by Debra Dunbar
She pursed her lips in thought, the golden dangly ball swinging with the motion. “I’ll consider it. Things are too early for me to make that kind of decision.”
Fair enough. Now for the issue I really wanted to discuss. “Read this and let me know what you think.”
Doriel took the parchment from my hand and opened it. Then she gasped. “Samael?”
“I’m hoping you can weigh in on that.”
“Why doesn’t he just call the sword if he wants it?” She frowned at the parchment.
“Either he doesn’t have control over it, and I need to either hand it over or be killed for him to take it, or he is using that as a pretext to bring me in so he can use me as bait for his siblings.”
“Or it’s not really Samael, but some imposter.” She ran a finger over the words.
I waited for her to finish. “What do you think?”
“The wording sounds like him. And the energy signature…”
“Yeah?” I held my breath.
“The energy signature is exactly as I remembered.”
Fuck. “So it’s him? In your opinion as someone who knew Samael, who was close to him, this is authentic? Samael is awake and out for blood. And wings?”
Doriel nodded. “If I had received this note, I wouldn’t doubt it. What has he been doing for two-and-a-half-million years though? And why did he not contact us first?”
She meant why had he not contacted her first. “I don’t know. I’ve heard it suggested that perhaps he blamed the other Fallen for the failure to win the war and the banishment?”
The Ancient sucked in a harsh breath. “Perhaps. I hate to think of that, but it would explain his absence since the fall as well as his not contacting us.”
Ugh, that had to hurt. Still I appreciated that Doriel was honest enough to admit that might be the case.
“Whatever the reason, if you think this is Samael, then I’m going to believe it probably is.”
“Yes.” She handed the parchment back to me. “But I wouldn’t state without a doubt that this is from Samael—not without seeing him, or at least hearing from others I trust that he’s definitely alive. Two-and-a-half-million years, and then just this parchment? The circumstances and lack of other evidence of his existence cause me to harbor a shred of doubt.”
She was right. “Somebody knows this Ancient, whether it’s Samael or not. An Ancient doesn’t just show up out of the blue, one that nobody recognizes and knows, claims to be Samael, and starts gathering followers. Demons are a suspicious lot. Outside of Lows, none of them are going to follow someone claiming to be an all-powerful Ancient, the former Iblis, unless he has references.”
She pointed the beer bottle at me. “If it’s Samael, then he’ll have the leadership skills and the power to attract demons to his side without question. He had that charisma, that way about him…it was as if we were connected to him somehow. If Samael were to appear, the demons would not be suspicious. They would be like rats and children behind the Pied Piper.”
A horrible curdling sensation churned in my stomach, and it had nothing to do with the oatmeal I’d eaten earlier. Samael had the charisma, the leadership ability. Demons would flock to him, follow him, obey his commands, fear and respect him.
He was everything I wasn’t. And yes, that curdling sensation was jealousy.
“What if it’s not him?” I asked, really, really wanting this to be an imposter and not some ideal I could never ever live up to.
Doriel shrugged. “Minor doubts aside, I think it’s him. I just can’t see it being an imposter, but if so, then it’s a high-level Ancient who knew Samael and he is faking the energy signature in a very convincing manner to get the sword from you.”
“Then it’s Samael but he’s not the same. His power is degraded, and he’s weak,” I conjectured. “That’s why I still have the sword. That’s why nobody sensed him in Hel. He didn’t want to contact any of the Ancients and have them see how he’d weakened. It was easier to grab a few thousand mid-level demons and bluff his way back into being the Iblis.”
The air crackled with her power. The beer bottle in her hand warped and melted into a blob of brown glass. “Samael wasn’t like that. No matter what happened, he’d always be the Iblis. He was our bright light, our morning star. You could feel the sharp bite of his energy from a distance, but more than that there was just an aura around him. His presence…it wasn’t something you’d ever forget. He wouldn’t weaken. He wouldn’t need to hide. If he’s abandoned us, it’s because we’re not worthy of him.”
I held up my hands. “Okay, then. He’s alive, and this note is from him. He’s ignored all the other Ancients, gathered an army of demons, and plans revenge.”
Was Samael humiliated because he blamed himself for the banishment and couldn’t face his former colleagues? Or was he angry at them because he thought the defeat was their fault? That they didn’t do enough?
“Why didn’t he join Remiel in going to Aaru?” I threw out there. “Or why not be the one to lead that initiative? I would have thought if he was going to make an appearance after all this time, it would have been then.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps he knew the devolution had reached the point where we could no longer live as beings of spirit. He didn’t want to return to Aaru, only to find he could no longer truly live there. You’ve got to admit, it’s kind of pitiful what Remiel and the others are doing, hanging around an empty world in decaying corporeal form.”
She was right—it was pitiful.
“There’s something else we need to think about. I still have the sword,” I told her. “If Samael is rising to take back power, why can’t he call it to him? He’s calling himself the Iblis in this message, but he hasn’t made any attempt to take Hel.”
She frowned. “That sword was a part of him. I can’t see him ever giving it up. It is possible that once he was cast out of Aaru, the sword abandoned him as the legends say. It’s also possible that he is the one who abandoned the sword when he Fell.”
“If it left him, and if it refuses to go back, then he’s pissed.”
“Which means he’s going to kill you to get it back. You can’t continue to live because it clearly chose you over him.”
So I better watch my back. Even though the sword was a disobedient mofo, it had been a tad more reliable in the last few weeks. Did it finally feel I was being Iblis-like in my behavior enough to grace me with its presence? Or was I getting better at commanding it? I didn’t really know, but I got the idea that if Samael had thrown the sword away and wanted it back, I could do nothing to stop him from taking it. And I was pretty sure the sword could do nothing to stop him from reclaiming it. So either the sword left him as unworthy, or he’d tossed it into the keeping of the vampires and truly didn’t want it back.
Doriel went to the fridge and pulled out two more beers, handing me one as she twisted the cap off the other and took a swig. “Samael spared his eldest brother in battle and showed mercy, only to have him rise up, deliver what probably should have been a mortal wound, then banished half of the angelic host into a living hell from which there was no coming back. Do you doubt that he’d want his revenge?”
Damn Gregory and his sins of pride and anger. He’d fucked everything up beyond belief, and the only thing keeping me from delivering a good ass-kicking was that I knew he blamed himself far more than I ever could. I don’t think he would ever forgive himself for what he’d done. Not just that, but I don’t think he could ever forgive himself for not realizing what he’d done and moving to rectify it. Building the angel gateways hadn’t been enough of an apology. He’d needed to do more. And he hadn’t. That was the cross he’d need to bear for the rest of his immortal life.
“So he’s going to kill the archangels, take the humans and their world, then kill all of the other angels or push them out into a Hel of their own where they can rot as we did.”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft and reverential, as though this revenge had been her fondest wish
for millions of years of banishment.
“Will you join him?”
Hurt flashed across her dark eyes. “He clearly doesn’t want me or he would have called me to his side.”
I felt her pain. Felt it. That weird sensation came over me again, and suddenly it wasn’t just Doriel that seemed a part of me, but every Low in the guest house, every demon scattered across the human world, every being in Hel. It was overwhelming and painful. Just as I felt like I was about to come apart, the feeling faded and vanished, and I was standing in my kitchen once more, holding a beer, talking to an Ancient.
But something lingered—an odd awareness.
“Maybe he hasn’t called you and the others because he blames himself for the banishment,” I said softly. “He had Michael on his knees, and turned his back on him. He put his family relationship, his love for his brother, above the safety and welfare of every Angel of Chaos in Aaru. He failed you, and he’s too ashamed to ask you to stand by his side now.”
What was I doing? Was I really convincing a breathtakingly powerful Ancient to join forces with the former Iblis?
Tears glistened in Doriel’s eyes. “Well then he is a fool. I would never abandon him. I would never forsake him. Never.”
“I need you,” I told her. “I need you to support me as the Iblis, especially if this is truly Samael and he’s set on destroying everything here. Can’t you see that this isn’t good for any of us? Not the humans, or the future of angels and demons. We need to be coming together, to be putting aside old grudges and working for a future of unity, of new creation like Lux.”
She hesitated. “If this isn’t Samael, then you have my support in exchange for a portion of the human world to rule.”
“And if it is Samael?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. If it is Samael, I will try to convince him to see things your way, to give up on his revenge. But you have to know that if he demands my loyalty, if this is truly Samael and he calls me to his side, then it is him I will follow.”
“Then seek him out,” I told her, trusting fate to see things right. “Seek him out, and try to change his mind. If you can’t, then ask him to wait. Let him know I’m trying to negotiate some sort of compromise. You were close once. Use that relationship to help him see that this path he’s taking isn’t going to help any of us. He once showed his brother mercy. Now it’s time for him to extend that mercy to all the angels. Our future depends on it.”
She laughed. “If his heart is set on revenge, your compromise might not be enough for him.”
It would have to be. “Will you do it? Will you find him? Go to him and counsel him to change his mind?”
Doriel nodded. “Yes, although part of me is afraid to see if this is truly him or not. I’m not sure whether I want the Ancient I meet with to be Samael or some demon who has assumed his name. What if the reason I never sensed Samael in Hel was that he’d degraded beyond what I would recognize as the angel I…”
That she loved? I’d wondered about their relationship.
“But I’m being foolish. Wounds that are not healed fester and grow,” Doriel continued. “After all this time, I do not expect to find Samael as he was. His energy signature I would recognize, but the angel I doubt I will. What has become of him in all this time? What remains of the Iblis after this long a banishment, especially given how personal the betrayal was to him?”
That was something she’d only discover by meeting him face-to-face. Would something remain deep down inside of the old Samael, the mischievous Angel of Chaos he’d been before the responsibilities of the war, before the fall? Or would nothing remain but hate and anger, a powerful Ancient determined to destroy the angels, and their pet project, to lay waste to this world and the people in it?
Chapter 11
Doriel settled in by my pool after using my mirror to send her minions scouring both sides of the gate for the Ancient calling himself Samael to demand an audience. Nyalla was out there with her, playing the hostess and keeping an eye on Lux. Last time I’d poked my head out, my girl had been gushing to Doriel about her vacation swimming with the dolphins. The Ancient had a somewhat stunned expression on her face, no doubt struggling to reconcile the Gabriel of Nyalla’s story with the archangel she’d known millions of years ago.
I smirked and headed back into the kitchen, leaving the pair alone. It was part of my evil plan. Doriel might be loyal to Samael, but Lux’s presence and Nyalla’s stories of Gabe would be a weighty influence on the Ancient’s decision if it came to a choice between me and the former Iblis.
An archangel in love with a human. A newly created angel. This was an intriguing, tempting new world that I wanted Doriel to long for and not throw away to take up with old alliances.
I was just thinking what I might want for lunch when Snip came through my door, Mestal at his heels. I thanked my Low and asked him to help Nyalla keep an eye on Lux while I spoke with the other demon. With any luck, he’d tell Doriel about his romance with the gate guardian and get her even more on my side.
“That was fast,” I told the greed demon as I led him into the kitchen. He looked much the same as he had the last time I saw him, tall and bone-thin with his hair in a man-bun and aviator shades hiding his beady eyes.
“I got resources.” He waved the laptop at me, then set it on the counter to root around in my fridge. Yanking out a soda, he poured it into a glass, then went back to the fridge to take out a bottle of chocolate syrup. “Between the handy-dandy internet, and my network of demons, all of whom owe me some pretty significant favors for the gains in their portfolios this last month, I pretty much know everything there is to know about everybody.”
That was definitely a gross exaggeration, but Mestal had proved to be a good resource to me. I watched as the demon poured a healthy amount of chocolate syrup into his soda and gave it a stir.
“Last chance to get in on that short-sale deal before I drop the hammer. You game or not?” he asked.
At first the demon had chafed at the restrictions I’d put on him for continued access to the human world, but he’d quickly turned the situation around to his advantage, keeping his scams low-key and confined to a group of already risky propositions within the financial markets. He’d had to be additionally sneaky to pull these swindles off, and Mestal found he really enjoyed being sneaky.
The reward was always greater when you actually had to use some finesse and brain to succeed. And this particular demon found even greater joy in his side project—being a snitch.
“No, I don’t want in on your fucked-up junk bond shit. I’m a slum lord. That’s about as much crap as I can get away with nowadays.” Being on the Ruling Council with a bunch of butthurt angels—especially Gabe—meant I had to be careful not to cross the line too far. Or get caught crossing the line too far.
“Your loss.” Mestal took a swig of his soda, then added more chocolate. The guy had a sweet obsession worse than any angel I’d ever known. I mean, chocolate in a full-sugar soda? Blech.
“So, I found out the deal on Caramort—who he’s reporting to as well as where he’s setting up shop. Popiel isn’t involved in any of this directly, but a dozen or so from his household are. And Basilisk is dead, trying to take down some angel in Wyoming somewhere. Seems he fucked up and underestimated what he was up against. No big loss there. Speaking of which…” The demon cast a narrowed, side-eye glance to the left, then to the right, as if he thought we might be overheard. “There’s a situation you need to know about.”
Did I mention Mestal was enjoying his tattle-tale project far too much?
“What? More tales of someone peeing in the City of Alexandria pool? Or keying cars in the Bethesda Metro parking garage?” Those were just two of the inane “infractions” Mestal had run to tell me about over the last couple of weeks. I’d seriously considered relieving him of his snitch duties, but was worried without the excitement of busting demon jaywalkers and shoplifters, he’d turn to more grim activities—ones that would ca
use me to do paperwork.
And in spite of all his misdemeanor policing, he had tracked down Caramort, Basilisk, and Popiel. Better than Gimlet, which really wasn’t saying much.
“This Caramort guy isn’t just involved in a plot to kill angels for bounty,” he announced, tossing the empty chocolate syrup bottle into the trash. “He’s hooked up with some Ancient claiming to be Samael. They supposedly have an army that they got through the Seattle gate after killing the former guardian. There’s a plan to claim a chunk of the human world, set up base here, and basically annihilate the angels.”
“From a base. In the human world.” I shook my head. It all sounded very military, which felt like something the Samael of legend would do. Make this world their battleground, since Aaru was out of the question. I hated the thought of what would happen to the humans caught in the middle of this.
And I hated the thought of how Gregory and the other archangels would suffer at having to face their brother in battle once more.
“Yeah. Caramort thinks the humans might join them if they word it something like ‘throwing off the shackles of their angel oppressors’ or something like that.”
I frowned. “The humans are nervous about the angels being down here, but there’s negotiations. The environment isn’t right for any shackle-throwing right now. There’s no cause for the humans to want to partner with demons against angels, especially when the angels have been helping close the rifts and taking down any supernatural baddies that cross.”
Mestal shrugged. “That’s what Caramort says. My guess is that if the humans don’t support them, the demons will just get rid of them, too.”
Idiots. Angels had been underestimating humans since day one. It seems Samael and his demons were doing the same.
“Caramort tried to recruit me, but I told him no way. I’m far too busy with my short-sale deals, and my…” Mestal looked side-to-side again, “my special project with you.”