No Surrender, No Retreat

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “And then Lyudmila heard you both in Geneva, through the power of the name, and realized that what the clans had stumbled on was something connected to the disappearance of Raphael. As you were coming here anyway, there was no need to call you, and so here we are.”

  “We will give you the coordinates of the cells,” Lyudmila said. “But I fear that this bodes ill and reinforces Brother Frank’s suggestion to you that the kidnapping of Lord Raphael and other angels—and yes, we know there are others—is fueled by greed.” She picked up a piece of paper and a pen from the coffeetable and wrote down the coordinates. She held the paper out to Gabriel, and he took it from her with a nod of thanks, glanced briefly at it, and then pocketed it.

  “How do you come to that conclusion?” Raziel asked.

  “Consider.” Lyudmila nodded at the feather. “A cell, with collars and an angel’s feather. A cell designed to contain an angel. No blood was scented, no death. Only dust; it had been abandoned for a while. So an angel had been kept there and then moved. But was this angel truly moved? Or was this angel sold?”

  “Sold for what?” Gabriel asked.

  Lyudmila sighed. “Do you have any idea how much prestige it would give someone to own an angel? Someone in a position of power in some underworld enterprise, owning an angel, controlling that angel, using it for their own ends….”

  Gabriel felt the blood drain from his cheeks as he paled with anger. “Angel slaves?”

  “Da, it is my thought.”

  Gabriel looked at Raziel. “We need to get Michael and check this place out.”

  Raziel was turning the feather slowly between his fingers. “Yes, we do.”

  “Whose feather is it?” Gabriel asked.

  Raziel looked at him. “Lobkir. The guard of the Gates of the West Wind.”

  Gabriel got to his feet and bowed to Lyudmila and Piotr. “Thank you, Your Majesty, Your Highness. This is our best lead so far.”

  Lyudmila inclined her head. “If anything else comes to light, I shall call you, Lord Gabriel.”

  Raziel also stood up. “Thank you both.” He turned to Gabriel. “Should we go straight there?”

  “No.” Gabriel shook his head. “Let’s go to Moscow and have Michael meet up with us. Then we’ll go check out this place near Archangelsk.”

  “Right.” Raziel inclined his head to Lyudmila and Piotr. “Thank you,” he said by way of farewell, and was gone.

  Gabriel inclined his head as well and followed, sending his thoughts out to Michael, asking his lover to meet them in Moscow.

  ISRAFEL sat on Tzadkiel’s white leather sofa with his head in his hands. Despite Shateiel’s reassurances, he hadn’t wanted to leave Tzadkiel’s apartment. The Archangel’s home was the center of intelligence, and Israfel knew that whatever happened, Tzadkiel and his lieutenants would be among the first to know about it. He didn’t want to be in Agrat and Shateiel’s home, alone, fretting and wondering, left out of things.

  He was moping, he knew he was. Tabbris had spoken to him, saying that he’d had no luck in Greece and Macedonia and was moving into Turkey. That Tabbris had been serious had made Israfel even more worried. He didn’t know what to do or where to go, and he missed Raphael more than he could say.

  “Are you all right, Iss?”

  Israfel raised his head and looked at Sophiel as she sat beside him. “No, not really.”

  She slipped an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into her. “Tzadkiel said you could stay here as long as you want,” Sophiel said. “He understands that you’d want to be here to hear how things go.”

  Israfel relaxed at her words. “Thank you,” he said in a small voice.

  “Are you tired? Hungry? Thirsty?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just depressed, and I feel useless because I can’t do anything and I can’t feel Raph.” Israfel closed his eyes after blinking back tears. “He’s the only one who doesn’t treat me like an idiot. And he loves me. I love him too. And he’s not here. I should have been with him. I should have gone to Crete with him. I should have been there to help him when whatever happened, happened.”

  “You cannot blame yourself,” Sophiel said. “Although I know this is natural, it does not make it right. What happened was something no one could have foreseen. If you were with him, you, too, would most likely be missing, and we would be even worse off in trying to find out what happened.”

  Israfel chewed his lower lip and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Sophiel’s arm tightened around him, and he rested his cheek against her shoulder. “Iss, can I ask, are you and Raphael bonded?”

  Israfel shook his head. “Nope. Never saw the point of it, actually. I mean, I know he loves me. He knows I love him. We’re together. Why do we need rituals and magic to reinforce what we already know?”

  Sophiel smiled. “Wise words.”

  Israfel barked a laugh at that. “I’ve never had the word ‘wise’ applied to me before.”

  “Well, I think you’re wise, so there.” Sophiel ruffled his hair.

  Israfel smiled at her. Then he sighed and said, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to hang around?”

  “Yes,” said Sophiel. “Absolutely.”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay, Israfel.” Tzadkiel joined them, sitting down in an armchair.

  Israfel looked at him. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. I mean, I know Shateiel said it would be okay to stay at his and Agrat’s place, but it’s too far away. I want to be here when you hear something.”

  Tzadkiel nodded. “I quite understand. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  Israfel flashed Tzadkiel a brief smile. With a soft sigh, Israfel gazed toward the window, his expression pensive. “I miss him,” he said.

  Sophiel hugged him. “We’ll get Raphael back, Iss.”

  “Yeah.” Israfel tried to sound more positive than he felt.

  GABRIEL was relieved to see Michael waiting for him and Raziel in Red Square. Michael sat on a bench, his expression neutral, but he got to his feet as soon as he saw Gabriel, moving to him.

  Gabriel was on the verge of hugging Michael when he remembered Michael’s aversion to public displays of affection, so he limited himself to a warm smile. “I’m glad to see you, Mishka.”

  Michael smiled back. “I am glad to see you as well.” He brushed his hand over Gabriel’s, and Gabriel’s smile grew.

  “I hate to be a downer,” Raziel interrupted, “but we should head to Archangelsk. Ironic, considering.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, three Archangels looking for one Archangel and a group of other angels in a town called Archangel.” Raziel shrugged, looking over the square. “Ironic nomenclature.”

  “As you say.” Michael looked at Gabriel. “Have you eaten?”

  “Aye, dear, we had food and drink, and we’re fine.” Gabriel laughed. “Seriously, I’m good. Better for seeing you, though.”

  Michael blushed faintly. “Gabriel.”

  “After Archangelsk,” Raziel said, “we should continue with our plan to talk to the humans with abilities. They’ve been very helpful so far. And Michael, we could use you in North Korea.”

  Michael nodded. “Of course, anything that I can do.”

  They walked toward an alleyway, and when they were out of sight of Red Square, the three Archangels moved, teleporting to Archangelsk. Gabriel pulled in his cloak again when they emerged on the outskirts of town, snow swirling around them.

  “Brr,” he said. And then, “Michael, you need a cloak or a coat.”

  “I am fine,” Michael said.

  “No, no, no.” Gabriel pulled in another cloak with his power and draped it around Michael’s shoulders. “Now you’re fine.”

  “Gabriel….”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Michael shook his head, drawing the cloak around him.

  “It’s like living in a soap opera,” Raziel said. “You two are like an old married couple.”

&n
bsp; “Refrain from commenting,” Michael scolded, and Raziel rolled his eyes.

  “Whatever. Come on, the location of this cave isn’t far away.” He started walking.

  “Did you have any luck?” Gabriel asked as he and Michael followed Raziel.

  “No. I fear this is not something that will be easy for us to fix.”

  Gabriel nodded his agreement. “Aye. We were lucky, though, with what Lyudmila told us.”

  “Yes. What is she like?”

  “Lyudmila?” Gabriel hummed. “She’s pretty no-nonsense. She makes a mean cup of coffee too. She’s good at running the Eastern Bloc shifters, so there’s no worries there. Her consort’s pretty grumpy, but he’s good at his job and he adores her. I don’t think we’ll need to worry about her abilities.”

  “I am glad.” Michael hesitated a moment before continuing. “I had a meeting with the vampires in Norway.”

  “Oh, aye?”

  “Yes. They are… disquieted. There are none left who have sufficient magical ability to do what has been done to Raphael and the others of our kind, but they are concerned that they might be implicated somehow.”

  “How?” Gabriel frowned. “It’s not as if they’re shouting from the top of the mountains that they’re the ones responsible for this, are they?”

  “No, they are not. They are paranoid, Gabriel. They are a fearful race. They do not breed as the shifters do. They create, and so if any of their particularly strong magic users are killed, there is no one to replace them. Unless they turn a human who is a skilled witch, wizard, or seer into a vampire, and they are very careful about such things these days. They get their blood requirements from blood banks and cattle, and they are wary of humans in general.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day that the vampires would be the species of monster that’d be preparing to go into hiding,” Gabriel mused.

  “To everything there is a season,” Michael said.

  “And a purpose under the Heavens?”

  “As you say.” Michael smiled, and Gabriel took Michael’s hand in his, their fingers twining together. There was no one else around, and the snow was beginning to fall harder, muffling the sound of their footfalls as they followed Raziel deeper into the never-ending whiteness that was northern Russia.

  “I missed you,” Michael said in an undertone as they walked. “Which seems foolish as we were only apart for a day.”

  “Then I’m foolish too, ’cause I missed you too.” Gabriel gave Michael’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  Michael leaned into him as they walked, and Gabriel twisted to give Michael a kiss on his cheek. “You’ll need to go somewhere very warm after this,” he said.

  “Perhaps. I can concern myself with my own well-being after we have found Raphael and the others.” Michael smiled at Gabriel once more. “Your concern is appreciated, however.”

  “Here!” Raziel called, and Gabriel tugged Michael with him toward the youngest Archangel.

  Raziel was standing at the edge of a hole. Instead of looking down, he was looking across—at three snarling Arctic wolves.

  “Whoa there,” Gabriel said, stopping in his tracks. He held his hands up. “Lyudmila gave us the coordinates. We’re Archangels—I’m Gabriel, this is Raziel, and this is Michael. We’re just going to have a look and then we’ll leave you to it, yeah?”

  The wolves glared at him, their golden eyes unblinking. Finally, the largest one gave a wolfy sort of huff.

  “If her majesty has sent you, then you will be able to answer this question. How does she brew her favorite coffee?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Good question.” He remembered the coffee they had drunk in Lyudmila’s tiny apartment. “It’s made from coffee beans, roughly ground and prepared in an antique samovar that belonged to her father, the king.”

  The wolf nodded. “We will return when you leave, Saint Gabriel.” He turned and trotted into the snow, the other two wolves loping behind him.

  “I didn’t even think about the guards she’d left,” Raziel said, pulling a face.

  “I forgot too,” Gabriel admitted. “Okay, well, let’s go take a look.”

  Raziel raised his left hand and created an orb of glowing light. Then he jumped down into the hole, holding his orb aloft so that Gabriel and Michael could see.

  The three Archangels looked around the cave, taking in the cells, the bars reaching from ceiling to floor and almost shimmering with the magic that surrounded them. The collars lay on the floors of the cells, untouched and covered with a thin film of dust.

  Raziel sniffed the air. “This place hasn’t been used for several months,” he said. “I think whoever was here left in a hurry.”

  “I wonder why,” Gabriel said in a dry tone of voice.

  “This is an evil place,” Michael observed, walking around the cave. His sword was in his hand, and Gabriel pulled his own sword out of the ether. “There is a presence… I cannot quite identify it.”

  “More magic hiding it, maybe?” Raziel asked.

  “Perhaps.” Michael moved deeper into the cave. “There are signs that whoever the jailers were, they managed to live quite well.”

  Gabriel followed him and peered over Michael’s shoulder into the chamber his lover was looking at. It was carpeted and there were comfortable chairs, two beds, and a low table with a television on it. There was another table that held a pizza box and some burger wrappers, and a glass ashtray filled to overflowing with cigarette butts.

  Raziel pushed past them and went into the chamber. He picked up the ashtray carefully and poured its contents into a small plastic bag he pulled from his pocket. Sealing the bag, he put the ashtray down and pocketed the bag. “I can run these through my labs upstairs in Heaven,” he explained. “We might get a hit from human databases on the DNA if the smokers have committed a crime and been caught by human law enforcement.”

  “Good.” Michael nodded in approval.

  “There’s nothing else to see,” Gabriel said. “We should go.”

  “Agreed,” Raziel said. “So, North Korea?”

  “Aye.” Gabriel looked at Michael. “Are you coming with us, solnyshko?” Here in the frozen north of Russia, the Russian endearment seemed very appropriate.

  “If you would like,” Michael said.

  “You better,” Raziel said. “My Korean’s pretty rusty, and Jihu will talk easier with you than with us. We look a bit too Western European—we’ll make him nervous.”

  “As you say, then.” Michael straightened. “Let us go.”

  “Right.” Raziel touched their shoulders and moved them.

  “WHERE in North Korea are we?” Michael looked around.

  Gabriel looked up at the sky, trying to guess from the position of the sun.

  “We’re not far from the town of Songnim, southwest of Pyongyang,” Raziel said. “Jihu lives in a farm collective.”

  “Is it guarded by armed guards?” Michael asked.

  “No.” Raziel shook his head.

  Michael nodded and gestured toward the road with its cracks and potholes. “Then lead on.”

  Raziel saluted—a sloppy, lazy salute, Gabriel noted—walked to the shoulder of the road, and started southward.

  “It probably won’t be very busy,” Raziel said over his shoulder as they walked. “But then I could be wrong too, and the military might notice us from one of their watchtowers or something.”

  “Then we should be doubly careful,” Michael said. “Stay alert.”

  Gabriel pushed his cloak back. It was cold here in North Korea, but at least it wasn’t the bitter snow that permeated northern Russia. Here, there was an icy wind blowing down from the mountains and a cold breeze coming in from the sea, rustling the leaves on the trees and the long grass that grew beyond the shoulder of the road. Weeds grew in profusion in the potholes, and there were no lines painted on the tarmac of the badly maintained road to indicate any sort of traffic laws.

  “It’s been a very long time since I were here,” he mused. “
Last time I were in North Korea, it weren’t North Korea at all. It were all part of the Three Kingdoms.”

  “That was a difficult time, as I recall,” Michael said.

  “Aye, it weren’t crash hot,” Gabriel agreed. “When were you here last, Raz?”

  “Last year, actually.” Raziel turned from the road to follow a narrow track in the dirt and grass. “I like to keep in touch with Jihu and the others on that list of mine.”

  “I thought you said you make him nervous,” Gabriel said.

  “No, I said we would make him nervous. More than one Western-looking individual at a time makes him nervous. He never knows who’s watching or listening. This isn’t a regime that promotes a sense of safety or security in one’s privacy.”

  “Good point.” Gabriel followed Raziel along the track.

  After an hour of walking, they reached the collective farm. Gabriel felt the moment that Raziel used his power to shield himself from human eyes, and did the same. It wouldn’t do to be dodging bullets from alarmed militia, after all. He felt Michael follow suit, and then Raziel was knocking softly on the back door of a rickety mud-and-wattle shack.

  The door opened a crack and a string of Korean, said in a voice full of fear, reached Gabriel’s ears. Raziel spoke in a low voice, calming, reassuring, handing the owner of the voice a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. Gabriel surmised that it contained cigarettes, socks, and toothpaste. There was a moment of silence, then a string of invective, and a hand shoved a piece of paper at Raziel, then shut the door.

  Raziel blinked, even as Michael shook his head sadly. “There is a great deal of fear here,” he said. “Come, Raziel, tell us what the note reads. Let us not linger. Our presence is obviously distressing to Jihu and his family.” The last was said in Korean, and Raziel nodded, even as he held the scrap of paper out for Gabriel and Michael to read.

  The note was short and to the point. It read, Talk to the Mongolian. Dried demon blood popular on black market.