by Debra Dunbar
“Get to the point, Remiel,” I snapped, anxious and desperate to just have this all out in the open.
“I want the young Angel of Order I created with Bencul. I left the child with Tasma, and he said you now have it. I was quite angry with the Ancient, but I understand that he has accepted you as his Iblis, and could not disobey an order from you.”
He couldn’t? That was news to me.
“He would have been dead had I not taken him,” I told the Ancient. “Tasma was to kill him.”
“But he did not do that. The angel is alive and he is mine. I would be most grateful to have him returned to me. I would ensure that no other Ancients followed Samael in this insane campaign of his. I would ensure they all declared you as the Iblis, and backed you on anything you wished to do—including taking action against this usurper.”
Usurper. What a fucking weird word.
“All Ancients? Because some of them might give you a big old fuck-you. Doriel for one.”
Remiel wrinkled his snout. “Doriel is different. The others would do as I say.”
He had that much power in Hel. I was so fucked, but there was only one choice here. Unless I could somehow find a weak spot in this Ancient’s tough hide.
“Why did you give the order for Tasma to kill the baby angel?” I asked the one thing that bothered me the most about Remiel. Abandoning Bencul? Yeah, well he’d been a total asshole of an angel, so that wasn’t unexpected. But to order the execution of a newly born innocent?
Remiel tilted his head and regarded me in surprise at the question. “Why, as a safeguard, of course. If I were killed in Aaru, I would have assumed that Bencul would have died with me. An infant Angel of Order in Hel without any powerful parental protection would have been enslaved and mercilessly tortured. I could never condemn my offspring to that. Better that he would die outright and by a swift and sympathetic hand.”
My breath left me as I tried to remember my conversation with Tasma about the infant angel. Was Remiel lying? I’d always assumed he’d wanted Lux dead as some sort of horrible mean-hearted punishment to Bencul, or because he regretted creating an Angel of Order.
“You’d wanted to kill the angel the moment you realized he was an Angel of Order,” I told Remiel. “You told Tasma to kill it the moment you took Aaru, to safeguard the infant as leverage against any betrayal by Bencul. You weren’t trying to keep the infant safe for your return, or if you failed, then deliver a mercy killing. You just wanted him dead. And now, suddenly you want me to hand him over to you? It’s not happening. Not now. Not ever.”
Remiel stiffened. “Tasma was mistaken. He must have misunderstood.”
“Liar.” Yeah, that’s right. I’d just called probably the most powerful Ancient in Hel a liar.
“I’ll admit I was horribly disappointed at creating an Angel of Order. I’d hoped Bencul would forget about the angel and we could try again after we regained Aaru. Demons often kill newly formed young if they are not what is desired. That is not uncommon.”
I suddenly thought of Ahriman killing the one offspring we’d created together because I’d not given him the devouring trait he wanted, and felt sick. It was a common practice. And it was absolutely unacceptable.
“Then why not just kill him outright? That’s what demons do. Why stick him with Tasma with orders to kill him later?”
Suddenly the Ancient before me seemed smaller, older, and weaker. “Bencul. He was thrilled to see the angel was like him. He adored our creation. I couldn’t kill it right in front of him. He never would have forgiven me for that. I thought with the excitement of taking Aaru, of regaining his rightful place there, he’d forget about the angel. I could claim it was killed in our absence, and we could try again.”
There was a truth to his words. But beyond that, I saw a horrible sorrow there at the loss of Bencul. He’d loved that angel. I knew he’d loved that angel. And when he’d tossed Bencul aside, I’d been just as shocked as Bencul had been.
This Ancient before me had once been an Angel of Chaos. He’d been in charge of punishments, of rehabilitation. To do that, he must have been closer to Order than the usual Angel of Chaos. And beyond that, there was something in there that I’d seen before. I’d seen it in Doriel’s eyes when she talked about Samael, in Dar’s face when he thought of Asta, in Ahia when her hand brushed Raphael’s. I’d seen it in myself.
The capacity for a unselfish love.
“You cannot have the angel back,” I told him. “Never. He’s mine now, and I will never return him to you.”
“Then I’ll join Samael along with the rest of Hel, and you’ll be defeated. And killed. And then I will have the child anyway. Save yourself and your beloved’s life and give him to me. I will have him in the end regardless.”
I took a breath and went all-in, like a true Iblis. “If you don’t support me and Samael wins, what do you think will happen? You’ll rule over a barren world. How long do you think Lux—your Angel of Order offspring—will live if Samael gets his way? That horrible empty feeling you have now is nothing compared to what your life will be in Samael’s future. Aaru is no longer your home. There will no longer be any foe to fight, no one to hate or blame for what happened to you—and no one to love. Lux will die at some demon’s hand no matter what Samael promises, and all that will be left for you is an empty Hel, and an equally empty world that used to be a joyous playground. All that will be left is a hollow sort of hate, and the growing rot of your spirit-being.”
Remiel looked shaken at the prospect, so I twisted the knife further.
“Bencul loved you. When you abandoned him here, surrounded by nothing but his enemies, he was devastated. His only reason for living, the only goal he had, was to find your child and somehow manage to keep him safe in an unsafe world. He died searching for the only piece of you he had left. He died trying to find and hold the one remaining piece of your love.”
Okay, a lot of that was probably a gross exaggeration. Bencul was an asshole, and the only thing he ever cared about besides himself was the angel progeny he’d begot. I’m sure it was less about Remiel being the creator, and far more that Lux carried a part of Bencul.
Remiel’s head bent, and when he lifted it I could have sworn I saw a wetness in those huge brown eyes.
“I loved him. Millions of years trapped here in Hel, and he falls from the sky into my arms like a gift from the Creator. How could I have thrown that away? How could I have been so tempted by Aaru, by the lie that I could return to a life I’d lost so long ago, that I threw away the very thing in my life I loved the most. I want the angel infant back. I want to take him to Aaru with me, where at least a part of Bencul and I, at least our legacy, can live as angels are supposed to live.”
I wanted that option for Lux as well, but not with Remiel. At least not now when Lux was so young and would be unable to defend himself.
“I can’t give Lux back to you, but I promise in a few thousand years, when he’s more mature, I will introduce him to Aaru.” Here’s where I took a leap of faith and hoped that loving Bencul had shifted something inside this Ancient. He’d wanted a life like he had before the wars, like he’d had in Aaru. I couldn’t give that to him, but maybe I could hold out hope for something close to that.
So I told him about my view of the future. I showed him the possibility of peace between us and the angels, of a common ground in the human world where we could come together and love once more. I told him about the banishment of the angels, how they were now doomed to the same fate they’d once delivered upon their brethren. I told him about Dar and Asta, and Raphael and Ahia, and how the archangel Michael loved me and hung out at my house eating potato chips, drinking coffee, and watching human movies. I told him about Gabe and Nyalla, about Snip and Beatrix.
I told him about Lux. Lux and the Lows. Lux and the archangels. Lux and Nyalla. I told him the story of the hot dog, the chipper shredder, how the angel was so worried about someone hurting the horses. I told him about Karrae, and how
she and Lux were the best of friends—the pair of them and Lux’s half-brother Nephilim, Austin. I showed him in words how wonderful the future could be.
And then I waited.
“These are things I need to think on, Iblis,” he mused. “I vow one thing, though. I will not join Samael. What he wants will only lead to the same painful outcomes. Neither I nor my household will join him. But at the same time, I don’t feel I can support you, or tell others to do so. It seems too farfetched, this dream of yours. As beautiful as it sounds, I fear it is only a dream.”
I left, realizing that even if Remiel held back, I’d still probably be facing Samael and every other Ancient in Hel. Even so, he’d not declared war on me, he’d not told me that if I refused to return Lux, he’d take him by force. I still might have to deal with that in the future, but for now, Remiel seemed willing to let things remain as they were. That was a victory. And something else was a victory as well.
Remiel had once again called me the Iblis.
I wandered through the streets of Dis to my house, thinking of what I should do next, and enjoying being home in Hel, that strange feeling returned, this time stronger. Hel was a part of me, as were every demon, here and the other side of the gates. I felt them. I sensed their emotions in a confused hurried rush of mixed-up sensations. I couldn’t control them. I didn’t own them. But somehow they were mine, like faint shadowy limbs. Their emotions, their state of being, whether they were following the rules I envisioned for Hel and my demons, or not.
If they were naughty or nice.
I stopped in the middle of the street and started to laugh. I did. In a strange way, I knew if demons were naughty or nice, as if I were some kind of fucking infernal Santa Claus. Satan. Santa. Huh. Go figure.
“Ho, ho, ho.” I shouted into the streets, laughing once more as demons turned to stare at the crazy, winged imp with the sword, at the Iblis. Then I went home—my other home.
Chapter 16
The invasion came early the next morning, before I’d had my second cup of coffee, and before most of the good citizens of the West Coast had even gotten out of bed. I’d plopped down on my couch with my mug and a Pop-Tart, and flicked on the television to see running and screaming, fire and ice…and large bird-lions swooping down from the night sky and flicking over cars with their tails. I’ll admit, it was a pretty epic scene, like watching some really good CGI in a high-budget doomsday movie.
Damn it. I hadn’t expected Samael to act quite this fast. Well, nothing to do now but figure out what exactly was going on via cable television news. Clearly this was a city, based on the skyline in the pre-dawn sky. Beyond that I wasn’t sure.
Lux popped into the room and suddenly I was looking at an angel’s naked backside instead of the television.
“Move your ass!” I shouted. Lux liked to favor a human form that fluctuated between one and three years of age, depending on how mobile he wanted to be. Thankfully he didn’t seem to require diapers because he was naked about ninety percent of the time. Gregory assured me the angel knew how to make clothing, he just preferred not to.
The baby’s wings manifested from his back—gold and white feathers twitching with annoyance as he scooted to the side. Some talking head was breathlessly advising residents to take cover and not engage the creatures, conjecturing that there must have been a rift open nearby and assuming that the angels would arrive soon to take care of the situation.
I expected the Avengers to swoop in and kick some demon ass. But this wasn’t a movie, and sadly there were no Avengers. Which really sucked because I’d totally dig a naked Thor/Ironman sandwich right now. And maybe the Hulk guy, but only if he was the big green dude. I might be an Angel of Chaos now, but I still liked a little rough sex demon-style.
“Whoa! Did you see that?” Some bear-chicken demon had just jabbed a paw through the window of a building and dragged what looked like a brand-new seventy-inch flat screen out before jogging down the street with it in his arms. Looting at its finest, although I had no doubt that other footage of people being torn apart would be coming soon. Demons were like that.
Seattle? Caramort had been in Oregon and judging by the lack of sunshine, I was guessing this was all going down on the West Coast somewhere.
Lux shook his head and turned to face me, a stern expression on his face. “Da.”
The kid had the communication skills and intelligence of a minor angel at this point, but his “speech” was a rapid-fire telepathy that came too fast for me to decipher. Gregory had no problem understanding him, but I’d taken to insisting he use his words if he wanted to talk to me. And because the kid was an asshole, he decided to talk to me as if he really were a two-year-old human child.
Still, I understood all the words behind that stern “Da.”
“Yeah, he’s going to be really pissed when he finds out,” I replied. “Can’t say I didn’t warn him, though.”
“No.” Lux waved a fat finger at me.
“I most certainly will say ‘I told you so.’ The foundation of any good relationship is being able to kick someone when they’re down and make fun of them.” I sat back on the couch and turned up the volume on the television. They were beginning to show scenes of the human casualties, and I really didn’t want to miss this.
“No.” Lux’s ass again blocked the screen. I threw the remote at him, but he didn’t budge. “Da.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine. I sent a quick text. Have you checked the gates lately? Whole bunch of demons tearing the shit out of some city. Wondering how they got in, given your new shoot-first policy.
Lux glared at me. I ignored him, so he turned back to the television.
New safeguards held. Seattle and Bogota only gates that fell.
Shit. That was two gates too many, although I was kind of proud that his Grigori had managed to hold five out of seven portals.
Watching the news now. Don’t think this is going on in Bogota or Seattle, though.
And because I figured Gabe was upstairs in Nyalla’s bedroom, I sent him a quick text as well. Might as well get the whole gang here and formulate a unified response.
My phone buzzed with the reply from Gregory. Where? Be there soon—will brief you when I arrive.
I eyed the screen, waiting for the announcers to tell me the answer to that question.
Los Angeles, I texted back. It’s an army of demons. I glanced at Lux’s backside. Told you so.
The young angel spun around and shot a glare my way. I chuckled. “Oh, come on. Like I could resist.”
He waddled over to me. “Da. No. Mama do.”
“Let me figure out exactly what’s going on before I go in there. For all I know, this is a distraction for the real attack.”
“Mama.” He put his hand on my knee and looked up into my eyes. I saw a charming vulnerability there, along with searing compassion for all those humans being dragged out of their houses and cars.
I scooped him up and set him on my lap where he snuggled into me like a little hairless puppy. For an Angel of Order, Lux sure liked sensation, especially touch. He was what the humans would have called cuddly, which Nyalla especially loved. When she was around, Lux let Nyalla carry him around and even feed him, staring at her with big adoring eyes every second.
It kinda pissed me off. Demons didn’t do that shit, and I didn’t think angels should either. But now that Lux was a warm bundle of snuggling affection in my arms, smelling of powder and sunshine, I understood the appeal.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “We’ll handle it, Da and your uncles and me. We’ll take care of it.”
“Da, no.”
“We need Da. He’s the most powerful of all the archangels. If the rest of us don’t beat some sense into these demons, he’ll show up and make them rue the day the tried to take the City of Angels.”
Lux shook his head. “Da, no.” Then he pointed at the screen.
My breath caught. “Fuck,” I whispered on the exhale. There on the screen was an angel—an A
ngel of Chaos with white-blond hair, golden skin, and pale blue eyes. His tattered decayed wings were leathery with sparse, decaying black feathers. He was quite possibly the most beautiful being I’d ever seen, and I swear I could feel his power even through the television screen.
The newscaster and humans filming the scene froze, clearly undecided if this winged man was one of their angel saviors, or on the side of the invading demons. The Ancient walked up and ripped the hand-held mic from the newscaster’s hand, then looked directly into the camera.
“This city is ours. The state is ours. All the gateways from Hel and the areas around them are ours.”
Either Gregory was wrong, or this guy hadn’t gotten the memo that his attempt to take all the major gates had only partially succeeded.
“It will all be ours,” he continued. “And we won’t rest until every living thing on this planet is dead. We won’t rest until the angels grovel before us, until we rip the wings from their backs, and slowly shred their spirit-selves. Death has arrived.”
As if to illustrate that point, the Ancient turned to the newscaster, thrust his hand through the man’s chest, and ripped out a bloody mess of organs that probably included a heart. The camera smashed to the ground, the transmission from that point a view showing only blood on the pavement, and relaying the sounds of panicked screams. The station quickly cut to a newsroom, where shaken commentators filled the horrible silence with awkward assurances that the angels would arrive soon, and all would be okay.
Angels. Not the Iblis. These were my demons tearing this city apart. I had no control over them. I’d need to rely on Gregory and the other angels to help me get control of the situation.
Except I couldn’t involve them. I didn’t want them to face their brother on a battlefield again. Which meant I needed to take care of this, and do it on my own, without angelic backup.
“Bad man,” Lux announced.
Samael. I glanced at the stairs and changed the channel, not wanting Gabe to come down and see, or hear this. Your father’s brother. He can’t know. He can’t know it’s him who’s doing this. He can’t know Samael is alive.