Angelus

by Sabrina Benulis

  Angela silently followed. They both paused before a clearing where a woman with thick red hair and heavy shawls sat on the frozen ground. She stared up at the stars, her arm wrapped around a little girl gathered to her chest. Nina flapped her wings, settling on the ground behind them. The little girl turned, saw Nina, and turned around again to tug on her mother’s sleeve.

  The woman stood, calling to a tall novice sitting close by. Their conversation was muffled, but the woman continued pointing at her daughter, making frustrated gestures with her arms. The little girl looked at the novice with a pitiful, tearstained face.

  Finally, he nodded and pointed at the trees.

  As the woman brought her daughter into the undergrowth, Angela recognized her. She’d been present when Angela, Sophia, and the Kirin had burst through the mirror. Except then she’d been on her knees, trying to scream as hands clapped over her mouth. She was much taller up close, and had an earthy beauty about her, with her clanking necklaces piled on top of one another, peeking above her heavy scarves. Her daughter’s rosy cheeks were the only sign that either felt the cold.

  This must be the woman Nina said could help us. She looks like a fortune-teller . . . and she’s a blood head like me. How did she manage to evade the Vatican police for so many years?

  Angela remembered that occult practitioners and fortune-tellers were outlawed in Luz.

  She stood as the woman and her daughter came closer. The woman caught sight of Angela and gasped. Her hand instinctively grabbed for her daughter and dragged her backward, away from Angela. Her heavy-lidded eyes were now wide as dinner plates.

  A flutter of wingbeats and a heavy weight on Angela’s shoulder signaled Nina’s return to her perch.

  Angela, Nina said, this is Gloriana Cassel and her daughter, Tress. I used to work for Gloriana part-time at her curiosity shop in Luz. She used to help me understand my dreams and psychic abilities . . . as much as she could, anyway. She owned the mirror that the priests used to bring you into Luz.

  “Hello,” Angela whispered awkwardly.

  Gloriana said nothing at first. She scanned Angela from top to bottom with her sultry eyes, focusing on Angela’s green left eye in particular. Her face had paled considerably. “So—you’re safe,” she said at last.

  Angela nodded. “We—that is, Nina and I—have come for your help. I need to enter Luz, but I can’t be seen for reasons I’m assuming you understand.”

  Gloriana stared at Angela as though a ghost stood in front of her.

  Angela cleared her throat nervously and continued. “Nina said that you know a way around the main paths leading into Luz.”

  “Why do you wish to even enter the city?” Gloriana said softly.

  Angela paused. The answer seemed so obvious to her. “Our odds of survival here are worse.”

  “Do you think so?”

  Gloriana allowed her words to linger ominously. She still examined Angela as if she could see through to her bones. At last Tress mumbled something and buried herself in her mother’s skirt, her little arms and hands trembling. She was clearly afraid of Angela.

  What about Angela was so different now? In her eyes, she looked the same as when she attended Westwood Academy in Luz. Yet everyone paused now and treated her with deference. Was it the way she walked or stood? Was it something in her voice? She couldn’t see it or understand it, and that frightened her even more. Had Hell changed her that much?

  Angela took a step closer, and Gloriana and her daughter just as quickly shuffled back. “Listen, are you going to help us or not?” Angela demanded. “I’ve made up my mind, so if you won’t help—”

  “Do you know the Netherworld?” Gloriana said. She must have noticed how her fear was confusing Angela. With difficulty, she took a step closer again, forcing Tress to follow her.

  Yes, Angela remembered the terrible human Netherworld. There, with the angel Mikel’s help, she’d encountered her dead parents for the last time. The angel Azrael had then attacked her before she’d freed the souls that had been imprisoned by him, which had nearly kept them from their prophesied role of fighting by Angela’s side in the future. The memory of him was enough to set her teeth chattering again.

  I wonder if that’s why Lucifel sent angels to steal the souls left in Luz. That could even be the reason she’s hoarding them away in Heaven. To keep them away from me!

  Angela also found it hard to understand why Mikel—Lucifel’s rebellious angelic daughter—had been so helpful at the time and then had suddenly disappeared from Angela’s side when she was needed most.

  Maybe she hadn’t been much of a friend after all.

  Yet it was hard to forget the pain in Mikel’s face when she spoke of her dead angel father Raziel, and that was enough to temper at least some of the suspicion and disgust starting to boil within Angela. She hadn’t seen evil behind Mikel’s strange eyes. But she’d seen despair, and that could be terrible enough. Angela knew all too well what could happen to a soul that had lost hope. The more she considered past events, the more Mikel’s face haunted her. In the end, Angela had never discovered who told the demons that she was in Luz, beginning an avalanche of misery for all concerned. And she’d never figured out how Python knew enough to lure her into Hell. Perhaps Mikel had been the informant. Perhaps she loved Lucifel and clung to her for a reason Angela might never understand.

  It certainly makes sense. Look at how the Vermilion Order is suddenly hunting me down. Lucifel’s shadow has entered Luz. Perhaps Mikel is only her herald.

  “I can see by your face that you have experience with the Realm where the dead walked,” Gloriana said, interrupting Angela’s thoughts.

  Angela looked back at her again. “Yes, I do. But the Netherworld has been emptied since I left it. If it even exists anymore.”

  “It doesn’t,” Gloriana said. “But listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you. Whereas Azrael, the angel of death, lorded over the Netherworld, his twin, Kheshmar, chose to reside in the outer darkness beneath Luz. She is the one who can help you reach Lucifel. Perhaps she can also help you with Raziel’s Book. She used to be one of Raziel’s guardian Thrones.”

  “Do the priests know she exists?” Angela said, realizing that she was now down to whispers. “They knew about the Fae Tileaf and used her cruelly.”

  “Yes and no,” Gloriana said. “Those who were foolish enough to search for Kheshmar never returned to Luz’s upper levels. The priests abandoned all thought of communicating with her after stern warnings from the angelic Realms.”

  “Then how do you know about her?”

  Gloriana seemed taken aback for a moment. That was when Angela saw it—a glint of yellow light behind Gloriana’s eyes. It was the same as the eerie light behind Kim’s. Gloriana was not only a blood head, she was half-Jinn. No wonder she could communicate with creatures from the Realms so easily!

  Now Angela was the speechless one.

  “Have you figured out my secret?” Gloriana said gently. “It’s true. My father was a human, and my mother was . . .”

  Rustling erupted in the naked canopy overhead. Two eyes gleamed at Angela from the darkness.

  Juno, Troy’s niece, had arrived.

  Angela returned to regarding Gloriana carefully. Gloriana’s mother, then, was a Jinn like Troy and Juno. What had happened to her? Why had Gloriana survived and most other half-Jinn did not? Kim had been certain he was the only half-Jinn human in the world, and the demons had also confidently thought so, using his unique half-bred hands to free Lucifel from her cage in Hell. Angela could only imagine how this news that he wasn’t alone in the world would change everything for him. The more Angela thought about him, the more her soul felt like caving in on itself.

  She had been in such a panic to get Sophia to safety, she’d forgotten that he remained in Hell, waiting for her. What would he say to her when they saw each other again? Angela wanted him to be happy, first and foremost. Kim hadn’t deserved the cruel life handed to him. He’d allowed his hea
rt to turn entirely to Angela’s welfare, even when it caused him great suffering. And now it would look like she’d abandoned him.

  If only he were here right now. Somehow, everything wouldn’t be so hard if I knew he was safe.

  She could only hope that Troy wouldn’t find him and follow through on her stalled assassination mission.

  Angela?

  Angela shook her head. Nina’s voice had interrupted her thoughts and now she felt the tears running down her face.

  Angela, why are you crying? Nina pressed, her voice tightened by concern.

  Everything inside of Angela broke for a moment, and then it put itself together again. She shook her head, wiped away her tears, and looked at Gloriana sadly. It was better to ignore Nina’s anxiety, before the guards keeping Gloriana and her daughter captive grew suspicious. It was obvious they’d pretended Tress needed to relieve herself in the bushes. “Tell me, then, how I can find Kheshmar and enter the lower levels of Luz,” Angela said. “Before it’s too late.”

  Gloriana nodded. “Leave Memorial Cemetery by using the main gates. They’ll be lightly guarded. Most of the priests believe you’ll try to escape on that beast from Hell by entering Luz’s skies. Be careful, however, that you stay out of sight of any angels. There are eyes everywhere now. Once out of the gates, go left, and down a long tunnel that empties into the uppermost of Luz’s lower levels. You’ll find a large storm grate there. Lift the hatch and enter the water. It will take you down to the canals.” Gloriana looked Angela up and down again. “Of course, you’ll need better clothes than what you’re wearing now, but either way, you’re bound to get soaked at first.”

  Nina croaked gently. Angela, there’s no way I can follow you into the water as I am now.

  I know, Angela said back to her in her thoughts. Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.

  She remembered Juno who sat still and silent in the trees, suddenly invisible. Angela took a deep breath.

  “Eventually, you’ll come to two statues,” Gloriana continued. “Pass through them. After that . . .”

  “Yes?” Angela said eagerly.

  “Well, nobody knows,” Gloriana ended. “As I mentioned, no one has ever returned from that point. But you’re the Archon. Perhaps you will succeed where all others have failed. We can only pray. This leads me to a question I hope you’ll answer for me. Why does the Book of Raziel remain unopened?”

  Angela lowered her head. “It’s complicated, but . . . it can’t be opened right now.”

  Gloriana shook her head and sighed.

  Nina flapped her wings, acting as if she wanted to say something more. Wisely, she ultimately stayed silent. She settled with them into the pressing quiet.

  “Well,” Angela whispered, “thank you for your help.”

  “I’m happy to help you,” Gloriana said. “I always knew the Archon would choose to be our salvation, not our Ruin. Even if my entire life was lived solely for this moment . . .” She caressed her daughter, who peeked a little more bravely at Angela from behind her mother’s skirt. “For my daughter’s future, at the very least, it’s worth every danger.”

  Shouts echoed in their direction. The novice guarding Gloriana and her daughter must have become suspicious by now.

  “Good luck to you,” Gloriana said. “We’ll pray for your success, Angela Mathers.”

  She knows my name, Angela thought to herself. Then she thought of entering the freezing cold water beneath Luz, and the canals, and meeting Kheshmar and she understood her earlier shivers for what they were.

  As if sensing Angela’s growing distress, Tress burst suddenly from her mother’s side and ran up to Angela. She held out a long snow-white feather that looked as delicate as paper-thin porcelain. Angela recognized its size and shape.

  Immediately, she thought of Israfel.

  “The angels will watch over you,” Tress whispered to her. Her child’s eyes seemed to absorb all the darkness of the surrounding trees. “Like they watch over me.”

  I suppose she’s talking about “good” angels. I have yet to meet one, Nina said dryly.

  Angela took the feather, stroking it with a finger. “Where did you get this?” she said to Tress.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tress said, smiling. “You need it more than me, anyway. You can give it back someday—when it won’t help anymore.”

  “Now hurry, Archon,” Gloriana said shortly. And then she grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and steered her back into the trees and in the direction of the clearing until they were no more than shadows.

  Fatigue had plucked at Angela little by little since they’d arrived in Luz. Now it began to wash over her. Her thoughts wandered and melted together into a murky pool. Her steps became mechanical as she and Nina returned to Sophia. After a while, the world around her vanished and she seemed to walk in a great darkness littered with stars. Fear stifled her. Any moment now, she would feel herself being torn apart again.

  Who am I? I’m Angela Marie Mathers, right? My parents were Erianna and Marcus, and I had a brother named Brendan. They died in a fire accidentally caused by me. That fire left me with scars. My entire past left me with scars.

  Her vision swam. It was as if she could see her parents and brother walking ahead of her like ghosts instead of Nina.

  No . . . I’m the Archon. The angel Raziel died long ago, and then he chose my soul to be the Archon’s and he resided within my body, next to my own spirit, to protect me and guide me. Only I can open his Book and choose good or evil for the universe. Only I can stop Lucifel from silencing the universe . . .

  Angela paused. The icy air she breathed sliced like a knife through her lungs. She hugged herself, gripping her shivering arms. A deep silence surrounded her. It was so much like the silence from her terrible visions.

  That’s who I am . . . so why do I feel like neither of those facts are the truth?

  She looked up into the misty blackness. Her left eye burned and suddenly her vision seemed to pierce through the ether. Distance disappeared and she found herself flying in her mind toward something immense. A great face materialized. It was the Father’s, and it was neither male nor female in human terms, and terribly beautiful. His great eyes had glassed over lifelessly and he lay in a darkness somehow deeper than the one she stood within. Blue blood seeped in a pool from his broken body.

  A silvery winged figure knelt beside him.

  The angel turned to look at Angela, as if recognizing that he was being watched. It was Israfel. The Father’s blue blood stained his mouth. His own eyes cried red tears.

  Feathers surrounded him in a thick pile, and as he shifted his wings, even more spiraled to the floor. His face had paled and thinned to something ghostly.

  He opened his mouth to cry out to her.

  Angela . . .

  Was that his voice? It sounded so different somehow, and with every passing second it grew louder.

  Angela! WATCH OUT!

  What? Angela looked up again. The distance grew between her and Israfel and the Father, and they streaked backward into the ether as fast as a lightning bolt.

  Something hard slammed into her, tossing her sideways to the earth.

  Angela shrieked and clutched at her head. Pain ricocheted through her skull. Bursts of light exploded in front of her eyes and faded. She pushed up on her arms, her palms scraping into the frozen soil. Warm blood trickled to her wrists. A hand grabbed her by the back of her shawl and flipped her around.

  Angela focused hard on the face above her. It was male and astonishingly perfect, with large brown eyes and brown hair. Great chestnut-colored wings beat the air around them. It took a moment for her to register that an angel had knocked her to the ground and was ready to choke her if he felt like it.

  “Stop it—” she gasped beneath his crushing fingers. “Stop—”

  “Every citizen of Luz knows this is a restricted area,” the angel said softly. He dropped her to the ground again, and his voice grew even colder. “Even to those c
alled blood heads.” He moved so quickly, Angela had barely blinked before a shining crossbow lifted in front of her and a sharp arrow jabbed at her forehead.

  Nina screeched with alarm from the trees. The angel narrowed his eyes and searched the darkness.

  “A Vapor,” he whispered. “I should have known you’d be a witch, blood head.” He kicked at Angela’s ribs.

  “Don’t kill me,” Angela whispered.

  The angel laughed, and his perfect smile was one shade away from a demon’s. “Why not?”

  Angela noticed yellow eyes burning in the darkness behind him. Courage stole over her and she stared at the angel, her left eye burning.

  His face blanched with fear and his mouth opened, but it was too late.

  Juno exploded from the trees, her wings beating as she pounced on the angel and brought him to the ground. He fought back, and Angela rolled out of their way as feathers exploded around her, and Juno’s furious snarls echoed into the night. She was on top of the angel’s chest, her sharp nails pressed to his throat, when he overturned her, pinning her beneath him. Energy snapped and fizzled around his hands.

  Angela willed the blood to trickle away from her wrists and pool in her cut palms. The Glaive formed and she swung it hard, stopping inches from the angel’s bare neck.

  “Let her go,” Angela said, still gasping for breath. She fought a sudden wave of dizziness. The weapon was draining her life force even more strongly than usual.

  The angel did nothing.

  Until Angela pressed enough to put a cut in his skin.

  He held up his hands and stepped away from Juno. Juno sprang to her feet and scampered over to Angela. If this were Troy the angel had tangled with, he’d either have died or suffered immensely by now. Clearly, Juno was a different kind of Jinn. She glared at the angel and sat by Angela’s side, sighing and licking at a cut on her arm. Her wings relaxed and she finished by licking the blood from her teeth. Her nails split through the rocks beneath her hands as she leaned forward again, sniffing the angel.

  “Thank you,” Juno said to Angela when she’d finished her inspection.