“Well,” Raziel said softly, “that puts a different spin on things.”
“It does make that whole not really needing a living demon for the spells a bit more believable,” Gabriel agreed. “Though the idea of demon blood on the black market’s bloody revolting. What do they do, harvest the blood from dead demons after we’ve killed ’em?”
Michael pulled a face. “Most likely. I know you speak in jest, Gabriel, but I fear that is the correct answer.”
“Yuck.” Gabriel shuddered. “Okay, let’s get out of here. I don’t want to upset our North Korean friend any more than we already have. Where in Mongolia, Raz?”
“Twenty miles south of Ulaanbaatar,” Raziel said.
“Right. We’ll meet you there.” Gabriel took Michael’s hand in his own and moved.
10
THE yurt was warm and inviting, and Gabriel sat between Michael and Raziel. The shaman, Khenbish, sat opposite them, nursing a wooden bowl full of mare’s milk. From outside came the sounds of children playing, horses whickering to each other, camels bellowing, and men and women going about their daily chores.
The seminomadic herder’s life here in Mongolia was calming. Gabriel felt more relaxed than he had for years, even with the interludes on the island he shared with Michael. The scent of herbs heavy in the air of the yurt was soothing, and Michael beside him was a solid, beloved presence. In the peace of the shaman’s home, it was easy to forget that they were searching for Raphael.
“Jihu was correct, yes,” said Khenbish, his tremulous voice pulling Gabriel from his reverie. “There are deals done for dried demon blood, and deals done, too, for demon blood that’s been stored with human, for sale to those who want to do spells of the most evil sort. And too, Lyudmila was correct, because there is greed involved, and the transactions are being done on the black market. I cannot see who it is doing this, kidnapping angels and selling them. I see that there is a potion used to knock out an angel, and the angel is kidnapped and collared. The collar blocks their power, and then they are sold to the highest bidder. I cannot see who buys them. My powers don’t reach the new technologies.”
Raziel pressed his palms together and bowed to the elderly man. “You have our thanks, revered one.”
“I do what I must because I can,” Khenbish said. He smiled toothlessly at them. “It is an honor to have three Archangels in my home. Perhaps you will give me something?”
Raziel silently plucked a feather from his wing and handed it to the old man. Khenbish’s eyes grew wide as he took the feather.
“A gift worthy of kings, Lord Raziel. You honor me.”
“You deserve more, revered one. Alas, it is all I have to give.”
Khenbish inclined his head, his expression one of the deepest respect. “Thank you, Lord Raziel. You will find more from Iolana and Sorella,” he went on. “Sorella is familiar with black market traders by nature of where she lives. I hope our combined knowledge and wisdom leads you all to success.”
Raziel stood gracefully, and Gabriel got to his feet with a little less grace, Michael doing the same.
“Thank you, again.” Raziel bowed.
Khenbish nodded and sipped at his bowl of mare’s milk, and the three Archangels left the yurt.
Outside, the chill winds blew in from the mountains and from the Gobi Desert. Raziel pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at Michael and Gabriel. “That was rather helpful.”
“Aye.” Gabriel shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked around the featureless plain. “So do we go to Hawaii or the Congo first?”
“Hawaii,” Michael said. “Then the Congo.”
“Okay.” Gabriel sighed. “I feel like we’re bunny hopping across the world and chasing esoteric hints of weird spells that require gross demon blood to catch angelkind and sell us as a commodity. I don’t like it.”
“Nor do I,” Michael admitted. “Yet it is all we have to go on for now, I fear.”
“Aye.” Gabriel took Michael’s hand in his own. “Shateiel’s still in Purgatory. He’ll be a while. Uri back from Hell?”
Michael shook his head. “Not as yet. He is skilled at searching without being caught or noticed, and so I do not expect him to linger there. Six hours—more or less—and he will return. We will then all reconvene at Tzadkiel’s home and again when Shateiel reports in to you, Gabriel.”
Gabriel nodded. “Good plan,” he agreed. “So, Hawaii, then?”
“Yes. Where does this Iolana live, Raziel?” Michael asked.
“She’s in Honolulu,” Raziel said. “I think we’ll have more luck finding her on one of the beaches than in her flat, though. She’s young, she’s pretty, and she likes swimming and surfing. And most especially flirting with the pretty young men and women of her age group.”
“Well, why don’t we start at her flat, yeah, then move on to the beaches?” Gabriel suggested.
“Okay.” Raziel reached out and touched Michael and Gabriel’s shoulders and moved them.
THE apartment building they emerged in was clean, light, and airy. There were large windows at each end of the hallway, and the doors that lined up on either side were made of a polished dark wood. There were numbers engraved in a Victorian style on silver plates, and the corridor was cool, the discreet air conditioners working efficiently. Raziel led the way down the hallway and stopped at a door with the number 645 on it. There was a folded piece of paper taped beneath the metal plate with the apartment number on it, and Raziel’s name was written on the page.
Raziel tugged the paper off the door and unfolded it so that he could read the contents. He folded it up again and laughed, tucking the paper into his pocket.
“Well?” Michael asked, sounding far less impatient than Gabriel was feeling.
“She’s at the beach,” Raziel said. “She said she’d meet us on Waikiki.”
“One moment, please.” Michael held up a hand. “How do these humans all know we are coming? And how do they know what it is we are seeking?”
“Magic.” Raziel shrugged. “I know, it sounds twee. And yeah, to us, it is a bit twee. But don’t underestimate these magic users, Michael. They might be human and monster, but they’re the most powerful, and in some cases, revered, members of their respective cultures. Some of them, like Jihu or Lyudmila, have very hard lives because of where they live and the enduring economic and political climates, which have nothing to do with their abilities at all. There’s power in names, and because they’re strong and a large part of what they put their energy into is protection, they can hear when people discuss them. Most of the time, it’s not anything unusual. But sometimes, like when Gabe and I were talking in Geneva, the conversation is important enough that they listen in. So that’s how they know.”
“You knew this?” Michael frowned.
“Sure.” Raziel looked confused. “Mysteries and Secrets, remember? It’s their secret and I know it. Now you know it. Don’t disrespect it.”
“I intended no such thing. I merely wished to understand.” Michael sounded a little offended.
“Then I’m glad to lead you toward the path of illumination and understanding,” Raziel said with a florid bow.
“Raz,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “Stop teasing.”
“I can’t. It’s part of who I am. Uriel’s on his way up,” Raziel added. “He’ll meet us at Tzad’s after he’s washed. He says he stinks and he hates smelling like a demon.”
“I see.” Michael nodded. “Very well, then. Let us visit with the rest of these humans and monsters and then go to Tzadkiel’s apartment.”
“Just a sec.” Gabriel put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Just curious, me—how’d you and Sammy go up north?”
“There was nothing to learn.” Michael sighed. “When your call came, we were about to enter Sweden. Samael insisted I go to you and said he could manage on his own. I trust he has had some success.”
“I guess we’ll know when we all meet up in a few hours,” Gabriel said. “Okay, so, beach?
”
“Beach,” Raziel said with a firm nod and moved them.
The beach of Waikiki was one of golden sand and bright-blue sea. Seagulls hovered overhead, calling to each other, and families and surfers moved between sand and water. Raziel led the way down to the water’s edge as a young woman with tanned olive skin, close-cropped blonde-streaked dark hair, and wearing a blue-and-green bikini strode out of the sea, a surfboard beneath one arm.
“Raz!” The woman waved as she set her board down on the sand and gave him a hug.
“How are you, Iolana?” Raziel asked, hugging her back.
“Good. Waves are moderate, but you can’t have everything. So you’d be Gabriel, and you’re Michael, huh? Nice to meet you.” She offered a hand for them to shake.
“We can’t stay long,” Raziel said. “You know why we’re here, yes?”
Iolana nodded, raking her hands through her hair. “Oh yeah. You’ve got missing angels, including an Arch; an old cell up in northern Russia, which looked like it was an angel jail cell; collars that are spelled to block an angel’s power; and intel about magic that uses demon blood to hide an angel from the rest of your kind. Mutterings about black markets and other weird stuff. That about right?”
“That sums it up pretty well, aye,” Gabriel agreed.
“Well, I can’t really add much to your intel, but I can say that there’s a few different spells that would hide an angel. And they could only be done by a powerful witch or wizard, or a demon or an angel. Somewhere that can hold the weight of it, too, like those places that didn’t end up as craters from where you guys fought the bad guys in the war.”
Michael looked sad at that. “I see.” He gave a shallow bow. “Thank you, Miss.”
“Iolana’s fine.” She grinned. “I do recognize the name, after all.”
Raziel sighed. “I guess we should send out patrols to find places that are remote enough and strong enough.”
Gabriel nodded, his focus growing distant as he reached out with his mind to issue the necessary orders to his Seraphim. “On it, Raz.”
“When Gabriel has completed that,” Michael said, “we should go to the Congo.”
“Say hi to Sorella for me,” Iolana said. “I’ll see you later, Archangels.” She picked up her surfboard and jogged up the sand, then stopped when she reached a blonde woman, who smiled and kissed Iolana soundly.
“Her girlfriend,” Raziel explained as Gabriel’s vision cleared and he pulled his power back into himself.
“I see. Well, let’s not ogle, yeah? Let’s head out.”
Raziel nodded and moved them to the Congo.
SORELLA’S home was little more than a lean-to. It was two sheets of corrugated iron and a plastic tarpaulin. Sorella herself was grinding herbs in a cracked, stained bowl, her black hair bound at the nape of her neck with a piece of faded pink ribbon.
“You took your time, Archangel,” Sorella said without looking up. “I’ll have something for you in a moment or two. Did you bring me payment?”
Raziel silently held out a box full of vegetables and fruit. Sorella took it, looked inside, and nodded. She said nothing more, resuming her grinding.
Gabriel watched her, curious about what she was doing but not wanting to interrupt. Sorella paused in her grinding to pour liquid from a mug into her bowl, then resumed her grinding, humming now, words that Gabriel couldn’t quite hear.
Gabriel turned to look at Michael, his eyebrows raised. Michael shrugged, his expression speaking louder than words that he had no idea what Sorella was doing.
“Here,” Sorella said, pouring the contents of her bowl into a bottle. She held it out to Raziel. “You paid me good, Archangel, so I’ve done you good.”
“Thank you. But… Sorella. Forgive me, what is this?” Raziel took the bottle and peered at the contents through the glass.
“It’s a potion that’ll unlock the collars what’s been put on your angels. You’ll need to duplicate it, obviously, but you’re clever enough to work that out.” Sorella grinned at them, her teeth white in the darkness of her face. “Now leave me be, I’ve work to be done.” She made a shooing motion at them with one hand.
Raziel was eyeing the bottle with undisguised fascination. “Hm? Oh right, yes. Of course. Thank you, Sorella. And Iolana says hello, while I remember.”
“Iolana is a sweet girl. And a trade is a trade, Mr. Raziel. Though never let it be said that I, Sorella, trade with yon who’d do this to any living being.” She nodded firmly.
Raziel bowed. “I understand.”
“Thank you, Lady Sorella,” Michael said, also bowing.
Sorella laughed at that. “I’m no lady, Mr. Michael, not even a little bit. But you’re all very welcome, and Mr. Raziel’s brought me good food to eat and to trade, so this has been a profitable day for all of us. Now go, before the army shows up. They’re on their way.”
Before Gabriel could finish expressing his thanks along with Michael and Raziel, Raziel’s hand was on his shoulder and they were moving, teleporting away from the Congo.
“—YOU,” Gabriel said as they emerged in the world. “Damnit, Raz, you cut me off mid-thanks!”
“She didn’t want us to linger, Gabe.” Raziel lit a cigarette. “The army do regular sweeps through that part of the world. I gave her what food I knew she could get away with having without getting into trouble. I’d give her more—hell, I’d give her a farm to own for herself—but she won’t hear a word of it. She is who she is, and she helped us because she chose to. Now, this potion is a bloody great asset, and after everyone’s been briefed, I’ll be working on making more.”
“Okay, fine.” Gabriel shook his head, donning a pair of sunglasses he pulled in with his power. “So I take it we’re in the UAE desert, at the home of Saadi?”
“You’re correct.” Raziel took a long drag of his cigarette and looked around with a puzzled expression. “No one’s home.” He nodded at the small sandstone-brick house with its wooden fence holding in a small herd of goats, a cow, a sheep, and a horse. A large dog lounged by the front door, which was wide open. The windows were also open, and Gabriel could see that Raziel was right.
“I wonder where he is?” Raziel mused.
Gabriel felt the hackles on the back of his neck beginning to rise. “We’re being watched,” he said. He turned around and stared as he took in the seven sand cats staring back at them, sitting beneath a scrubby tree. “And I think we’ve found ’em.”
Raziel and Michael also turned, and Raziel quirked an eyebrow at the sand cats. In Arabic, he introduced Michael and Gabriel, then explained why they were there.
The sand cats remained motionless, their large, bat-like ears twitching. After what seemed an eternity, one of the sand cats stood up, shook himself, and changed. The change of shape was swift—one moment there was a standing sand cat, the next, a standing man in a plain white robe.
“Raziel, Mikhail, Jibril,” he said in a soft, respectful voice. “You are welcome in my home.”
“It ain’t often I hear that name,” Gabriel said with a smile.
“Forgive me, Jibril, would you prefer I call you something else?”
“Nope. Jibril is good. I like it, actually,” Gabriel said. “You’re Saadi, yeah?”
“Yes.” Saadi inclined his head. “I know what you seek. You know by now that we nine are all aware of what you seek and what we each have given you in aid?”
Michael nodded. “We are, yes. In truth, it has been far more than we could have hoped for.”
Saadi smiled. “We are as one in this, Mikhail. What has been done is an abomination—not just to your kind but to any sentient being with free will. I grieve for your losses and I pray to Allah that your Brotherhood will be whole again soon.”
“Thank you.” Michael bowed to Saadi.
“Alas, I cannot give you much more in the way of assistance.” Saadi’s expression was regretful. “My brothers and sisters to the west have given you much already. All I can tell you is that my
son has discovered that the interface used to trade in angel feather charms is part of how the business of trading in angels is done.”
Raziel let out a low whistle of surprise as Gabriel swore.
“Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Raziel said to himself. He shook his head. “Well, we can check it out when we get to Tzad’s. Did your son have any luck in seeing what they’re doing?”
“No. He was blocked when it became apparent that he had not been invited into the space where the transactions were taking place. He thought it strange, and so he called me from his school—he is studying in the city, in Dubai.”
“I see.” Raziel nodded slowly. “Please tell your son that we’re grateful.” He bowed. “And thank you for passing the information on.”
“It is an honor to serve,” Saadi said, bowing with feline grace. “May Allah bless your steps.”
“And may Allah bless your family and home,” Raziel said in ritual farewell.
Gabriel nodded his thanks as Michael echoed Raziel’s words, and then he felt that familiar touch on his shoulder as Raziel moved them.
THE Australian desert was dark, but that stood to reason, considering it was the middle of the night. Gabriel blinked, looking around the seemingly featureless plain they had emerged on, using his Archangel power to see more than humans could ever see.
“I’m guessing Wilara’s over yonder?” Gabriel nodded in the direction of a speck of orange light, a bright beacon of a campfire that beckoned to them.
“Your guess would be right.” Raziel straightened his shoulders. “After we’ve spoken to Wilara, we’ll go to Tzadkiel’s place. Uriel’s back,” he added, “and he’s grumpy. Apparently, he didn’t learn anything downstairs.”
“Unfortunate,” Michael murmured. “I had hoped he would find something.”
“Well, I guess we could go and shake down an Archdemon,” Raziel said, starting to walk toward the fire.
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