by Trisha Telep
She shared that same pale skin and dark hair, but eyes were the mirrors of the soul – or so she’d often heard in this place – and her grey eyes served as a reminder that she and Ahadiel, despite outward similarities, were worlds apart.
“Well, you shouldn’t have,” she said. “We’ve been of use to each other in the past, but I am what I am. I owe Heaven no loyalty.”
“Nor Hell?”
“Nor Hell.”
As she watched, Ahadiel tested the spell boundary with a playful poke. His nails looked human enough, if a little longer, sharper and darker in colour, but she’d seen them in action. When fully extended, what they could do to flesh and bone was terrifying in its finality.
Her spell held, if barely, with a cantankerous crackling, and Ahadiel snatched his hand back.
He smiled, brow raised. “It’s weakening.”
“I know.” Despite the threat edging his quiet taunt, she couldn’t help smiling back. A little. “But, as you’ll have noticed, you are still trapped.”
Another un-celestial snort. Ahadiel might be angry, but he wasn’t threatened by her – a point he soon made very clear. He circled the perimeter of the boundary with a single nail extended, sword-like. In his wake, he left red, sparking trails of energy.
That had to hurt, yet his only visible reaction was a slowly broadening grin. When he’d completed his circuit, he said, “I made it bleed.”
He’d also made the back service drive glow, and at 3 a.m. in a sleepy rural city, that would be noticeable to anyone – or anything – in the vicinity.
Prima glanced upwards again, all the while telling herself he wasn’t showing off for her benefit and, even if he were, she wasn’t in the least impressed.
“Look, I know critical thinking skills aren’t one of your strengths, that you’re all about the smiting, but let’s not attract any unwanted attention.”
“As if a summoning and a binding are low key.” Ahadiel was still smiling. “If you’d wanted to bask in the glory of my magnificent presence, all you had to do was ask.”
She might have laughed, if she hadn’t known that his arrogance was only partially feigned. “I’m not here to flirt with you.”
“If you insist.” He made a show of looking around him. “And where, exactly, is ‘here’?”
“Rhinelander, Wisconsin . . . and don’t you give me that look. I have a place here because it’s pretty and the winters are long.” She let out a loud sigh, and the misty puff of breath curled skywards, mixing with the blowing snow. “None of which has anything to do with why I summoned you.”
“You tricked me with a ruse of—”
“Not that much of a ruse. I really do know about Raguel.”
Immediately, she had his full attention. Perhaps a little too much of his attention, because his wings began to manifest. Warily, she watched as countless filaments of light, snapping with power, unfurled from behind him, hungry with a need to join, to expand, to take form – and to unleash their power, in the blink of an eye, on some hapless target.
Angel wings were not feathered, as humans imagined, but all those iridescent threads, looping back into each other in their grid of electric-white intensity, could be considered feather-shaped.
“And how do you know of this?”
“I was informed.”
“By whom?”
Prima arched a brow. “Who do you think?”
“Nirgal.” When she nodded, he added flatly, “This matter is none of his concern.”
A true demon and not a fallen angel, Nirgal acted as Hell’s counterpart to Raguel and his cohort of celestial enforcers. The humans had once classified him, in their quaint tomes on demonology, as Lucifer’s spy, the head honcho of Hell’s secret police. Crude and overly simplified, but accurate to a small degree. Lucifer ruled over Hell, but only through brute force and fear. Nirgal and his team of demons and allied Fallen were charged with keeping the peace among their own kind, minimizing interference in mortal affairs, and holding off angelic aggressions. With Raguel on the celestial side and Nirgal on the other, they maintained the critical balance in the politics of power between Heaven, Hell and all related interstices. Or so was the general idea; some millennia, that was easier said than done.
“There are signs of . . . trouble, which is why Nirgal sent me to find you, no doubt assuming you would do the hunting and fighting while I provide the intel, so to speak. He has good reason for believing Raguel knew about the situation and attempted to intervene, and that’s why he’s now missing.”
“And the nature of this trouble?”
Right now, she couldn’t be more relieved that a boundary, no matter how weak, remained between them. “You’re not going to like this.”
“What I do or do not like is irrelevant. Answer me.”
“We work together on this, Ahadiel, or else I keep the information to myself and you find your brother – or not – on your own. Deal?”
“Angels don’t make deals. We intercede.”
“Fine. Shall we arrange a joint intercession then?”
“Not until you answer my question.”
She had been instructed not to, in no uncertain terms. “And I can’t do that. Not until I have your word that you will cooperate with me and—”
“And, by extension, those who are my enemies.”
“But I am not your enemy,” she said, quietly. “I’m as neutral as it gets, Ahadiel. Not a demon, not an angel, fallen or otherwise. Hell doesn’t want me, Heaven doesn’t want me . . . I’m tolerated, no more, no less. If I defy Nirgal, I’ll be punished for it. I think you can understand my reluctance to take that chance.”
“Release me, and I’ll protect you.”
Tempting – very tempting – but still too risky. Sensing her spell had nearly exhausted itself, however, Prima took a step back.
“There are only seven of you Angels of Punishment,” she said, with a calmness she didn’t feel. “As the eldest and strongest, Raguel’s the one who handles the major troublemakers. Or did, anyway, and though you don’t know what’s happened to him or where he is, you know you need to find him, fast. Because something isn’t right, and lately you’ve been called down to this mundane little place far too often. Haven’t you?”
“Release me,” Ahadiel repeated.
“Without me and what I know, you won’t find him and a minor incident might become something much, much worse.”
“For the last time, release me.”
Words had power, his especially so, the force of them lashing outwards. His wings filled the boundary sphere, burning white, their edges sparking and sizzling as he strained to break free.
She was only a Peri, the child of fallen angels, and nowhere near as powerful as even the lowliest celestial, much less one of Azrael’s elite warriors. While she dared not give him the answers he wanted, not without his binding promise in return, she could still offer an olive branch of sorts and voluntarily turn him loose.
At this point, she didn’t have much to lose – and she had nothing else to give but her trust that he wouldn’t incinerate her on the spot.
Prima closed her eyes, then touched her mouth with her right hand, coloured with red ochre, and breathed into it. Pressing that same hand against her heart, she whispered: “With this breath, true of heart, thou art released.”
A sudden rush of wind whipped her hair into her face then ended with equal abruptness on a soft hiss, like a last sigh leaving the body. When Prima opened her eyes again, Ahadiel stood a hand’s span away.
“Sumerian. That’s an old one.” Each word brushed against her skin with a tangible heat. “Simple, and most impressive.”
“Thank you.” Taking a deep, steadying breath, she added, “You’re . . . standing too close.”
His smile returned, dazzling, but hardly beatific. “Don’t you trust me?”
While it didn’t seem as if he were itching to smite the ever-loving crap out of her, she couldn’t tell for certain. He’d behaved well enough th
e other times they’d teamed up, but a handful of encounters over a thousand years wasn’t much to rely upon when it came to betting odds.
“I have my failings, but rank stupidity isn’t one of them. Now back off.” After a moment, recalling whom she was ordering around, she added, “Please.”
Instead, Ahadiel moved even closer, his body brushing against hers, and cupped her face in his hand. Startled, she froze.
“You are very beautiful, very entertaining and very tempting,” he said quietly, the pad of his thumb brushing along the curve of her lower lip. “But I serve the will of Heaven. You would do well to remember that, and never trick me again.”
“Never is more than I can promise,” she managed to answer, wondering what hidden motivations or intentions might explain his unusual – and most unsettling – behaviour. “But I’ll try to keep any future trickery at responsible levels. How’s that?”
“Most generous of you.” The caress – and it was a caress; no mistaking that – persisted, with slightly more confidence. “Had another of my brothers responded to your summons, it would not have gone well for you.”
“I know.”
She could hardly concentrate on what he was saying over the tiny – and thoroughly astonished – voice in her head that kept repeating: This isn’t right. He’s never acted like this before, never touched me like this, never spoken like this . . .
“I meant what I said. If you want to see me, just ask.”
His touch both warmed and soothed, but with a static buzz of something darker at its edges. So soft and mild, hardly noticeable at first. The longer the contact, however, the more that fuzzy edge sharpened, the innocuous white noise becoming louder and harsher. Those too weak to endure it were driven mad, to the point of clawing away at their skin to be rid of it.
Touched by an angel . . . not exactly a Hallmark kind of moment.
Fortunately, she was mostly immune – a shared lineage had its advantages – but he’d rattled her enough that she’d failed to correct his assumption. She hadn’t been unwise enough to summon just any Angel of Punishment. She’d summoned the only one she trusted.
“I’m sure you’d rush right over, if you could find the time to squeeze me in between salting cities and slaughtering firstborns.” Retreating to a safer distance, scowling to hide this strange, unexpected alarm, she said, “Would you power down those wings already? Again, I’m not your enemy. I’m here to help.”
“I don’t need your help. I need answers.”
The unblinking, birdlike intensity of his gaze didn’t change, but the wing glare faded until nothing remained but that faint incandescence all celestials carried with them. Even that would fade completely if he stayed long enough in this place. While among their mortal charges, angels wore black for a reason: when one glowed with all the allure of a liquor sign in a lonely one-horse town, one needed to counteract that inconvenience as much as possible.
His boots, pants and shirt were black, as was the long woollen coat with its deep hood, which he could pull down over his face. In contrast, Prima wore jeans, winter boots in tan and black, a puffy cherry-red parka and a colourful Sherpa earflap hat over her long hair. Not terribly glamorous, but she blended in with the other 8,000-plus inhabitants of Rhinelander. With a body temperature somewhat higher than a human’s, she preferred cool climates, and the cold didn’t really bother her. Celestials weren’t affected by either heat or cold. If it weren’t for the Day-Glo issue, Ahadiel would probably be naked right now.
Avoiding that particularly uncomfortable mental image – as well as his earlier demand – she said, “It sounds like you were maybe a little worried about me.”
“I suppose you could call it that.” He moved off a short distance. “I’m guessing Nirgal knows I like you well enough not to kill you if you yank me around like some common Djinn.”
“Nirgal uses me because of what I am. My imprint is almost identical to that of a human, which makes it more difficult for demons and the Fallen to find me. Angels too, for that matter.”
Again, she glanced at the sky – because “difficult” didn’t equal “impossible” – and by the time she looked down, Ahadiel had again drawn closer.
“You keep doing that.” He frowned. “Are you in danger?”
“Probably. I’m not the bravest of the brave, but I’ve been careful. I haven’t sensed anything unusual, and there isn’t exactly a high population of our kind in this area. I mean, unless it turns out the Hodag really is a Hellbeast that’s somehow escaped my notice all these years.”
“The Hodag?” For a fraction of a second, Ahadiel’s eyes went unfocused, then he blinked and said, “The fur-covered creature seven feet long and thirty inches high, with white curved horns, long tusks and sharp claws. A cross between a Komodo dragon and a demonic pug. Multiple appearances in signs and statues. City mascot. Photographed in 1896 by Gene Shepard, local businessman.”
Prima arched a brow at the stream-of-consciousness flow of words, as Ahadiel tapped into what she cheekily called the “Spark”, a collective residue of electromagnetic brain impulses emitted by all living creatures. Within a scant second, Ahadiel had filtered through the memories and consciousness of 8,000 co-mingled Sparks in Rhinelander. Celestials heard and understood all human languages and nonhuman verbalizations. When someone prayed, the angels – and others – did indeed listen. They just didn’t always respond.
“A hoax created by Shepard. It’s a myth.”
“Don’t say that around the locals,” she warned. “They’re very fond of their beastie.”
“Your penchant for finding humour in humourless situations is not helpful, Prima.” Ahadiel’s frown deepened. “Nirgal is also counting on the fact that my concern for you will compel me to protect you, with or without an oath.”
“He’s been known to play dirty, from time to time.” She sighed. “The situation is . . . politically sensitive, and the danger is to all of us.”
With a shake of his head, Ahadiel turned around slowly, taking in their surroundings. Not that there was much to see in the back of a Walmart, or anywhere else along this stretch of Lincoln Street, which cut through the business heart of the city. The traffic was all but non-existent at this time of night, and nothing moved – unless one counted the sheets of steadily falling snow, eddying back and forth in the wind.
“If the danger is this severe, why summon me here?”
“The back lot seemed safe. I didn’t want to be near a residential area in case something went wrong. I like the people here, and—”
“What I meant was, why not a more populated area? It sounds as if I might need to draw upon a reserve.”
The Spark was more than an amorphous, ephemeral database, like a super God-powered internet. The life energy emitted by all living beings blanketed the planet, and, in a pinch, angels could draw upon that force to augment their powers. Beings of light, unlike beings of shadow, also operated more efficiently in full daylight. Ahadiel was hardly handicapped by being yanked into a small city in the dead of night, but she knew better than him what kind of danger could be coming their way.
She didn’t like holding back the truth, and considering his actions towards her tonight, she had more reasons to trust him than not. Excluding her parents, she couldn’t recall the last time anyone had shown even the slightest concern for her well-being.
Then, decision made, she took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Helel has escaped her punishment.”
“OK . . . that would explain Raguel’s interest.”
“Yes; her punishment was his work.”
“How did she escape?”
“No idea, but she couldn’t have managed it alone. She had help, and that’s the part where you come in. You need to find them.”
“Who?”
“And . . . that’s the delicate part I mentioned earlier. I’ve given you what I can, but I need a binding oath before I say more.” Prima hesitated, wishing he wouldn’t always exercise that uncomfortable habit o
f moving too close. “I am sorry.”
“You have no cause to apologize.”
He raised his hand, and her breath caught, wondering if he would touch her again, and if he did, what would she do in—
Ahadiel suddenly stiffened and snapped his head back, focusing intently on some point over and above her shoulder.
His wings manifested in the time it took her to blink.
Not good. “What? Is there . . . what are you . . . hey!”
She gasped, feeling something cold and large rush past her as she was yanked rapidly – and not very gently – upwards. It happened so quickly that she had only an impression of a dark mass, rows of sharp, needle-thin teeth and lots of glowing eyes.
“What was that?” Prima demanded. Only a brief, glancing contact, and she was still shivering. “Besides just nasty!”
“It wasn’t the Hodag, that much is certain,” Ahadiel said, tersely. “And you have wings, Prima. Use them.”
Belatedly, she noted that she and Ahadiel were on the roof of the Walmart building, standing knee-deep in snowdrifts. Well, Ahadiel was standing. Somehow, she’d ended up in his arms, gathered against black wool that smelled of wintry wind and wet snow.
According to her father – who had cause to know such things – angels have a scent. Yet to her, Ahadiel only ever smelled of wind, flavoured with sunlight or rain, and nothing of an individual self. She’d often wondered if he wouldn’t have an individual scent of “self” unless he became one of the Fallen.
Realizing what she was doing, Prima squeezed her eyes shut and repressed the urge to smack her head into Ahadiel’s chest. Yes, being in his arms was surprisingly . . . pleasant, but the reason she was snuggled up against rock-hard angel abs in the first place was because some toothy, scary shadow-beast had just tried to smack her into orbit somewhere above Jupiter.
“Prima?” Ahadiel, his voice sounding oddly tight. “Are you all right?”
“Of course. I’m in the arms of angel.” She looked up, summoning enough bravado to give him a wink. “How much safer could I be?”