by Debra Dunbar
“I haven’t smited him because this whole thing is funny.” He grabbed the bag back. “I’ve got no idea who it is, and I don’t really care. Michael will kill him soon enough. He’ll go flying out there all pissed off with his sword and chop the guy into little bitty pieces before he ever realizes it’s not me.”
I winced at the bitterness that burned around the edges of his casual tone. “Michael would hold back if he thought it was you.” Actually his brother would probably refuse to fight him at all, would bare his neck to the stroke of Samael’s sword as some sort of apology for what he’d done. But I didn’t tell him that because the asshole in LA wasn’t Samael, and the real one didn’t have a sword or apparently any interest in any sort of revenge on his brother. “Now, stop being a dick. And don’t eat all the fucking Cheetos.”
“I am a dick. It’s how I roll.”
He held the bag out of my reach, cramming a huge handful into his mouth and spilling crumbs onto my bed as he spoke. In anyone else it would have been disgusting, but this angel was so damned gorgeous I was pretty sure he could do anything and it wouldn’t be disgusting.
I gave up on the Cheetos and just drank my beer instead. “Yeah, I get that, Gimlet. What about the note? You’re the one who left it on my table. Are you working with this fake-Samael? Did you somehow instigate this whole thing?”
He laughed. “The note? That was pure inspiration. That fake-Samael asshole assigned some poor greed demon to deliver it. The guy was pissing himself, because he knew the moment he showed up at your door with that note, he was as good as dead. So I offered to deliver it for a price. And of course I embellished on it a bit. I had to make it sound less ranty and more like it actually came from me. Got you off your ass though, didn’t it?”
It had. “And the fire demon in Seattle? Was that blast meant for you or for me?”
“You. But I know Coapt, and was worried he’d put a few puzzle pieces together. Well, that and I didn’t want him to give you too much information. What’s the fun in that?”
I’d gone into this hoping I could talk him into helping us, and maybe into reconciling with his brothers. But I was getting the impression that Samael wasn’t going to go along with either of those two ideas.
“So what’s your game plan? Run around disguised as a Low for the rest of your life, hope none of your siblings recognize you, let some asshole Ancient impersonate you and destroy all life on this planet?”
“Yeah. Pretty much that.”
I stared at him, hoping to intimidate him into elaborating. I should have known better.
He took a swig of beer and dug around in the Cheetos bag. “I’ll admit I wasn’t too impressed with you until I found out you were actually banging my brother. I mean banging. How in all of Aaru did you get him to put aside nearly six billion years of ridged assholery and actually fuck you? An imp. He fucked an imp. I thought it was a lie until I got close enough to sense his energy all over you. More than all over you. Somehow you got the bastard to give you a chunk of his personal energy.” He shot me a significant glance. “You do realize other demons can be angels too if they do the same, right?”
All the rebuttals fell away and I stared at him agape. “No. You’re lying. I got that portion of his spirit-self when he tried to bind me. I’m an angel because I’m a devouring spirit and he got too close to me. It’s not… It’s a one in a million thing. That’s not true.”
“Of course, it’s true.” He looked me up and down. “Idiot. You really are stupid, you know. I’ve got no idea how you’ve survived this long.”
Yeah, me either. “That aside, you can’t seriously be willing to stand by and watch while this faker tries to kill every last angel?”
“Don’t care.” But there was a flicker of something in his eyes that told me he did.
“How about the humans? You’ve spent the last several million years roaming among them. Do you really want to see this place turn into a lifeless rock while you do nothing?”
He smirked. “You do realize there are seven billion humans here, right? They outnumber the angels and the demons combined by a huge percentage. The demons might take out the angels but when it comes to the humans, they’ll get frustrated with how difficult killing them all is and wander away from the fake Samael, like they always do. They’re not like Angels of Chaos. They can’t be led for long. They’re too independent. It’s like trying to herd cats. You can make them run in one direction by shaking a treat can or shining a laser pointer, but five seconds later they’re all over the place. And the angels would be wise to remember this as well. The humans are more like demons than they are angels, and they’re far from helpless. Piss them off enough and the angels will find out what a pain in the ass these humans can be.”
“In the past angels have threatened to destroy all the humans and start over,” I told him.
He laughed. “Gabe has threatened that. He and a few of his whack-job purists occasionally make that threat. Seven billion people. Yeah, it’s easy to flood the planet and destroy all but a handful of chosen back when it was only a few thousand of them, but there’s no way the angels can wipe out seven billion people. Not without destroying the rest of life on the planet, and none of my siblings would go that far.”
Interesting how he had a note of pride in his voice at that statement.
“Help me,” I urged him. “Help us get rid of this fake Samael and create a stable world here for the humans, the angels, and the demons. You’ve got the leadership skills and the charisma that I lack. You could make this happen.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Are you trying to give me that sword back? Because the answer is no.”
Damn it.
“Then at least see your brothers. And Uri, who’s now decided to be female for some reason.”
He blinked and a surprised laugh escaped him. “Uri is female now? Good for her! I’d always hoped she’d find the strength to buck the trend. She’s stronger than she thinks. She just needs to get out from under Micha’s shadow.”
“See them. They’ll want to see you, to make amends. They’ve missed you all these years. They’ve regretted what happened, especially Micha.”
“No.” The word was sharp and final.
“Wounds that are not healed fester and grow,” I told him.
The angel shook his head. “Where the fuck did you get that wise old chestnut? Sometimes wounds grow layers around them, like nacre around a pearl. The irritant is always there, but softened and smoothed with time until it’s barely noticeable and easily tolerated.”
But still there. It wasn’t my place to force a reconciliation if Samael wasn’t ready, and I couldn’t exactly compel him to help either.
“At least act as my mentor? Give me pointers and tips?”
“Yeah. Don’t get killed.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” I shot back.
“I don’t.” He munched thoughtfully on a Cheeto. “You definitely liven things up, though. I haven’t been so entertained in a long time.”
I shook my head, but before I could say anything more, that connected feeling flickered on briefly before fading away. Demons. Ten thousand demons, and they were on the move. I yanked out my phone and sent Gregory a text, then hopped off my bed.
Gimlet-Samael pulled the bag of Cheetos over on his lap and reached for another beer. “Oh, one thing before you go.”
“Yeah?” I hesitated, hoping for some word of advice that would make this all go right.
“Where’d you put those oatmeal raisin cookies?”
Chapter 21
I’d gotten used to teleporting large groups, but not when they were scattered all over the place. It was incredibly disorienting to pull Lows from my guest house and from my homes in Hel, Terrelle and Nils from halfway across the fucking globe, and other demons from Eresh and Dis. Then I overshot our destination by about five hundred feet and dumped us all right in the middle of a firefight.
The good news was having a bunch of demons and a Falle
n angel appear out of nowhere completely freaked out our opposition. Unfortunately, it also freaked out the angels. The resultant screams and diving to the ground on both sides was pretty damned funny. As was the fact that I’d given my little army no warning whatsoever, and they were yanked onto a battlefield right in the middle of whatever they were doing. Terrelle was holding a toothbrush. Nils was naked with an erection. A few of my Lows were holding slices of pizza or beers, or had interesting objects protruding from their asses. The best was Zalanes, who appeared holding a durft, which he promptly threw with a startled scream. Luckily he was facing the demons, and the durft landed in their midst.
The animal was pissed. I’m pretty sure it was pissed before it left Hel and being teleported then thrown through the air didn’t help its mood any. Thus, my first success in this fight was sending a dozen battle-hardened demons running and screaming from a furry vicious animal.
We might not have been prepared, but my little army quickly got with the program, which meant we all scattered in different directions, doing whatever the fuck we felt like. A few of the Lows took the advice I’d given to Snip and hid behind the nearest set of wings, trying to throw rocks from between angels’ legs. Others were screaming like little berserkers, hitting demons with their pizza slices and beer bottles, or whatever they’d had in their asses—which was proving to be surprisingly effective.
I revealed my sword and did a delicate balancing act between killing demons and slowly retreating, diminishing their numbers while drawing them into the mountain pass Gregory had selected. He and the others were keeping the demons from making headway anywhere else, funneling them gradually into our trap.
As I swung the sword with my inexpert hand, I reached out to sense the demons. Ten thousand, give or take a few hundred. I felt them, knew their general locations. Our trap was working, and from what I could tell, no armies were swarming through the other gates from Hel. Fake Samael was at the rear, Doriel and her forces holding back as well. I’d imagined she was using some excuse about protecting him for not advancing, and I wasn’t sure this fraud would call her on the apparent cowardice, since he was doing the same.
The real Samael would have led his army up front, not huddled in the back like this dickhead. Although given that the real Samael was probably still at my house eating cookies and drinking milk, maybe not.
I wasn’t sure how to reconcile Samael the legend, Samael the playful, powerful archangel, Samael the loving brother, with the being I’d spoken to in my bedroom. He’d just walked away from it all. I imagined the Angels of Chaos after the fall, confused and injured, devastated by their banishment to Hel. They would have looked for him, needing his guidance and leadership.
And he’d walked away.
We fought for hours, destroying buttes and leaving nothing alive on the scorched earth. The whole time the angels closed in from the sides, werewolf packs helping to ensure none of the demon army broke from the narrow pass we’d herded them to.
I felt a sudden unease, and knew the demons had realized their mistake. Now. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number, hoping Criam got Doriel the burner phone I’d bought, and that someone had shown her at least how to turn it on. She didn’t have to know how to work the thing, just enough to hear the ring-tone.
The next few minutes felt like hours. If Doriel didn’t get my message, or if she changed her mind, or if “Samael” suspected she was a spy, this would all be for naught. The demons would retreat and spread back out, and we would have lost our chance at dealing them a crippling blow.
Then the demons surged forward, trapped. I sent my little army into the mix, happy to see several units of angels fighting right beside them. Pulling my phone back out, I dialed one more number, and almost immediately saw a host of winged demons overhead. The angels had a moment of panic, but pressed forward with renewed energy once they saw the new arrivals were fighting on our side.
Remiel. The Ancient himself had continued to remain neutral, but at my last visit, he’d agreed to supply me with one hundred of his household—specifically those who could manifest a winged form and were reliably good fighters. Demons fell before us. Those still alive and fighting were panicked, unable to advance or retreat, and also fighting off an aerial attack. I felt the sharp bite of “Samael’s” anger, knew that Doriel was in the unenviable position of having to fight the fake Samael and keep pressure on the demons wedged into the mountain pass. We were winning. Soon, enough of the demons would have died that the rest would surrender to us. We were winning.
And then we weren’t.
I gasped, dropping to my knees as my senses were hit with an onslaught of thoughts and emotions. Ten thousand had dwindled to eight, but suddenly there were more. My head ached and I frantically tried to figure out what was going on.
The gate. The gate in Seattle. Instead of trying to come through the other gateways and seize other cities while we were preoccupied here, “Samael” had directed all his remaining forces to the one gate he already held. And seeing how the battle was going, he’d brought them all through.
Thirty thousand demons. Twenty of them were Ancients.
And they were killing everyone who opposed them, opening up a retreat for the demons we’d trapped. I felt them all shift, then run for it, angels and winged demons chasing them.
“Stop!” I yelled. Then I yanked my phone out.
S has backup. Rear collapsing. Block and hold. Numbers too large to engage.
I sent the text to the archangels, revealed my wings and took flight, weaving around Remiel’s fighters as well as the occasional bolt of energy to get enough altitude to truly see what was going on.
The angels were holding the perimeters, but behind me Doriel’s forces were being slaughtered. Their deaths hit me like a physical blow. I felt Doriel’s scream of pain, sensed her spirit-self unraveling at the edges.
No.
In a blink I was there, sword raised to absorb the attack. My hands shook, the force of the blow knocking me a few feet backward. I nearly stepped on a fallen Doriel, her physical form bloodied and torn, her spirit-self horribly injured.
Get my household out of here. Her words were laced with agony. I can hold him back long enough. Save my household.
I sensed them, tried to hold the threads of their lives in my mind to teleport them to safety, but I couldn’t. It was one thing to do this with my own household, but I was too young, too inexperienced to do this with a group of demons I didn’t know, that I could barely feel as my own.
So instead I planted my feet, sword at the ready, and faced “Samael”. Without a second’s hesitation, he hammered me with energy blasts. I swung the sword wildly, deflecting those I couldn’t absorb. And by the time I’d come up for air, he was gone.
Gone. Fucker ran away. If I hadn’t known before that he was an imposter, I would have now.
I watched the few stray demons as they retreated, sensing the bulk of them on the other side of the mountains. Twenty Ancients and “Samael”. Thirty thousand demons. We’d been so close, but here we were, right back where we’d started this morning. Actually, worse off since “Samael’s” army was stronger than before, and I’d just blown the only two tricks I’d had.
The favor from Remiel was one-and-done. And Doriel… I went over to her and helped her stand. She’d repaired the critical wounds on her physical form, but she was depleted and her spirit-self seriously injured. She wouldn’t be fighting again for a long time. And of her two-thousand-member household, only the fifty demons surrounding us remained. I felt sick at the thought. She’d been one of the few Ancients to support me. She’d pledged herself and her household to me, and put them all in danger behind enemy lines. When I’d told her my plans, I’d never expected this as the outcome.
The loss of her household, her injuries—it was all my fault. I’d let her down.
“I let you down,” she told me. “I failed. I failed Samael during the war, and now I failed you.”
I put my arm around he
r to hold her upright. “I fucked up. I’m shit at this strategy stuff, at this battle stuff. I’m a damned imp, not an archangel.”
“You’re the Iblis,” she gasped. “You don’t have to be good at battle, you just have to be the Iblis.”
Clearly she was hallucinating from pain, because being the Iblis meant being good at diplomacy, negotiation, building consensus and bringing demons together for a common goal—and battle, both strategy and fighting. None of those skills were in my wheelhouse, and as hard as I tried, I didn’t seem to be learning fast enough.
“Hel?” I asked her. “Or my home here? You relax and I’ll transport you and your household.”
“Hel. My home. Criam… I need Criam near me.” She took a few ragged breaths and slumped against me. “I will send any uninjured back to help you. I will rally the other Ancients, work to convince them to support you. I’ll be here for the next battle.”
“No, you won’t. You’re in no shape for fighting. You’ll be killed.”
“Should have died two-and-a-half-million years ago anyway.” She looked up at me, her dark eyes starting to lose their focus. “I fight. I fight until we win, or I die.”
I caught my breath at the thought of such loyalty. And I hoped that I could prove myself worthy of it.
Chapter 22
I’d never felt so fucking on edge.
The angels were stretched thin, trying to hold the demon army in one geographic area. Gregory and the other archangels debated whether to exert the significant energy it would take to close down the other gates, or keep their reserve power levels up and hope the few Grigori left could safeguard the portals from Hel. Pretty much every shifter was heading west to help. Gabe had even asked the humans for their assistance.
And the vampires…well, the vampires basically gave us a giant fuck-you. I wasn’t surprised.
Doriel and what remained of her household were back in Hel. I’d barely deposited her on a comfy couch before she was giving orders, demanding audiences with other Ancients, and struggling to heal herself as best as she could. I assured her that she could be of more use to me gaining support and loyalty for my side, than killing herself trying to fight while so injured.