No Quarter

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “I am glad, Gabriel.” Michael smiled. “I confess, I had a wonderful evening. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Gabriel hesitated for a moment. “So….”

  “So?”

  “I… guess I should head home, check the kids, that sort of thing.” Gabriel rocked slightly onto the balls of his feet.

  “Ah, yes, of course.” Michael bit his lower lip before asking, “May I kiss you?”

  Gabriel drew in a soft breath. “Aye. I’d like that a lot.”

  Michael stepped close, and Gabriel cupped his face between his hands and kissed him. The kiss was passionate and hungry. Michael’s arms slid around Gabriel’s waist, and Gabriel hummed into the kiss as he felt Michael’s hands slide up and down his back, Michael’s fingers carefully avoiding the edges of Gabriel’s wing joints. Michael made a small noise of need into the kiss, and Gabriel groaned in response.

  The kiss was over all too soon, and Gabriel rested his forehead against Michael’s. He wanted to stay, wanted to ask Michael to invite him in, but he had promised to take things slowly, and he didn’t want to push. He leaned in to kiss Michael’s forehead softly, then kissed his cheeks and stepped back.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow,” Gabriel said.

  “I would like that.” Michael smiled.

  “Yeah? I mean, good, great. I’ll see you then.” Gabriel blipped out before he embarrassed himself.

  He reappeared in the living room of his Deep Bay house and was immediately assailed with questions from his children.

  “How was it?”

  “Did you kiss him?”

  “Mira!”

  “What? Oh right, like you don’t want to know, John.”

  “Mira, shut up. Did you dance all night?”

  “And did you kiss him?”

  “Whoa now, one at a time!” Gabriel tugged off his suit jacket and tossed it aside, sitting down in an armchair. “Have you two been waiting for me to get home so you can gossip?”

  “Yes.” Mira nodded. “Our love lives suck, so we need to live vicariously through you.”

  “God, Mira, stop it!” John was blushing crimson.

  She waved a hand dismissively at him and turned back to Gabriel. “Details. We want them, Papa.”

  “Wow, how did I raise two such gossipy kids?” Gabriel laughed. “Have you two been spending time with Raphael?”

  “No?” John looked puzzled at the question, but Mira wrinkled her nose.

  “You think we’re bad, he’s terrible. He’s such a gossip, honestly.”

  Gabriel laughed again, shaking his head. “Oh boy. Raph picked his new apprentice in the art of gossiping, I see. Okay, okay, what d’you want to know? And I’m not telling everything, mind you, because some stuff is none of your business.”

  “Ooh, you had sex!” Mira laughed as Gabriel glared. “Sorry, sorry. I’m teasing you.”

  “Yeah, you better be, young lady.” Gabriel rubbed his face with one hand and gave up. “Fine, okay, we went dancing, had dinner, took a walk along the beach, I saw him home, gave him a good-night kiss, and came back here.”

  “That sounds so romantic,” Mira said, sighing.

  John, however, was frowning. “Is he a good guy, Pops?”

  Gabriel blinked as he tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, ’course. He’s an Archangel, like me. The only one older than me, actually, but yeah, he’s a good guy. Why do you ask?”

  John shrugged one shoulder. “Just making sure. Loads of people seem like they’re good folk but end up being the exact opposite. I just don’t want you to get hurt is all.”

  Gabriel sighed softly and leaned forward, gazing seriously at his son. “John, I promise you, Michael is the best of all us. I’m not saying that out of bias or fondness or anything else. He really is the best of all of us. He’s spent all of humanity’s existence living with you, working with you, doing everything in his power to help humans. He’s lived as a beggar, as a servant, as a slave. He’s a genuinely good guy.”

  John mulled that over, chewing his lower lip. “Okay. If you’re sure and he makes you happy, then I’m happy. He does make you happy, right?”

  “I’ve known him forever, but yeah, romantically… this is a first for both of us. So yeah, from one date, I can say that he makes me happy. Are you two finished with your interrogation now?” Gabriel looked from one to the other.

  “Until the next time you see him.” Mira rested her chin in her hands. “When are you seeing him next?”

  “Gah, kids.” Gabriel threw up his hands in mock frustration. “I’m seeing him tomorrow, and no, it’s not a date.”

  “Yet,” Mira teased.

  “Gross.” John wrinkled his nose. “Next you’ll be planning a gay Archangel wedding.”

  Mira started to laugh, and Gabriel groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You two are unbelievable,” he said. “Unbelievable bloody gossips, and you’d have a great career as gossip column writers.”

  “You wouldn’t marry him?” Mira looked at him curiously.

  “We don’t marry,” Gabriel said. “It’s not an angel ‘thing’.”

  “What do you do, then? Bond? Is that the term? When you get all… commitment-y.”

  “Mira,” Gabriel said with a heavy sigh, “you’re getting close to things I’m not going to talk about.”

  “Because you can’t or you won’t?”

  “Won’t.” Gabriel was firm. “Let it go, please. I’m serious.”

  “Fine.” She pouted. “Oh, by the way, Uncle Tzad called while you were out. He said he’ll catch up with you tomorrow night, late, and not to try to get in touch with him until he calls you. He didn’t say why or anything.”

  Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he pondered the meaning of the message. “All right. Thanks. Now, you two, it’s getting late, so go to bed.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Mira got to her feet and moved to him, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” she whispered in his ear. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s all right.” Gabriel hugged her. “Go and get some sleep, sweetheart.”

  She nodded and left the living room. John watched her go and turned to Gabriel with a wry smile on his face.

  “She means well, Pops.”

  “I know, kiddo, I know.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “Let me guess: she’s distracting herself from her own depression by focusing on my love life?”

  “Got it in one.” John nodded. “I’ll call Uncle Sammy in the morning and ask if he can bring Uncle Remi over. Maybe Uncle Remi can work a bit of his mercy mojo and help her feel a bit better. Because, I think, mostly? She feels like an idiot for letting that shit happen to her back in Wisconsin, and that she got assaulted by a demon after everything you taught us growing up.”

  “Damn,” Gabriel swore. “I didn’t even think of that. It’s not her fault at all! Hell, no human can sense a demon with any certainty. It’s an angel thing, an Archangel specialist thing.”

  “Remember, years ago, you once said to me that intellectually knowing a thing doesn’t mean that emotionally knowing a thing always follows?” John nodded as Gabriel raised his eyebrows at him. “Yeah. She knows, intellectually. Emotionally, not so much. It’ll take time, that’s all.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Gabriel said quietly. “I really do.”

  “I know, Pops. Anyway”—John’s lips quirked in a small smile—“you should have faith.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “Aye, I should have faith, and I do, brat. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Night.” John grinned as Gabriel ruffled his hair.

  “Night, kiddo.” Gabriel watched his son leave the room. And although he was alone, he sent his thought Heavenward, his mental voice full of his affection for his two children. “Thank You for blessing my life with such remarkable kids, God. You’ve blessed me beyond my ability to say. Thank You.”

  A single beam of white light shimmered through the cracks in the curtains of the living room, and Gabrie
l smiled, inclining his head at that benediction of Celestial light.

  Chapter Seven

  TZADKIEL walked down the street with his two most trusted lieutenants flanking him. Clad in a navy blue suit, Tzadkiel fiddled with his cell phone, giving the appearance of one who was preoccupied with business and had very important matters to attend to.

  On his right, Sophiel, the Angel of the Moon, wearing a dark green, tailored wool suit, carried a leather attaché case. Her dark hair was done up in an almost austere bun on the back of her head. Her form was Chinese, Sophiel having spent centuries among the people of China. Her fondness for the Chinese was second only to her absolute loyalty to Tzadkiel; it was for that reason that Tzadkiel relied on her so much.

  On his left was Brieus, Angel of Demon Hunting. Brieus spoke in rapid-fire Spanish to Tzadkiel as they walked, his hands tucked into the pockets of the very expensive camel hide overcoat he wore. Brieus had spent the last five centuries in Cuba, hunting down demons who sought to launch attacks on humanity from deep in the forests. In Tzadkiel’s mind, Brieus was as essential as Sophiel to the mission.

  The streets of Atlanta’s business district were bustling with the midday traffic of workers rushing from office to lunch and back again. Among the hubbub of humanity, the three angels blended in seamlessly, with no one giving them a second glance.

  Even as Sophiel spoke out loud of spreadsheets and orders and shipping numbers, her mind was speaking of very different things to Tzadkiel and Brieus, and her tone was acerbic. She was clearly annoyed by the very existence of the charms, and Tzadkiel couldn’t blame her.

  “Are we sure Gabriel’s intel is correct?” Sophiel shifted her attaché case to her other hand. “No disrespect, Sir, but he’s a soldier, not a member of the secret police.”

  “The intel’s good, Sophiel. I checked before calling you two in to back me up.” Tzadkiel offered her a small smile of reassurance. “Gabriel’s many things, but he’s our General, and he knows what he’s doing. That’s why he’s got me going in and why I have you two along.”

  “I think what’s more worrying here is that these charms are being trafficked by a human. Humans,” Brieus corrected himself. “What do they get out of it? Demons are notorious for breaking their word.”

  “That’s something we’ll have to ask.” Tzadkiel shook his head. “Because honestly, I have no damn idea.”

  “Greed, perhaps? Power? Revenge? The usual things demons offer humans to get them to do what they want.” Sophiel shrugged. Out loud, she added, “The office is over there.” She nodded discreetly at a nondescript building on the other side of the street.

  “Excellent. Shall we go, then?” Tzadkiel looked at his two lieutenants for a long moment as they both nodded once, their expressions serious and determined. Squaring his shoulders and tucking his cell phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Tzadkiel led the way over the road and into the building.

  The interior was quiet and dim—too quiet. It was an empty reception area, with an untended front desk and an open door behind it. The lights were all out, and the result was almost sinister. Long shadows lurked in corners of the room, and there was a silence and stillness to the room that made the hackles on the back of Tzadkiel’s neck rise up. Tzadkiel was tense immediately, all senses alert, his Archangel powers reaching out stealthily, seeking any traps or dangers.

  “Where’s the damn light—oh! I’m sorry.” A woman with unnaturally bright red, almost orange, hair cut into a severe style framing her jaw paused in the doorway. “I didn’t realize anyone was here. I’m sorry there’s no light. We had some bulbs blow, and they haven’t been changed yet.” She wore a red business jacket and black slacks; the red of the jacket clashed horribly with her hair, giving her a garish appearance.

  “Quite all right.” Tzadkiel smiled. “We’re looking for Ms. Lia Darguill.”

  “Well you found her. What can I do for you, Mr.—?”

  “Bianco. Tony Bianco.” Tzadkiel extended his hand and Lia Darguill took it. Her hand was warm and dry in his, her grip firm and unyielding. Tzadkiel concluded that this woman was not going to be an easy nut to crack. “These are my business partners,” he continued, “Luo Ming-Xia”—Sophiel inclined her head politely as she shook Lia’s hand—“and Luis Hernández.”

  “Pleasure to meet you all.” Lia shook Brieus’s hand and then looked curiously at the three of them. “How can I help you, Mr. Bianco?”

  “My partners and I own a firm that specializes in providing the underprivileged in Third World nations the necessary books required for education programs as launched by various international charities,” Tzadkiel said smoothly. It was a cover operation that he had used many times before. Although books were distributed, along with medical and food aid, the company worked well when Tzadkiel needed cover to investigate potential demon-run businesses. “We’re looking to expand the choices of books we offer our clients, and your business was recommended to us as a leading company in this industry.”

  “Well.” Lia smiled. “I’m certainly flattered. I will say that your organization sounds most altruistic, but I’m not sure what sort of a business you think it is I run.”

  “Is this not a warehouse for the distribution of educational text books?” Sophiel asked.

  “Yes, but the books are for technical colleges, for adult students,” Lia explained. “We don’t actually offer anything for facilities that cater for children.”

  “Ah. Well.” Tzadkiel frowned slightly. Before he could say anything, Brieus spoke.

  “School-aged children aren’t our clients’ only concern, Ms. Darguill.” Brieus smiled slightly. “I myself represent those clients of ours who are looking to provide adult educational facilities to help the unemployed and unskilled learn new skills in order to gain work. So, what you distribute here would be of great interest to my clients. The contract is quite lucrative,” he added, “and it would, of course, be exclusive.”

  “Hooked her,” Tzadkiel thought. “Good work, Brieus. I didn’t think of that.”

  “Quick thinking,” Sophiel added. “Everything I got from your early recon suggested that this business catered to kids, not adults. I’m sorry, Tzadkiel.”

  “Not your fault, Sophiel. Don’t worry about it.” Tzadkiel maintained his polite, professional attitude as Lia spoke.

  “I see.” Lia’s eyes were filled with undisguised greed. “That does certainly change matters. What sort of books or manuals would you be interested in for your clients, Mr. Hernández?”

  “Agriculture, auto mechanics, and recycling mechanics primarily,” Brieus said. “Are you able to provide those sorts of manuals?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely.” Lia smiled widely. “We actually have a lot of auto mechanics textbooks here in stock, and a sample of what we can offer you in agriculture and recycling. Perhaps you’d all like a tour of the warehouse?”

  “That would be most accommodating of you, Ms. Darguill.” Sophiel smiled back. “Thank you.”

  “This way, please.” Lia gestured to the door behind the reception desk, and the three angels followed her through it.

  After the dimness of the reception area, the sharp, stark, white light of the fluorescent bulbs that lit up the warehouse was almost blinding. Tzadkiel blinked several times as he looked around, taking in the pallets loaded with crates, the forklift, the bookshelves lining the far wall. There were half a dozen people working industriously packing boxes, and they didn’t look up as Lia led the angels into the warehouse.

  “As you can see,” Lia began, “this is one of our major hubs for shipping out large orders. We’re currently filling an order for a long-time client in New York City.”

  “I see.” Tzadkiel looked around, looking up at the ceiling, then over to an area where three desks sat piled with paper, each with a computer perched precariously on one corner. “Are you the sole owner of this company, Ms. Darguill?”

  She laughed at that. “Oh no. I’m just the CEO of the Atlanta division. The head
office and company owner is in New York.”

  “Where you’re sending this order?” Brieus asked.

  “Yes. A lot of our stock goes up to New York.” She smiled. “This way, if you please.” She led them toward the shelves lining the far wall. “Here we have samples of the sorts of manuals and books we can offer. Hopefully, Mr. Hernández, there will be something here your clients will like.”

  “Thank you.”

  They walked past the staffers packing the boxes, and Tzadkiel felt Sophiel tense beside him. The reason for it became clear a moment later as one of the workers turned to face him and Tzadkiel saw the silver feather on a chain glittering at his throat.

  His short sword was instantly in his hand, invisible to the naked human eye and to demons, and he saw Sophiel had her liu-ye-dao—Chinese saber—in hand. Brieus held his Spanish saber with its point low. As they walked past the staff, Tzadkiel kept a discreet watch on them, but none of them paid him or his companions any attention at all. Lia was talking about the books and gesturing to the shelves, and Brieus was answering her calmly, but Tzadkiel and Sophiel’s attention was on the six humans—and one demon (so far)—who were packing the boxes.

  “They’re all demons.” Sophiel’s voice in his mind was as cold as ice.

  Tzadkiel swore. “Wrap it up, Brieus,” he ordered. “We need to come back here tonight.”

  “Right, boss.” Brieus smoothly wrapped up his conversation with Lia, giving her his business card and shaking her hand warmly, promising to have a contract drawn up and delivered to her via courier by the end of the week.

  As they said their good-byes and walked out of the warehouse, Sophiel moved past the desks and brushed the computers and the telephones with the edge of one wing, a touch of power that would allow them to investigate the contents of hard drives and listen in on conversations from a safer location. Tzadkiel mentally shook his head and wondered what on earth they had stumbled into.

  “Are you going to report to Gabriel?” Sophiel paced back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one wall of Tzadkiel’s penthouse in the city of Savannah, Georgia. They had gone there the moment it had been safe to do so, Sophiel and Brieus following Tzadkiel without comment. Now, behind the protection of Archangel-warded walls, Sophiel was giving vent to her concerns.