“Nevertheless,” Michael said, still blushing, “it is unseemly to discuss these things.”
Everyone laughed, and Michael buried his face in his hands. Gabriel made an “aww” noise and moved to his lover, hugging him.
“Baby, we’re just teasing,” he said softly.
“I know.” Michael shook his head and looked up. “I am not accustomed to such… lewd topics.”
Gabriel kissed his forehead. “I know. And I love you for it.”
“Please, Gabriel,”—Michael squirmed a little—“not so much affection in public.”
“So, Gabe,” Angelique began, “you Archangels are all the same species—why don’t any of you look the same?”
Gabriel grinned. “Beneath what you see, we do. We’re all creatures of light and energy underneath. But we choose physical forms that you lot, non-angels, are able to see. If you were to see us in our true forms without any sort of protection, you’d go blind.”
“Okay, but why is Michael Chinese and you’re… whatever it is you are? I can’t place your accent,” Angelique explained.
“Northern English,” Gabriel said. “And Michael loves China. I love northern England. I also love Russia. Five hundred or so years ago, I was Russian. Now, I’m northern English. From Northumberland, to be exact. I’m awfully fond of the place and its people.”
“Huh.” Angelique digested that, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That makes sense, I guess. Thanks, Gabe. I’ve been wondering about that for the longest time. I guess the other Archangels are the same? Choose to look like they come from parts of the world they’re really fond of?”
“Aye.” Gabriel nodded. “Got it in one, Trouble.”
She grinned at that. “Awesome. Well, I have no more questions.”
“I’ve got a question.” It was Danny, tall, blond, married to Lily, the beta of the squad, and so similar in resemblance to Gabriel’s late adopted son, John, that at times it made Gabriel’s eyes tear up to look at him.
“Shoot,” Gabriel said, becoming very interested in his water bottle.
“If you guys can move so fast, what good are we? I mean, angels and demons are what we’re supposed to hunt, but how are we supposed to catch you?”
Michael smiled. “You are all shifters,” he said. “And your animals are various species of wolf. The wolf is a tracker and a hunter. Allow yourselves to be guided by your wolf when you hunt. Lily has much experience in this. Let her show you how she survives on the land when she has nothing but her wits to keep her company.”
Lily blushed prettily. “Thank you, sir.”
Michael nodded to her. “You are one of my finest recruits,” he told her. “In fact, this entire squad is my finest achievement. I know you will not let me down.”
“No pressure then,” Baxter Sweet, the squad joker, said.
“Of course not,” Michael said, missing the sarcasm entirely. “I have faith.”
“Even less pressure,” Baxter said, laughing. “Boss-man, I hope that when we fuck up, you won’t be too disappointed.”
“Language, Sweet. And I will not, of course I will not.” Michael looked around the little group. “Now it is your turn to train. Please pair up and begin by warming up your muscles. Slow stretches, gradually speeding up.”
Gabriel leaned back against one of the support beams that held up the broad veranda that was a new addition to the building. It seemed that while he had been recovering from the serious injury that Semjaza had inflicted on him six months ago during their battle to the death, some enterprising resident had taken it upon themselves to install verandas and decks and playground equipment in the spacious backyard of Michael’s property. There were also two backup generators for power, which Gabriel thought was a good idea, and a large rainwater tank. All in all, the improvements made it more homey, and Gabriel liked it.
Anna, a Russian immigrant who was married to one of the lieutenants of the Venatores, came out of the house, carrying a tray with glasses half-full of ice and a tall pitcher of lemonade with mint leaves.
“Lemonade, Gabriel?” she asked as she drew up beside him.
“That’d be welcome, aye.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. “I’ll pour,” he added, “so you don’t end up dropping everything.”
“Thank you.” Anna hesitated a moment and then spoke again, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Is everything okay, sir? I mean, with the world. The war is over and the Gates of Hell are closed again, and all these things that happened to you all since the war… will there be quiet now?”
Gabriel picked up his full glass of lemonade and took a sip. It was perfect, the right blend of sweetness, mint, and tart lemon juice. “One can never really know for sure, Anna. I don’t know. I don’t think it’ll be as bad as it was for a while, but then, I could be wrong. I ain’t omniscient. The best I can say is to enjoy the peace while we have it, ’cause who knows what tomorrow might bring.”
She smiled a little ruefully. “That is very Russian of you, sir.”
Gabriel grinned. “I take that as a compliment.”
Anna’s smile broadened. “It was meant as one.”
“Then thank you, gracious lady.” Gabriel gave her a florid bow, and Anna laughed.
“I should take this over to the squad.” She nodded toward the Venatores who were training with Michael.
“Oh, while I think on it, I’m expecting two lads sometime in the next few days. If you could let the others who live here know, that’d be grand.” Gabriel smiled.
“Of course. Who are they?”
“Two brothers. Declan and Liam Jones. They’ve been staying at my house in Deep Bay, on the coast, and they were planning to drive over here sometime this week.”
“Are they Venatores?” She cocked her head at him in curiosity.
“No. They’re hunters, though,” Gabriel said. “I’m of the mind that you can’t have too many about the place. Variety of skillset and all of that.”
Anna accepted that easily enough. “A wise statement, sir. I’ll let the others know.”
“Thanks, doushenka.” Gabriel winked at her as the Russian endearment left his lips.
She laughed. “You! You are a scoundrel, Gabriel. But a lovable one.”
“So long as I’m lovable,” Gabriel laughed. “Go on with you then.”
She went, taking lemonade to the squad and Michael, and as the Venatores paused to drink, Michael walked over to join Gabriel by the support post.
“They are good, are they not?” Michael said, and there was more than a twinge of pride in his voice.
“Aye, very good. Though I ain’t surprised Angelique makes you blush like a rose every time she opens her mouth.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Is there a prize to be awarded to the one of my people who makes me blush the most?”
Gabriel laughed. “Not to my knowledge, but maybe there should be.” He set aside his now-empty lemonade glass and pulled Michael into the curve of his arm. “I love you very much, Mishka. And I want you to know, that while we were sparring like that, I wanted to tackle you to the grass and have my wicked, sexy way with you.”
Michael blushed right on cue. “Gabriel,” he hissed, “not in public!” A moment later, he added in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “The thought occurred to me also.”
Gabriel kissed his lover’s temple. He was about to say something, when the rest of the Brotherhood of Archangels sauntered around the side of the building and into the yard.
“Did you call them?” Gabriel asked.
Michael shook his head, his embarrassment forgotten. “No. I take it you did not, either?”
“No.”
Raziel strode up to Gabriel and Michael. Gabriel saw immediately that while Raziel presented himself with an air of calm joviality, his bright blue eyes were worried. “Hey, Raz,” Gabriel said.
“Gabe, Mike.” Raziel nodded. “Listen, if you two aren’t busy right now, I could really use your help in Georgia.”
“What part of Atlanta?”
Gabriel asked.
“Atlanta?” Raziel blinked, confused. Then he laughed. “Oh! No, not the state here in the US, the country of Georgia. Not far from the capital, Tbilisi.”
“Oh!” Gabriel laughed. “Too many places with the same name,” he said. “What’s going on over there?”
“Oh, you know, the usual intrigue and drama that we’re all familiar with,” Raziel shrugged. “I really think you two better come with us.”
“He dragged the rest of us here to get you, so yeah, you better,” Uriel put in.
“I did not drag you. You sulked until I said you could come.” Raziel rolled his eyes. “You’d think that a call from Lyudmila would make him less tetchy, but it seems to be the opposite.”
“Shut up, I like her.” Uriel crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.
“Lyudmila?” Gabriel and Michael shared a long look. “How is she?” Gabriel asked, turning back to Raziel.
“Bit cold, it’s winter over there, and the forests are pretty dense.” Raziel shrugged again. He was, Gabriel thought, making less and less sense. Which only made this impromptu visit with the seemingly idle plea for them to join the rest of the Brotherhood all the more alarming.
“Well, I will get a coat and be right with you,” Michael said. “You should also get a coat, Gabriel.”
Gabriel sighed. “Yes, dear.”
“Isn’t it sweet how they boss each other around?” Uriel grinned.
“Uriel, hush.” Michael fixed Uriel with a glare. Uriel rolled his eyes but fell silent. “We will be just a moment, Raziel.”
“Okeydokey,” Raziel said cheerfully.
Gabriel followed Michael into the small apartment that was Michael’s residence when the two of them were not on their island paradise, Belle Coeur. Grabbing a dark-blue peacoat and tugging it on, Gabriel frowned at his lover. “This doesn’t bode well,” he said.
“Raziel’s visit?” Michael nodded as Gabriel did. “I agree. His words are innocuous enough to be sure, but there is a veiled fear in his tone. He is worried, very worried. Something untoward has occurred.”
“Which could be anything,” Gabriel said. “Our lives are never dull.”
Michael smiled faintly. “That much is certain. Come, let us go and see what it is that he had heard from Lyudmila.”
They rejoined the Brotherhood as Angelique was starting to flirt with Raphael. Raphael was laughing, and Angelique was leaning toward him, showing a great deal of cleavage. Michael immediately began to splutter.
“Angelique! Stop that!”
“You’re such a stick in the mud, Michael.” She turned to Gabriel. “I thought you having loads of sex with him would make him less uptight!”
Gabriel nodded solemnly. “It has, believe it or not. Anyway,” he rushed on, as Michael turned on him, “Raph’s bondmate might be a bit put out.”
“Oh, you’re in a relationship too? How boring,” Angelique said. “One day, one of you sexy flyboys will be single, and I’ll faint. And then you’ll have to give me the kiss of life to revive me. Or flygirls,” she added slyly, “I’m not picky.”
“Angelique!” Michael gasped.
“Why don’t we head off?” Gabriel suggested to the other Archangels.
“What a splendid idea,” Remiel said. “I’ve seen Mike’s temper tanties before. They aren’t so entertaining that I want to watch another one. Where are we going, Raz?”
“Get the coordinates from me.” Raziel unfurled his wings and stretched them, crouched down, and then launched himself skyward. As the rest of the Brotherhood followed suit, there was a chorus of awed noises from the Venatores that was, Gabriel thought, more than a little gratifying.
They soared high above Oregon, so high that the state appeared as a rumpled brown, green, and blue tablecloth, dotted with signs of human habitation. Despite Oregon having been a safe state during the Seventy Years War, there were still more than a few signs of attrition. With so many refugees flooding the state, the resources had been mightily taxed. It was going to be some time until Oregon recovered.
Gabriel let out a slow breath. The war had been over for nearly two years now, and humanity was recovering admirably. Yet there were pockets of civilization that were anything but civilized, and places that were struggling. He wanted to do more. The injunction placed upon all of his kind at the very end of the war that they were to assist only with basic things was still active.
“They endure far better than we do,” Michael said. His voice was calm and reassuring in Gabriel’s mind. “The war is over for us all, yet there are still so many signs of the damage that was done. And still, humanity perseveres, and refuses to give up. Oregon will return to the way it was in terms of its agriculture and city infrastructure, and the people will be even stronger than before.”
“Thank you for reminding me, Mishka. Sometimes, I think I lose sight of that.” Gabriel smiled at his lover, and Michael smiled back, brushing his wingtip over Gabriel’s, sending a delightful shiver up Gabriel’s spine.
Raziel broadcast the coordinates of where they were to go then, and as one, the ten Archangels winked out and teleported to Georgia.
Lyudmila scrambled to her feet as soon as they materialized, and Gabriel saw that both she and Piotr were exhausted and worried. A growing foreboding filled him, as he glanced around them, at the unremarkable landscape of the creek bed, the wash of debris to one side of it, and the forest all around.
“I brought them as quickly as I could,” Raziel was saying, and he was embracing Lyudmila and then Piotr in the traditional Russian manner. “You both look wrecked. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold?”
“Thirsty, da.” Lyudmila wrapped her arms around herself.
Raziel frowned slightly and pulled in a thermos from Michael’s home with his power, which he handed to Piotr. Then he pulled in two thick, wool cloaks. He draped one over Lyudmila’s shoulders and the other over Piotr’s. “Let’s not have you both getting a chill on top of everything else,” he said, and his voice was kind. “Now, what happened?”
Lyudmila and Piotr took turns sipping from the thermos, and Gabriel smelled sweet, milky tea. They also took turns telling the story of their nighttime adventure, and Gabriel found himself raising his eyebrows at nearly every second word they said.
“The dryads caused the earth to open and swallow these men?” Samael sounded profoundly skeptical. Gabriel couldn’t blame him.
“Da, da.” Piotr nodded. Then he threw up his hands. “Bah, Archangels! Come, follow me and I will take you to the spot.”
“Just a moment, Piotr.” Michael stepped forward. “Repeat for me again, please, the words the dryad queen spoke to you.”
Lyudmila answered. “She said, ‘You must call your friends, the Archangels. They are needed. The sacred has become the profane. They must stop it. They must find it and return it to its place of rest. They must use the talents of the Venatores. They must seek out the help of those who have helped them before, the nine of you with powers. They must also seek out those who are their equal and opposite and who wield the glass knives, who are led by the one with wings of tar. They must return the sacred to its home or all will be lost.’
“Then she told us this thing was the Holy Grail,” Lyudmila said. “I am sorry there is nothing more to tell you.”
Michael frowned. “Hm. This is indeed troubling. However, if Piotr takes us to the spot, then perhaps Raphael will remain with you and lend you his cell phone so that you may speak with your people to ensure their well-being?”
“Of course,” Raphael said.
Lyudmila’s expression became one of intense relief. “Thank you, Most Holy.” She bobbed a curtsey to Michael. “I am worried for them,” she added in a soft voice.
Raphael dug out his cell phone from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. Lyudmila smiled and murmured her thanks as she took it from him before making calls. Piotr looked at her for a long moment and then sighed, shook his head, and stepped forward.
“
This way, Archangels.”
“I will stay with Raph and Her Majesty,” Haniel said then.
“As you say,” Michael agreed. “Let us see for ourselves what we can find.”
Piotr started up the wash, scrambling over loose stones and dirt, and the Archangels followed him. At the top of the wash, Gabriel looked back. Lyudmila was sitting on a blanket beside Haniel, and Raphael was peering down the length of the creek. They appeared to be setting up a watch already, and Gabriel approved. He turned his attention back to the rough terrain and marched after the agile young man who was the consort of the Queen of the Eastern Bloc Weres.
Piotr led them deep into the forest, and soon Gabriel was puffing. He wasn’t the only one, he noticed, and he smirked to himself as Uriel tugged off his coat and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Is it much farther?” Raziel asked.
“Nyet. Just over this hill,” Piotr replied.
They climbed over the hill and down into a brush-filled valley, where the trees were so tall they seemed to touch the sky. Gabriel, however, was not looking upward—he was looking at the trunk of an ancient oak tree, where a brass wind-up key was protruding.
“What the hell?”
Everyone turned to see what had made him exclaim in surprise, and silence fell on the group as everyone stared at the tree with its key.
“Well,” Raziel said finally, “nothing to do but turn.” He strode over to the tree, took hold of the key, and turned it.
The key made a loud click-click-clack noise as Raziel, grunting with the effort, turned it and soon he had turned the key as far as it would go. Releasing his hold, the Archangel stepped back, and the key began to slowly wind backward.
Music poured forth. Piotr’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “This is not the same music,” he said.
The music that came from the tree and seemed to come from the very heart of the forest and earth was a slow, melancholy song, full of haunting notes and wistful melodies. Gabriel was awed as he listened, trying to remember having heard such a song at any point in his life.
“I have never heard anything like this,” Remiel said.
“Nor I,” Samael agreed. “We should have asked Israfel to join us.”
The Wind-up Forest Page 3