Adramelek whistled. “You realize that you two gambled a fuck of a lot on the safety of an old bowl, plate, and cup?”
“I know.” Lucifer sighed. “It’s done, however. We cannot undo it.”
“All right.” Adramelek stood up. “I’ll go and get the Guild together and head upstairs to Earth and hunt out some Archangels.”
“Oh, one thing,” Lucifer said. “The Archangels will know soon—if they don’t already—that the Grail never made it to Saint Catherine’s Monastery. I do not know where Joseph arranged to have it taken when he died, but a copy was made and put in the monastery to deter anyone who might want to steal it. It’s a good copy to be sure, but it obviously hasn’t fooled whoever stole it. So, whoever stole it has some power of their own, enough to recognize the copy for what it is, and find the real thing.”
Adramelek began to swear. “Should I know anything else? What does the Grail look like?”
“Unremarkable,” Lucifer said. “If I recall correctly, the plate and bowl were made of wood; the cup was made of bone.”
“Awesome.” Adramelek ran his hands through his hair. “On the record, old friend? I hate this job.”
Lucifer smiled faintly. “Understood.”
“But I’ll do it, because you asked me to and because you explained it to me. Not because of a fucking prophecy.” Adramelek locked eyes with Lucifer. “I want that understood, too.”
Lucifer rose from his chair and rested his hands on Adramelek’s shoulders. “I know. I appreciate it, old friend. There really is no one else that I trust to do this. Working with Archangels has its own perils, after all. I would hate to lose you to them, but the Grail needs to stay on Earth, in neutral territory.”
Adramelek nodded. “Okay. Well, I’ll go and rouse the troops. Wish me luck.”
Lucifer pulled Adramelek into a tight hug and kissed each of his cheeks. “You don’t need luck,” he murmured. “You have my faith and my love.”
Adramelek hugged Lucifer back. “Let’s hope that’s enough.”
Lucifer smiled and stepped back. “It will be, old friend. It always has been, after all.”
Adramelek chuckled. “Optimist,” he teased. Then he nodded. “Right, I’ll be off. I’ll keep in touch.”
“Thank you, Adramelek,” Lucifer said. “I appreciate it.”
Adramelek bowed and left the Castle of Black Ice without another word. His thoughts were awhirl as he returned to his home and sent a few of his demon soldiers out to bring Ondrass, Markus, Lix Tetrax, and Melcherisa to him.
“The fucking Holy Grail,” Adramelek said, shaking his head as he paced his living room. “What a fucking mess.”
Sprite walked in, tail held high, and sat down on the carpet, watching Adramelek. Adramelek regarded his cat with a raised eyebrow. “Nothing to say about this, then, Sprite?”
The cat yawned. “No. I don’t know what a Grail is. I don’t care.”
“You might, if it leaves Earth,” Adramelek said. He sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. “I don’t like this century.”
Sprite flicked his tail, the only sign of his curiosity.
“Too many Archangels,” Adramelek clarified.
The cat growled at the word, and Adramelek laughed. “I feel the same, fuzz-butt, believe me.”
Sprite stood up and padded over to him, climbing into his lap and settling down. “What do you need me to do?”
Adramelek gently scratched his cat behind the ears. “Wards up, while I’m gone. The usual precautions.”
Kneading Adramelek’s thigh, the cat purred loudly. “Okay, boss.”
“Thank you.”
“Bring back tuna,” Sprite said.
Adramelek chuckled. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Good. Thank you, Adry.” Sprite yawned again and fell asleep.
Chapter Eight
GABRIEL CLOSED the door behind him as he entered the small apartment that was Michael’s home in the Venatores building. Michael was seated at the kitchen table, rifling through stacks of paper. He appeared tired, Gabriel thought, and anxious. Gabriel crossed the room quickly and went to his lover. He stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, kissing the back of his neck.
“Hello,” Michael said. There was a smile in his voice, and Gabriel smiled as well.
“Hi. So, I have the report on your people for you.”
Michael turned in Gabriel’s embrace, an eyebrow raised in silent question.
“We watched ’em all,” Gabriel began, moving to sit in the chair opposite Michael’s, “and we put ’em through several different drills. Consistently, Angelique’s squad outperformed the rest. We put her people through some drills with Declan and Liam—they’re here now, in case you were wondering—and they worked very well together.”
Michael nodded. “So Angelique’s squad is the one you recommend?”
“Yup. What am I recommending ’em for, by the way? You didn’t say.”
Michael rubbed his face with both hands. “I am weary,” he said, almost to himself.
“You should get some rest,” Gabriel said, reaching over to take one of Michael’s hands in his own.
“I will rest later.” Michael gave Gabriel a wan smile. “The mission I am to send them on is delicate. You said that Declan is a shifter?”
“Aye, his shape’s a Yorkshire terrier.” Gabriel grinned. “He’s a bit touchy about that.”
“Why? They are fine dogs.”
“Because he thinks it’s a bit emasculating.” Gabriel chuckled. “He’s a funny boy, sometimes.”
“I see.” Michael shook his head. “And Liam, he is a Necromancer?”
Gabriel nodded. “He finds it hard. It would be, I guess, seeing and talking to the dead on a daily basis.”
“At least he has the gift that I require.” Michael let go of Gabriel’s hand and picked up a sheaf of paper. “The mission is simple,” he said. “We are to take them to the forest of Brocéliande in Brittany, France. The grave of the magician known as Merlin is said to be there, although I have not seen it for myself. In any case, the dryads there are thousands of years old, like their trees, and Breton folklore is replete with Arthurian tales. There may be information about the Grail that we need. I would, if I were a betting soul, bet on it.”
Gabriel whistled. “Well now. Do any of that squad speak French?”
“Lily does,” Michael said.
“All right. Well, how about Shateiel and Camael move ’em? And you and I can go home for a bit and you can get some rest while I compile reports.”
Michael seemed about to protest. Then he smiled. “All right. I trust you to alert me if there is anything grave.”
“Of course. Hey, have we heard from Tzad yet?”
“No.” Michael frowned. “And that concerns me. We should call him before we depart for Belle Coeur.”
“Aye. Though let’s get the kids gone, first, yeah? I’d rather not have that nosy young lady eavesdropping.”
Michael quirked an eyebrow again. “Do you mean Angelique?”
“Aye. And—” Gabriel shook his head, bemused. “—she told me that Raph’s working with Baxter on his issues. Baxter also seems to be attracted to Liam, but she ain’t convinced that’s natural and not ’cause he knows he can’t crush on you without bad things happening to him. Misplaced attraction, she called it.”
Michael sighed heavily. “Wonderful,” he said drily.
“We can deal with it later,” Gabriel said. “Let’s get the kids to France, call Tzad, then go home for a bit.”
“All right. Yes. As you say.” Michael stood up. “I will give this file to Angelique. It is the brief of the mission. Is there a hotel or something near Brocéliande where they can stay?”
“I can look it up,” Gabriel suggested. He looked around Michael’s scrupulously neat apartment. “You don’t have a computer.”
“No, I do not. They do not like me.” Michael glanced down.
Gabriel laughed. “Okay, well,
give me a moment, and I’ll borrow Angelique’s.” He concentrated and pulled her laptop to him with his power. As Michael watched, his face wreathed in skepticism, Gabriel began to tap at the keyboard, accessing the Internet and beginning a search for a hotel or motel in Brittany that wasn’t too far from Brocéliande.
“What have you found?” Michael asked.
Gabriel turned the laptop so Michael could see the screen. “There’s a rather nice-looking little hotel right in the middle of the forest,” he said. “It’s got enough vacancies, if Angelique doesn’t mind bunking with Riley and Baxter. Lily and Danny in one room, Declan and Liam in another, those three in a third, it’d work well.”
Michael read the print on the screen and nodded slowly. “All right. Book the rooms, would you please? Put them under Angelique’s name, and here is the credit card to charge the account.” He handed Gabriel a Visa card, and Gabriel took it.
“Mr. Mike Lee?”
Michael blushed a little. “It is the name I use on my bank accounts.”
“I see. Okay, well, give me a few minutes, and I’ll print out the details and you can give ’em to Angelique along with the mission brief.”
“As you say.”
As Michael waited, Gabriel typed in the necessary information. A few minutes was all it took for the booking to be confirmed and paid for, and Gabriel, reaching out with his power, found a printer in Angelique’s apartment. He used it to print out the hotel information, pulling the printouts to him with his power and handing them to Michael.
“All done,” Gabriel said with a grin.
Michael did not seem entirely convinced. “Are you certain?”
“Of course!” Gabriel tapped the printouts. “It’s all on there. Angelique and the others will know what to do. All that’s left is to get ’em to Brocéliande.”
“As you say,” Michael said again. “Come along. Let us give them their orders.”
“All right.” Gabriel switched off the laptop and returned it to Angelique’s apartment with his power. Then he stood, stretched, and took Michael’s hand in his. “Let’s go.”
They walked outside hand in hand. Gabriel smirked as everyone turned to look at them, Angelique immediately smacking Baxter on the shoulder.
“Ow!” he complained. “What was that for?”
“You know damn well,” Angelique said. “I’m getting in a preemptive slap.”
He scowled at her, but Michael had stepped forward and was speaking. “Here is your mission brief,” he said to Angelique, shooting her a reproving glance. “You will be staying in the hotel that is listed there. You have ten minutes to pack your equipment. Pack for a forest and river location, and then Shateiel and Camael will take you to your hotel.”
Angelique took the sheaf of papers and nodded. “Yes, sir. Where are we going?”
“France,” Michael said. “The Brocéliande forest in Brittany.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Angelique said cheerfully. She turned to her squad. “All right, people, get your gear and get back here in ten. Go, go, go!”
“And Declan and Liam as well,” Michael said, nodding to the two young men.
Angelique quirked an eyebrow. “I assume the reason for that is in the brief?”
Michael nodded.
Angelique jogged toward the house. Gabriel watched her go, shaking his head in amusement.
“What is funny, da bao?” Michael asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” Gabriel looped an arm around Michael’s neck. “Don’t mind me. I’m just amused by youth, is all.”
“I see.” Michael leaned into Gabriel, and Gabriel pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
“If I may, sirs,” Shateiel began, “but will you require me to stay in Brocéliande? My wife is meeting with Lilith the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah,” Gabriel said. “No, drop the kids off and return to base. So to speak. Camael,”—Gabriel turned to the other angel, who had remained silent—“how’s your hunting through the forests of the world going?”
Camael spread his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Not well, sir. There are many forests, and it seems almost as if the dryads who live within them are hiding their trees with keys from us.”
“Huh.” Gabriel mulled that over. “You make it obvious you’re angels?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” Gabriel said. “Keep going, and hopefully you’ll hit pay dirt. Report if you find something or when you’ve finished, whatever comes first.”
“Yes, sir.” Camael saluted.
Angelique emerged from the house, a carryall slung over her shoulder. The rest of her squad wasn’t far behind, and Declan and Liam brought up the rear. As the little group gathered on the lawns, Gabriel and Michael stepped back.
“Safe flight,” Gabriel said, saluting the angels and the shifters. “And good hunting to you.”
“Sir.” They returned his salute, and Michael saluted as well. As they watched, Shateiel and Camael unfurled their wings, encircling the little group in feathers. They seemed to shimmer blue and silver for a moment, and then they were gone.
“I hope they have success,” Michael said with a sigh.
“Me, too.” Gabriel tugged Michael to the nearest bench and sat down. “So, shall we call Tzad?”
Michael nodded.
Gabriel reached out with his mind, seeking Tzadkiel. It wasn’t hard; Tzadkiel was where Gabriel had thought he would be—at the Saint Catherine’s Monastery building on Mount Sinai in the Egyptian desert. With him was Brieus, and waiting outside, with a light shawl covering her head, was Sophiel.
“Tzad,” Gabriel began, “grab Bri and Soph and come to Mike’s place in Oregon. I’m sending you the coordinates. We need to talk.”
There was a moment’s silence and then the calm reply. “Right. We’ll be there within the hour, Gabe. Dare I hope we have any information to add to what I’ve learned here?”
“A little. Have you got something?”
“Oh yeah.” Tzadkiel’s mental voice was heavy with a mixture of annoyance and sarcasm. “And it’s fucked up.”
“Shit. Okay, hurry over.”
“Will do.” The sense of Tzadkiel’s voice was gone.
Gabriel leaned back against the wall that stood behind the bench. It was a low wall, covered with climbing plants—ivy, wisteria, and some yellow flowering plant that Gabriel couldn’t identify. It smelled good, though, and Gabriel, despite the trepidation he felt from his brief conversation with Tzadkiel, felt his muscles relax.
“What did Tzadkiel say?” Michael asked.
“He’s got info, but we ain’t going to like it,” Gabriel said. “And he’ll be here anytime.”
“I see. Where was he?”
“Egypt.” Gabriel stretched out his legs. “He was at Saint Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. Brieus and Sophiel were with him.”
“Inevitably,” Michael said with a gentle smile.
“They’re very close,” Gabriel said. He wriggled closer to Michael, wrapping both his arms around him. “This is nice. Just sitting here in the garden, no one else around.”
“It is.” Michael rested his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I wish we had more time for such interludes.”
“No rest for the holy,” Tzadkiel’s voice interrupted them.
“’Lo, Tzad,” Gabriel said.
“Hey. So, we’ve got information.” Tzadkiel sat down on the grass, Brieus and Sophiel following suit.
“What news?” Michael asked, sitting up straight.
Tzadkiel sighed. “Fucking ridiculous. Okay, so we went to the monastery. Beautiful place, by the by. The abbot there told Brieus and me a truly remarkable story.”
“I waited outside,” Sophiel said. “The inner courts of the monastery are prohibited to women. Even angels.”
“I see.” Michael pursed his lips. “What was this story he told you, Tzadkiel?”
Brieus shook his head. “Boss, I still have trouble believing everything we were told.”
“He wouldn’t lie,” Tzadkiel said. “Anyway, even if he was, I was looking at his surface thoughts while he spoke with us. He was telling us the truth.”
“Which is?” Gabriel asked. He began to tap his foot, impatience niggling at him.
“The Holy Grail has never been in Saint Catherine’s.” Tzadkiel held up a hand as Michael and Gabriel began to protest. “What they’ve had there is a copy. A very damn good copy, because when the abbot showed us the place they’d kept it, the energy signature of it read almost like the real thing. It was just a little off.”
“What do you mean?” Michael demanded.
“Okay, it seems that when Joseph of Arimathea died, he entrusted the Grail to his sons. His family had a copy made, and one son took the original while another took the copy. The copy was carried with a suitable amount of pomp and ceremony and protections to Saint Catherine’s, and the abbot at the time was told the truth about it and promised to only tell his successor or an Archangel. For centuries, the fake Grail sat in the monastery, undisturbed, until a few weeks ago when a woman came to the gate.
“The abbot said that women were not permitted to enter the inner part of the monastery, but the woman already knew that. She said her son would go in, because they were descended from Joseph, and part of their family observance was to ensure that the copy of the Grail was safe and secure. The abbot accepted this, and took the young man into the monastery and showed him the fake Grail. Then, satisfied, the young man and his mother left.
“Then two days before Lyudmila’s encounter with the dryads, the monastery was robbed. Some holy books were stolen, including an original illumination of the Lindisfarne Gospels and Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain. A few relics were taken, and so was the fake Grail. The abbot reported the theft to the local police, the Greek Orthodox Church and to the Papal See, but so far, there’s been no leads on who stole it or why.”
“Could you detect anything?” Michael asked.
Tzadkiel shook his head. “Whoever did this was very subtle,” he said. “And very powerful. They didn’t leave a trace at all. It was almost as if the things that were stolen suddenly sprouted legs and walked out on their own.”
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