Shattered Walls (Seven Archangels Book 3)

by Jane Lebak

  “Permission denied,” Remiel said.

  “It’s data.” Satrinah folded her arms. “I don’t need permission to collect data.”

  Mary said, “Tell us what you did to her.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting proposition.” Satrinah’s eyes brightened. “Prior to giving any information to you, I demand your assurance that I can examine my comrade.”

  Remiel said, “Permission denied. How much clearer do you need it? Aren’t you a Cherub?”

  Satrinah looked at Mary. “She’s correct that I’m a Cherub. To be explicit, I’m a Cherub bonded to one of the same Seraphim Belior is—the demon in your care right now. Belior is one of Satan’s top demons, as is Asmodeus. Asmodeus has charged me with restoring Belior to his rightful form, and therefore I need to conduct an examination. Give me authority and I’ll do that, and then I’ll leave your household unharmed.”

  “I don’t believe anything you’re saying.” Still, it puzzled Mary that God had allowed the demon to talk to her for this long. She’d encountered demons only a few times in her life, and always an angel had worked with her to drive it off.

  Remiel didn’t have the power either, at the moment, but she at least could talk tough. “Asmodeus doesn’t care what happens to Belior.”

  “On the contrary, from my privileged position I can tell he’s extremely concerned. He won’t be able to keep up the pretense much longer that Belior is on a private mission.” Satrinah’s eyes darkened. “Asmodeus doesn’t want to lose his standing, and before he’d allow that to happen, he’d get me onto the Maskim in Belior’s stead.” She tossed her head. “I want nothing to do with that.”

  Remiel snorted. “Oh, come on. You’d love the power.”

  “I’d hate the interruptions. I love my work and the access I get to all sorts of interesting problems and materials without the necessity of explaining the solutions to Satan.” Her clothes had gotten darker now too. “It’s best for all concerned if Belior goes back to Asmodeus and they can make their excuses and be done with it. You don’t want him. We do. Hand him over.”

  Remiel took Mary’s hand and resumed walking to the house.

  Satrinah called, “I’ll harm your others.”

  Remiel made no answer, just led Mary through the street as though she knew where she was headed. Maybe she even did—she’d been on this route with Mary earlier today, and she’d figured out how to find their house in the first place.

  Satrinah flashed to the side of the road. “Bring him just to the edge of the courtyard. That will suffice for my research.”

  Mary followed Remiel and didn’t answer. They were nearly home. And then, as they entered the courtyard, Satrinah appeared once more before them, directly in the doorway.

  She lit up the stones at her feet with a blue light. “Position him here. Not out of the house, but not quite inside. I’ll undertake the examination from outside the perimeter. I’ll find a solution, and I’ll set him free. You can have your filthy magician, and I’ll have Belior.”

  Remiel walked right through Satrinah’s image without slowing down, so Mary followed. The light dispersed, and they were back behind the sealed walls.

  Mary checked on the various rooms. Zadkiel was sleeping in the common dorm with the other women, but Remiel didn’t go to her. Instead Remiel followed Mary to the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was dark with sweat.

  Mary squeezed her shoulder. “Go to sleep, bad girl.”

  “I’m fine. You should get some sleep, though.”

  Mary said, “What did you dream about that was so horrid?”

  Remiel’s face lost color, so the flush of her cheeks stood out all the more. “Kecharitomene, no, please.”

  “Is it like what used to happen to me after Jesus died,” Mary said, “when I used to wake up and remember every detail of it as if it had all happened over again? I used to be so scared.”

  Remiel closed her eyes hard. “Kecharitomene.”

  Mary reached for her hand. How could an angel look so lost, so little? “You said you were in that blizzard for days. You must have slept then.”

  “I didn’t. When they lay down at night, I’d just transcend back into angelic form and shield the house and the livestock. Before they woke up, I’d return, and I’d be re-energized.”

  “But you can’t do that now?”

  Remiel’s mouth twitched. “I can’t imagine it would help, even if I could. Given what happened last time.”

  Oh, right, the headache and vomiting. Mary said, “Speaking of which, I ought to check on our visitor to make sure he’s all right.”

  Mary had heard of people choking when they vomited in their sleep. To Belior, it made no difference which body he was stuck in. If he killed this one, he’d be no more or less miserable in the next, so it stood to reason someone needed to look after him. Mary took some leftover bread from the kitchen and a cup of wine mixed with water, and she headed into the back room. Remiel followed with a lamp.

  Belior sat awake, looking at her. Nowhere near as distressed as he’d been earlier, he instead had an attitude of patience. Patient hatred, to be sure, but a kind of predatory waiting.

  Mary held the cup to his mouth, and he drank a little, giving a strong impression that even though he must be parched by now, he was doing it as a duty rather than to slake thirst. Mary fed him the bread, and again he ate while she had an impression of duty.

  She knew the man by reputation because several of their Christians had dealt with him in the past. They whispered that he produced healings and rid girls of pregnancies, forged love charms and power amulets, devised storm wards and death incantations. Remuneration was rendered not just in the form of money. Mary had tried not to hear the tales.

  The one time she’d seen him in the agora, he’d walked alone—with two companions, but alone, as if even the ones with him didn’t want to stand too near. He had tight eyes and a tense bearing, and despite a revulsion Mary couldn’t understand, she’d next felt pity for him, and that she hadn’t understood either. So she’d prayed for him, and the moment she did, he’d looked right at her with disgust and rejection.

  Again now, inhabited by Belior, he watched with his eyes like a wolf’s. Mary alternated drink and food for him, and as she did, she knew with certitude that Belior wanted permission to speak. He had a question.

  She looked to Remiel, who shone with exhaustion. It was her decision, then.

  Mary turned to Belior. “Ask your question.”

  Belior said, “I know who you are, and I know your power. Why aren’t you using it?”

  Mary sat back, perplexed. “My power?”

  Belior didn’t change position. Was it something about demons that their faces didn’t change, or was it just that both these demons were Cherubim? Gabriel sometimes had that kind of flatness too, at least back when she used to see him often.

  Belior said, “You are the mother of the Word, and that one calls you Kecharitomene. By all reports, Gabriel referred to you using that term as well.”

  Mary shrugged.

  Belior remained expressionless. “You had an angel call you the equivalent of Your Majesty, and yet you pretend not to know what kind of power you wield?”

  Mary glanced at Remiel, who looked aggravated but wasn’t making any reply. Mary turned back to Belior. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of power you think I wield?”

  Belior laughed. “Well, your power isn’t intelligence, is it now?”

  For the first time, Remiel spoke. “If you insult her, we’ll shut you up again immediately. Behave.”

  Belior fired her a filthy look, then returned his eyes to Mary. They were human eyes, but his face was so tense around them that Mary detected a snake-like presence. “Ke,” he said, “meaning perfect or complete. Charis, meaning the life of God Himself. Mene, meaning having been put into that state by God.” Belior looked uneasy, but he continued, “Gabriel, who is not without any little power and authority himself, wasn’t even saying something
as lowly as Your Majesty. He said, Someone whom God utterly and completely filled with His grace.”

  Mary made herself sound amused. “So I have the unusual power of receiving gifts from God?”

  Belior started to reply with heavy sarcasm, then glanced at Remiel and back at Mary. Instead he said, “If I’m right, there’s nothing you can ask that God won’t grant.”

  Mary’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Since by Gabriel’s testimony you’re completely and utterly filled with His grace,” Belior said, “anything you ask will be granted you. So ask that I be freed from this body.”

  Mary took him in, considered his posture and his direct stare. He must mean what he was saying, no matter how he might be twisting the truth to get what he wanted. For whatever reason, he thought she could pull a string on God, and like a puppet, God would respond.

  In all her life, had God ever refused her anything? And if no, why not?

  “You don’t understand.” Mary smiled. “God didn’t pick me and then fill me with power, as if I could be some kind of Artemis striding over the land and working wonders.” She shook her head as she gave him a little more to drink. “If it’s true that God could never refuse me, it’s only because I would never ask for something God didn’t already want.”

  Belior looked at her in disgust. “Are you that enthralled?”

  “It’s like a marriage. Gabriel said the bond between a Cherub and a Seraph is even stronger than marriage, so maybe that too.” She smiled. “If you love someone fully, you want them to be happy, and you want what they want. You’re close enough that you know whether the thing you want to ask for is within their means and works with their overall goals. If it contradicts their goals, of course you won’t ask. Once you realize, you probably won’t even want it anymore.”

  Belior seemed incredulous, so apparently demons could manage facial expressions. “Isn’t your position more like the Queen Mother, able to give orders and make demands?”

  Mary shook her head. “If I’m the Queen Mother, then any authority I happen to have stems from my Son and His authority. It’s not mine, and it never was.”

  Belior narrowed his eyes. “Then you’re useless. Are you content being useless?”

  Mary shrugged. “No one is useful to God. I’m the handmaid of the Lord. If He gave me more, that’s only to His credit and not to mine.”

  “I’ll give you more that than.” Belior’s voice raised. “Free me and I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll teach you how to wield the power at your disposal. You’ll be able to heal, able to work miracles. I’ll make sure you live in comfort and are honored wherever you go. Remember how Gabriel pretended to be in thrall to you? I’ll do it. I’ll serve you myself!”

  “No.” She stood. “Do you want anything else to eat or drink?”

  Belior frowned at her. “This body can starve and die for all I care.”

  Mary said, “Then return to silence. I won’t force you to eat any more tonight. I’ll offer again in the morning. You may not care, but the body will start to care.”

  As Mary washed the cup she’d used for Belior, she prayed. Is that really true? You wouldn’t refuse me anything? Demons lied as a matter of course. But as she washed the cup and put it away with the others, she realized that in all her life, she’d never felt as if God had refused a prayer of hers. Even watching Jesus die, she’d either asked God to intervene and work it out for the best, or else she’d just been too numb to pray. It hadn’t been, Get him down from there. It had been horrible to know what her son was going through, so horrible, and she’d had so many nightmares afterward, and for years fear every time she’d seen a Roman soldier, but she hadn’t asked God to end it. Jesus was submitting to torture and death, and therefore she knew it must be what the Father wanted.

  Instead as she looked back over her life, she saw prayers answered: souls healed, families re-united, peace among friends, accord among the Apostles.

  Well, maybe it’s true, she said to God, but if it is, surely it’s because you’ve guided me never to ask anything that would offend you. I wouldn’t want to be an offense to you, and that’s the most important thing for my soul: to keep things right between you and me. Even if I were to want something you didn’t want, I wouldn’t want you to give it.

  Belior’s question told her quite a bit about Belior, though. Asmodeus certainly wouldn’t have refrained from using any kind of power he had to get control over whatever he wanted. And Belior wouldn’t have considered what Asmodeus wanted before making decisions that affected the both of them.

  That’s sad, Mary prayed. That’s not the way you wanted them to be.

  Glancing at Remiel, who looked even more wretched than before, Mary prayed, I wish there were something I could do to help her, just so she’d feel better about whatever it is she dreamed. Or that someone could decipher what happened to them so they could work out how to reverse it.

  She hesitated, wondering suddenly if it were okay to ask for things in prayer after what Belior had said. But then she caught herself giggling: as if a demon had any right to get in the middle of her relationship with her Creator. God was still God, and nothing she did could make God less who He was. She loved Him, and in the end, that was the only thing that mattered. So she let go of Belior’s insinuations and asked, Father, if it’s all right with you, please let Gabriel figure this out. I know he’s already working with you on this. But please, just give him some help.

  Behind her, Remiel said, “Oh, hello there.”

  Mary spun, and Remiel was facing Gabriel and Raphael.

  Nice, she prayed, grinning. She stepped forward, and Gabriel bowed, extending his wing tips toward her. Raphael smiled and gave a wave, and Mary beamed broadly at them both. “Welcome! I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  “You shouldn’t still be awake. It’s late at night, isn’t it?” Gabriel paused, as if figuring out when he was, and then shook his head. “I thought maybe if I got a better look at Remiel and Zadkiel, I might have more of a chance at figuring out what Belior did to them.”

  Mary said, “You can examine Belior, too. He’s tied up in the back room.”

  Gabriel’s feathers flared. Raphael said, “We did tell you he’d been found.”

  “I didn’t realize he was here.” Gabriel looked more serious than usual. “How did Michael tolerate that?” He turned to Remiel. “Do you mind if I examine you?”

  She shook her head. “Anything if you can get me out of this mess.”

  Mary expected him to walk around Remiel, touch her, move her into the light—and instead he just stared at her. He focused, frowning in a way Mary remembered from long ago as him thinking deeply. Finally he said, “Talk to me. Has anything happened that you think is unusual?”

  Remiel muttered, “You mean other than being stuck in a human body?”

  Mary couldn’t hide the smile when Gabriel missed the sarcasm. “Yes, other than that.”

  “Would you like the list in alphabetical order,” Remiel said, “or chronological?”

  Raphael said, “Take it easy.”

  Gabriel kept staring into her. “Nivalis is with you.”

  Remiel shrugged. “She got permission.”

  “It’s curious that God stationed her with you. There’s something to that.” Gabriel kept staring at her, into her. “So you’ve just been doing regular human things, and except when you intersect the angelic plane, you haven’t felt as if anything was odd?”

  “There was one thing,” Remiel said. “There was this sick kid, and it felt like she was pulling on me. We weren’t touching, but there was a perpetual tug, like I wanted to be near her.”

  Gabriel’s eyes snapped back into focus. “Really?” His wings raised. “And did the child die?”

  “No, God healed her. That’s also odd. I felt the healing take place.”

  Gabriel’s feathers spread.

  Raphael stepped closer. “What did that feel like to you?”

  Remiel chuckled. “Oh, of c
ourse, you’d want to pin that down.”

  “But it felt like…?”

  “Like she’d been yanking my hand, and then she let it go.”

  Gabriel rubbed his chin. “Okay, this is getting a lot more interesting, and it was already the most interesting problem I’d dealt with in fifteen years. I’m going to make your life more difficult for a little while.” He turned to Raphael. “Your turn.” Back to Remiel. “You reacted badly to Saraquael’s power before, so I’m going to repeat what he did, but with Raphael at your back to make sure you don’t suffer too much.”

  Remiel’s nose wrinkled. “You’re so nice.”

  Raphael said, “You’re really cute in that form.”

  “I’m going to thrash the life out of you the minute I’m back in my right form.” She turned to Gabriel. “Just do whatever you have to. I’ll cope.”

  Gabriel hovered over her. “I’m not going to overwhelm you, so you don’t need to be afraid. I’m going to challenge you by infusing you with a calculated amount of energy while I monitor your response.”

  Mary reached for Remiel’s hand and squeezed. Remiel sounded uncertain. “Maybe we should do this in the back room. That way if I vomit, at least I vomit on Belior.”

  “Tempting.” Gabriel’s eyes sparkled. “Okay, and…now.”

  Remiel’s hand tightened on Mary’s, but then Gabriel backed off, and she relaxed. “That was good. I’m going try that again, just a jot more.” Once more Remiel’s hand clenched on Mary’s, and she squeezed her eyes tight. Gabriel said, “You’re doing great. Can you handle it if I do this one more time?”

  Remiel’s voice wobbled. “I think so.”

  Gabriel said, “No, if you’re having problems, I’ll stop. I may have enough.” He paused. “You’re physically stressed, too. Would you like me to put you to sleep?”