriel, who made no move to take it.

  “Suit yourself.” Sammy shrugged, and took a sip of his own.

  “Earthly pleasures like food and wine will not fill the emptiness within your soul,” Gabriel said. “Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  Sammy’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his goblet. “You dare much, brother,” he said, imbuing the word with as much sarcasm as he could, “for one who dines each day on pompous platitudes and the lies fed to children.”

  “Blaspheme all you like,” the other man said calmly. “I’ve come to help you.”

  A noise of disgust answered him.

  “Hear me out.” Gabriel’s eyes, warm brown shot with golden flecks, were trained on his. “I offer you a chance for redemption. A chance to show the One that you regret your disobedience, that you still want forgiveness.”

  Sammy laughed, but it was an ugly sound. “And therein lies the problem, old friend.” He turned away, slapping his goblet down on the table so that a tiny portion of liquid spilled over the rim. “I don’t regret anything, except believing in forgiveness to begin with.”

  “You lie.”

  “Yes, I do!” His sudden shout filled the chamber, echoing against the cold stone walls. Whirling to face Gabriel again, he added, “I lie, as I was lied to! I tempt, as I was tempted! And when the temptation proves too much”—here his voice lowered—“and it always proves too much—it fills me with pleasure and satisfaction.” His lip curled. “The only thing that gives me greater pleasure is sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

  Gabriel’s lips thinned, but he said nothing.

  “I feel sorry for you,” Sammy spat, hoping to find a weak link in Gabriel’s armor. “You’ve never known the touch of a woman, have you? The silky feel of her hair, the softness of an inner thigh, the curve of a breast within your hand. Have you read the Song of Solomon, Gabriel? Do you ever wonder what you’re missing?”

  To his surprise, the angel nodded. “I do. But I don’t act upon it, for it is forbidden the sons of the One to sleep with the daughters of men.”

  “He didn’t forbid me!” Sammy shouted in reply. “Why is that, I wonder? Why didn’t He tell me that what I did was wrong before I did it?” A sweep of his arm, and the contents of the table crashed to the floor. The question he’d asked himself for eons came bubbling to the surface, along with his rage. “If He’s so all-powerful, so all-knowing, then why didn’t He stop me, Gabriel?”

  The silence within the chamber was absolute, save for the hollow sound of the now-empty goblet as it rolled into a corner.

  “I don’t know,” Gabriel murmured, in a voice filled with compassion.

  Having no need of compassion, Sammy raked a hand through his spiky blond hair.

  “It’s not too late, Samael.” Gabe took a step closer.

  “Samael is dead,” he answered harshly. “And what is left is the stuff of nightmares.”

  “That’s not true”—Gabe took a step closer—“and you know it. Even now you feel tendrils of who you once were stirring, moving murkily beneath the darkness that cloaks you.”

  “How poetic,” he sneered.

  “How frightened you are.” Gabe shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. “The Prince of Darkness, the Great Deceiver, who deceives even himself.”

  The urge to kill, to rend, to maim rose like a black fog in his mind, testing, probing against the edges of his sanity. He let it feed for a moment before forcing it away, blessedly taking much of his anger with it. “Go away, Gabriel,” he answered wearily, “before I show you what truly lies beneath the darkness.”

  “For the sake of what we once shared, in a long ago time when we were both innocent and unaware, I beg you, old friend, hear me out.”

  “Stop it,” Sammy said, scrubbing a hand over his face. He still wanted to smash his fist into Gabriel’s perfect face, rip the hair from his heavenly head, and cast him down deeper than the deepest pit ever created. Instead he found himself growling, “Say whatever it is you came to say, and then get out of my temple.”

  Gabriel smiled, and something painful twisted inside Sammy’s chest, like a knife to the heart he no longer had. Before he gave in to the urge to put a fist through those gleaming, perfect teeth, he turned away, staring at a dusty marbled column as he listened.

  “You showed mercy to the woman you love, and in doing so, you opened a crack in the blackened sh
ell of misery and bitterness that surrounds your heart.”

  Yes, Nicki had found a way inside his heart without even trying, and nestled there still, damn her.

  “Been spying on me, Gabriel? I never took you for a voyeur—how very naughty of you.”

  Gabriel ignored the sarcasm. “Let me show you how to widen that crack, to break free of the path you’ve taken.”

  “Oh, by all means,” he replied, with exquisite politeness. “Please. Show me.”

  “Join me in doing what you were created to do, brother. I have a lost soul in need of a guardian angel, and I offer you the job.”

  For the first time in several thousand centuries, Sammy found himself at a total loss for words.

  “A mortal woman, in need of intervention and guidance. You could help her—indeed, you could save her.”

  Laughter, low in his throat. Swiveling his head, he found his voice. “Why, in the name of all that’s unholy, would I want to do that? Less souls for your side, more for mine, remember?” He shook his head, amazed by the suggestion. “Save her yourself.”

  “I seek to save a different soul today,” Gabriel answered quietly. “Yours.”

  Time, which there had been too much of, seemed to stand still.

  “The gates of Heaven have been closed against me for eons. Are you saying they are now open?” How he despised the flicker of hope that made him ask the question.

  His old friend shook his head. “No, sadly they are not—not yet. But if you do this, if you show me that you haven’t forgotten who you once were—who you are—then you give me a reason to beseech the One on your behalf.”

  Sammy rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, beseech away, Gabriel. I’m sure it will do a tremendous amount of good.”

  “You forget my position. I stand at the One’s right hand. He will hear me, I know it.”

  “So you want me to turn my back on everything I’ve done, everything I’ve created, for the chance I might be forgiven? You want me to sheathe my claws, retract my horns, give away my kingdom”—he swept an angry hand expansively over the echoing chamber—“for the mere chance of regaining what I once had?”

  “Ah, yes,” Gabriel said calmly, eerily echoing the words Sammy said to Lilith earlier, “the kingdom of the damned.” He looked around as well, taking in the dust, the cobwebs, and the utter emptiness that surrounded them. “I can certainly see why you wouldn’t want to give it up.”

  Too astounded to be angry, Sammy merely stared, disbelieving, as Gabriel shrugged.

  “Consider it a challenge, if you must. Do it as a favor to an old friend, do it to prove you still can—do it out of boredom, for Heaven’s sake—just do it.”

  Unbelievably, despite the transparency of Gabriel’s arguments, he found himself tempted—once again—to do something he wasn’t supposed to. He was the fucking Prince of Darkness, for fuck’s sake, and he could do anything he damn well pleased. “Do you know, Gabriel,” he said quietly, “that’s the first thing you’ve said to me that makes sense.”

  Nothing was beyond him, including helping a few pathetic mortals find happiness.

  Or not.

  Turning away from the flash of eagerness in Gabe’s eyes, he nodded thoughtfully, mind already working. “I’ll do it, but I’ll do it my way. None of your mealymouthed prayers or good deeds or sackcloth and ashes.” He shot his old friend a warning look. “You’ll stay out of it, do you hear?”

  Gabriel nodded, smiling. “I’ll stay out of it.”

  Eyeing him narrowly, Sammy replied, “Why do I suddenly feel as though I’m not the only liar in the room?”

  Gabriel stiffened, but Sammy was in no mood for further debate. “Tell me her name and where to find her. Then leave it to me.”

  There was a slight hesitation. “Her name is Faith McFarland, and she lives in Atlanta, Georgia. She—”

  Cutting him off with a raised palm, he swiveled his head. “I’m quite familiar with Atlanta,” he said shortly. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?”

  “Coincidence only,” said Gabriel, “though I’m told that Southern girls can be somewhat”—he hesitated—“interesting. It’s no surprise that—”

  “That’s enough,” he said curtly. Gabe was about to mention Nicki, and Sammy couldn’t have that. Nicki was his, and not up for discussion. “I can find out everything else I need to know about Faith McFarland on my own.”

  “Arrogant ass,” Gabriel murmured. He turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not referring to a donkey either.”

  Sammy suppressed the urge to smile. “We’re done here.” Striding toward the arched doorway where he’d entered, he added, “If I need you, I’ll let you know, but in the meantime, get the hell out of my temple.”

  “I warn you, Samael,” Gabriel said loudly, his voice echoing in Solomon’s grand chamber. “Do not betray my trust. This is your last chance at redemption.”

  Not bothering to reply, Sammy walked away, knowing his former brother-in-arms would not—and could not—follow. The outer temple was one thing, but the hallways of his stronghold were deep and dark, and just as he was banned from the skies, his private domain was anathema to an archangel. The very walls themselves would repel the light and goodness of one such as Gabriel.

  For a moment he heard nothing but the angry rush of blood in his ears, and the sound of his own footsteps behind him, echoing coldly through hallways of stone.

  A few seconds later there was a faint rustle of wings as Nyx returned to his usual position, a silent shadow at his back.

  “Master?”

  He didn’t deign to turn around. “Yes?”

  “Surely you don’t mean to do as he asks.”

  Dark laughter snaked its way into the corridor. “Oh, Nyx.” Samael tossed his answer carelessly over a gray-clad shoulder. “I gave Gabriel my word, after all, and you know how much that means to me.”

  The nightshade’s eyes flared a brighter shade of red as his unholy chuckle joined that of his master.

  Chapter Two

  Brain stem glioma.

  In the quiet of the chapel, Faith McFarland put her head in her hands and cried. She’d been crying on and off all night, unable to take her eyes off Nathan’s pale, sleeping face. Her son—her beautiful little boy—had a tumor at the base of his brain. What was she going to do? How would she cope? How could she fix it?

  “God,” she moaned. “Oh God, please help me.”

  Just two months ago Nathan had been a happy, healthy preschooler, obsessed with cars and SpongeBob SquarePants. Then came the headaches, the vomiting, the lack of appetite and energy. What she’d hoped was just an intestinal bug had become a nightmare of epic proportions—blood work, CAT scans, and MRIs, all culminating in the horrible news she’d gotten yesterday afternoon.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Wynecke had told her, “but the MRI confirms a small lesion at the base of Nathan’s skull. We’ll need to get a tissue sample to determine if it’s malignant.”

  Her first thought had been that she’d misheard him—the words he’d used made no sense. But there had been no mistaking the look of concern and sympathy in his eyes, and no mistaking what he’d said next.

  Cancer. Immediate surgery. Biopsy, possible chemotherapy, radiation therapy.

  Which was why she was sitting here now, in an empty chapel at Columbia Hospital, while her only child was lying on an operating table, his life in someone else’s hands.

  “Please,” she whispered, raising her eyes to the wooden cross on the wall before her. “Please don’t let him die.”

  “Do you think He hears you?” came a voice.

  Startled, she looked around, but there was no one.

  “Do you think He cares?”

  She stood, grasping the empty pew in front of her.

  “He doesn’t, you know. The life of one poor, sick child means nothing to Him in the big scheme of things.”

  It was a man’s voice, smooth and matter-of-fact. Frightened, Faith moved to leave the chapel,
but stopped short at the distinct click coming from the chapel door. “Hello?” she asked loudly, wiping tears from her face with one hand. “Who’s there?”

  No one answered. The ensuing silence was laden with tension, causing the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. Moving quickly to the door, she tried the handle, but it was locked. Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she pounded on the door with her palm. “Hello? Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? I’m locked in.”

  “No one hears you,” the voice said, “except me.”

  Faith spun around, beginning to panic. One way in, one way out, and the way was blocked. “Help,” she shouted at the top of her lungs, pounding at the door.

  Columbia was a busy hospital. There’d been plenty of people around when she’d made her way here after they’d taken Nathan to surgery, unable to stand the sight of his empty hospital bed.

  No one came, and try as she might, she could hear nothing on the other side of the door.

  Willing herself to calm, she scanned the quiet chapel. No cameras, no speakers, just a small room, plain wooden pews filled with a scattering of Bibles, a prie-dieu for kneeling, and a simple cross on the wall. Blinking back tears, she hammered again on the door with her fists. “Help, someone! I’m locked in the chapel! Let me out.”

  “ ‘Malignant’ is such an ugly word, isn’t it?” The man’s voice came from nowhere, and from everywhere. “A big, ugly word that just doesn’t fit with the image of such a small head, capped with brown curls, just like his mother’s.”

  Faith lifted a trembling hand to her mouth and pressed it there, hard, to keep back the sobs that rose in her throat.

  “So helpless,” the voice went on, “so innocent. Nathan trusted you to keep him safe—yet you’re helpless as well, aren’t you?”

  “Stop it!” she screamed, frightened out of her wits. Who was it? Who could possibly be so cruel? “Leave me alone!” Crying harder now, she tugged on the door handle with both hands, desperate to leave the voice and the chapel behind.

  “I can help you, Faith McFarland,” said the voice. “I’m the only one who can help you.”