No Surrender, No Retreat

by L. J. LaBarthe

  Raphael quirked an eyebrow. “Bloodthirsty.”

  She shrugged as she took another drink. “We’re very well matched, he and I.”

  Picking up the other bottle of water with one hand, Raphael lifted it to his lips and took a drink as well. “How did you two come to be bonded?”

  Agrat smiled. “It was a long time ago.”

  “How long?” Raphael tilted his head curiously.

  “Over two thousand years.” Agrat set the bottle of water aside. “We’ve been together ever since.”

  “That is a long time,” Raphael said.

  “It was the early days of the Son,” Agrat reflected, crossing her legs beneath herself. “I was in a tavern in Palmyra, dancing, as I recall. Shateiel had just been promoted to lieutenant by Gabriel. He came into the tavern with his men, laughing and looking to celebrate. The tavern keeper was very happy to sell large quantities of beer to a group of angels who have bottomless pits for stomachs.”

  Raphael laughed. “I’m sure.”

  “So, they were drinking and Shateiel was being congratulated. The tavern keeper thought he and the others would like some entertainment to go with their beer. I was hiding there as a dancing girl, keeping an eye on a merchant who had been selling children for unsavory purposes.” Agrat sighed. “Anyway, the tavern keeper had his son start to play a drum, and I and three other girls came out and danced.” Her expression became soft, fond.

  “And he was bewitched by your beauty?” Raphael asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Agrat suddenly laughed. “I came out, started dancing, and he got to his feet and walked to me. I remember thinking it was amazing that he was so steady on his legs when he’d drunk so much beer. So he picked me up, kissed me, and said in that sexy telepathic voice of his, ‘Agrat, tonight you are mine.’ I didn’t really argue. I mean, he is gorgeous.”

  Raphael grinned, amused. “Everyone loves the strong, silent type. Although he can be quite talkative when he chooses to be.”

  “He might be the Angel of Silence, but yeah, he can talk a lot if he knows you well enough. Or if he’s drunk enough. A telepathically chatty angel.”

  “And so you stayed with him from that point on?”

  “Not really.” Agrat pulled a face. “We all have our duties. Shateiel was ordered to take care of a demon nest on the other side of the world, and he promised me that we’d see each other when he got back. I didn’t really think anything of it. I mean, we’re angels; if necessary we can go back home to Heaven and see each other. And besides, we’d had one night together. I thought I’d seen the last of him.

  “I was surprised—he tracked me down when he’d finished his assignment. I’d changed my form between that night at the tavern and him finding me. I was in what is now South Korea, and I’d been traveling around Asia. I had fallen in love with the various cultures and histories and the humans there. So I changed from my Israeli dancing girl form to the form I have used ever since—my Korean woman. I believe that it wasn’t that long beforehand that Michael chose his current form, too, after spending a lot of time in China.”

  “We do tend to choose forms from the cultures that we most relate to,” Raphael agreed. “The cultures and societies of humanity that touch us the deepest are the ones we seem to keep the form of the longest.”

  Agrat nodded. “Yeah. So, I was in the countryside, just walking. I wasn’t really going anywhere. I was just wandering around, exploring. And Shateiel appeared in front of me, out of armor and in civilian clothes, and bowed and asked if he could accompany me.” She laughed. “I asked him why. He said I was the most beautiful and fascinating angel he’d ever met. I said he must be drunk. He was a bit offended at that, I think, and insisted he wasn’t. So I said that he could come with me if he wanted, but he’d probably be bored. And he’s been walking with me ever since.”

  Raphael smiled. “He loves you.”

  “It took me a few years to accept it, actually.” Agrat reached for the bottle of water again and took a long drink. “Gabe had to sit down and spell it out for me.”

  Raphael chuckled. “I bet that involved a lot of swearing and colorful language.”

  “You know Gabe.” Agrat laughed. “He was Byzantine Greek at the time. It was the early Byzantine empire, as I recall.”

  “Ah yes, the culture that broke his heart. Well,” Raphael amended, “the culture the woman he loved came from, and her death broke his heart.”

  “Now Michael’s repaired it.” Agrat offered the bottle of water to Raphael. “They’re very cute together, don’t you think? Mr. Formal and Mr. Brat.”

  Raphael guffawed as he took the bottle from her. “That’s a good way to put it. I think Michael secretly likes Gabriel’s teases. He blushes a lot, but he looks much happier these days. Beyond the relief at the war being over, of course; we’re all relieved about that.”

  “True words.” Agrat leaned back on her elbows. “So, how did you and Iss get together?”

  Raphael hummed around his mouthful of water before he swallowed as he took a drink. He put the cap back on the bottle and set it down on the floor.

  “Israfel has always been there,” he mused. “After all, Heaven is music and music is Israfel. There’s always been the song of the souls, and the Land of Light is full of music. That’s Israfel. I remember Heaven being very quiet when it was just Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and I. Of course, when the rest of the Brotherhood were created and our tasks assigned to us, it got a little louder, but it wasn’t until God created the rest of angelkind and gave Israfel music to give us voice that I realized that silence can be golden, but the voice of an angel lifted in song is beautiful beyond imagining.”

  “That’s very poetic,” Agrat said.

  “Thank you.” Raphael smiled a small smile. “Truthfully, I didn’t notice Israfel as an individual until the end of the First World War in the twentieth century.”

  Agrat quirked an eyebrow. “What caught your attention?”

  “His voice.” Raphael’s own was filled with wonder. “I was attending a memorial service for the dead in Paris, at Notre Dame. Israfel stood up after the opening prayers and sang a solo. It was the most haunting, breathtaking thing I’ve ever heard. He managed to fill that song with all the sorrow of the universe and all the joy and hope for the future. His voice made me weep, Agrat. It made everyone in that church weep.”

  “Wow,” Agrat said. “I’ve heard him sing once, I think. As a soloist.”

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Agrat nodded. “I can understand how that would get your attention.”

  Raphael chuckled. “It did, rather. And I realized that the young man with the mussed dark-blond hair who had the voice of an angel was an angel. So after the services, I sought him out and discovered his tendency to babble when he’s nervous.”

  Agrat laughed. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard that. He really abuses the run-on sentence, doesn’t he?”

  “That he does. Mind, it’s not as if our kind have to breathe, so I suppose he could keep a sentence going for days at a time if he chose.” Raphael’s voice was fond. “I asked him to join me for dinner, he accepted, and that was how our relationship began. He simply moved in with me. At the time, I was a little surprised, but in the end, I didn’t really mind. His company was always a balm to me after long days working with the sick and injured. His music soothed my soul.”

  “Is he a good kisser?” Agrat asked, an impish grin on her face.

  “He is a wonderful kisser,” Raphael said. “How about Shateiel?”

  “Mm, oh yeah.” Agrat smirked. “Warriors are all fire and heat and passion. Shay’s no different. He can’t speak out loud, but in my head… oh yeah.” She shivered at the memory.

  “Angel sex has a lot going for it,” Raphael agreed. “Opening up your Grace and your mind to your lover is… remarkably intimate. There’s no way to describe it, really. Humans don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

  “Shifters do it,” Agrat muse
d. “Vampires too. Probably all the monsters, now I think about it. It’s just humans who can’t. I think that’s rather sad. Maybe they’ll evolve to that level of intimacy in the future.”

  “Perhaps they will. Who can say what God’s plan is, save God Himself?” Raphael said equably.

  “I miss feeling Shay,” Agrat said, her voice soft and reflective. “It’s like a great emptiness in my Grace. I feel like half of me has been pulled out of my body, out of my head, out of my soul. It’s aching, Raph.”

  “Agrat.” Raphael moved to her. He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “I wish I could help.”

  “I wish we could get these collars off and get out of here,” Agrat murmured as she clung to him.

  “That too. That would be the best thing.” Raphael sighed. “So here we are, about to sold at auction.”

  “To the highest bidder.” Agrat huffed. “You’ll go for a fortune. The chance to own the Archangel of Healing? I bet people are bidding the most ridiculous sums of money for you.”

  “I don’t think you’ll go cheaply, either,” Raphael said. “Although the bidding war for you will likely be your enemies.”

  Agrat snorted. “Then I’ll break their arms and legs.”

  Raphael laughed. “You’ll have to teach me that move of yours, with your wings.”

  “I can do that. Shay said Gabe taught him. I guess it would be built into Gabe’s makeup, considering what he is. Actually, Michael and Uri probably have it as a built-in feature too.”

  “They’re not cars,” Raphael said, amused.

  “No. Cars don’t argue.” Agrat sighed, snuggling close. “I really, really hate this place.”

  “So do I.” Raphael grew serious. “I hope that the Brotherhood find us soon. Before this reported bidding war ends.”

  “Amen,” Agrat said.

  SEVERAL hours had passed. Raphael and Agrat had fallen silent, Agrat concentrating on not thinking about the loss of her bond with Shateiel. Raphael thought that this was another good reason to not bond, but he had a feeling that Israfel would broach the subject if he were freed.

  No, not if. When. When he was freed. Raphael forced his mind away from such bleak thoughts and concentrated instead on happier ones, thoughts of Israfel, those bright-blue eyes full of love as Israfel looked at him; those full, ripe lips that gave lush and passionate kisses, kisses that always made Raphael want more. That hard, wiry body; the pale skin that covered the strong frame; the dusting of blond hair on Israfel’s chest and the thatch of curls that surrounded Israfel’s cock. The feeling of Israfel’s body against his own, Israfel’s muscles clenching down on Raphael as Raphael fucked him, Israfel’s hands made even paler against the midnight of Raphael’s dark skin as he touched Raphael with ever-growing need and desire.

  Raphael sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Enough of this. This line of thought was not helping. Although, he decided, when he was out of this fresh new Hell, he was finding Israfel, tearing off his clothes, and fucking him for a month. His lips curled in a small smile at that thought. Raphael didn’t think Israfel would object to that at all.

  “It really is amazing how much people will offer to own you, Archangel. Don’t think you’ll lose the collar,” the owner of the voice said. “You get a nice, shiny new one. Your new owner will be the one to decide what powers you can use, not you.”

  Raphael looked up at the voice, his eyes narrowing as he took in the figure of the middle-aged man who had removed the bars between his cell and Agrat’s. And who had used his device to cause Agrat great pain.

  “What do you want?”

  “Not a lot. Just a lot of money, and that’s where selling angels on the black market comes in. The first batch of your kind made me filthy rich several times over. I sent out my people to grab another five and they brought me back you. Imagine my astonishment when they showed me their haul—the Archangel of Healing! The highest bidder has bid ten times what I made out of five angels, and the bidding is still rising.”

  “I thought you were part of an organization.” Raphael decided to try to get more information out of this human. Perhaps it would come in handy later.

  “I am, but it’s my organization, ergo, my profit.” The man moved to the cells and leaned against the bars. “Enjoying my hospitality, are you?”

  “No.”

  The man laughed. “Shame. Well, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Sebastian Bloome. I own a media conglomerate. Your little war with the demons made things interesting for a while, but a man becomes bored making money in one field. He seeks to make money in others. And when a certain gentleman came to me with this proposition, well, what could I say? Other than yes. Being richer than God does have a certain appeal.”

  Raphael said nothing.

  “Hm. The others were much more talkative than you. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” Sebastian regarded Raphael thoughtfully. “Marchosias said you’d be horribly sanctimonious, but I haven’t seen any evidence of that, either.”

  Raphael raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Marchosias. The Archdemon. He is the one behind this?”

  “He’s my business partner, yes. And his partner in business is another Archdemon named Uphir. That’s how I got the lovely little concoction that can knock an angel unconscious.”

  Several things fell together in Raphael’s head. “I see. Are your other partners Ondrass, Melcherisa, Lix Tetrax, or Adramelek, perchance?”

  Sebastian’s expression was bland. “Who?”

  Raphael shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “Ah, I see, you’re looking for information. Well, it won’t hurt, I suppose. The collar will stay on as long as you’re here, and it’s unlikely your new master will ever take it off, so who will you tell? No, my partnership is with Marchosias and Uphir. They have these little demons who do their bidding, sort of… underlings. Staff, I suppose you’d call them. Interns and the like. Does Hell have interns?”

  “You will be able to find out for yourself, I would imagine.” Raphael’s upper lip curled. “When you’re caught—and you will be caught, Mr. Bloome—I think you’ll be taking a short journey downstairs to enjoy the hospitality of the Archdemons and staff of Lucifer Morningstar.”

  “Oh yes, Lucifer.” Sebastian laughed. “How is the Devil? He doesn’t come out of Hell, does he? Stays in his chambers, has his own amusements, and pretty much leaves the demons to do as they wish? Isn’t that why the war was able to occur in the first place?”

  “No.” Raphael’s sneer grew. “And Lucifer is more aware of what goes on here on Earth than you think.”

  “If you say so. You angels do stick together, I suppose. Species loyalty if nothing else. Commendable, considering he’s supposed to have rebelled against God and been banished by your elder. Saint Michael, wasn’t it?”

  Raphael said nothing.

  “This has been a most illuminating little chat,” Sebastian said. “But alas, I must go and see to other matters. Business is business, Raphael. Nothing personal, you understand. Under different circumstances, we might have been friends.”

  “Highly doubtful,” Raphael said.

  “If you think so.” Sebastian straightened. “Enjoy your time here. I think, with the way the bidding is going, you’ll be moving to Japan. Of course, that could change. There’s still several days left in the auction.” Sebastian walked out of the room.

  “I really hope Gabe, Mike, Uri, or Tzad skewer that bastard,” Raphael muttered.

  Agrat raised her head and nodded. She had been listening to every word, pretending to be asleep. “And carve him up into snack treats for Hellhounds.”

  “I wonder what Lucifer does think about this,” Raphael said thoughtfully.

  “I imagine he’s rather peeved.” Agrat shrugged. “Sebastian’s right about one thing. Species loyalty is strong among our kind. Except for the Grigori.”

  “I was going to say the Grigori were the exception. Mind you, Lucifer remembers the beginning. He was made
not long after the first Seraphim were made.” Raphael shook his head. “I guess we’ll never really know, though.”

  “I guess not,” Agrat said, resting back against Raphael’s chest. After a moment, she said, “Though remember what the Archdemons said? Before the war?”

  “Remind me.” Raphael’s brow furrowed.

  “They treated me with great respect because my gift helps both sides of the theological divide.”

  “Oh, I remember now.” Raphael nodded. “You said that many of the deals that are done involve love and sex, and your power is often invoked.”

  “Yes.”

  But a thought had occurred to Raphael, and his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh no,” he breathed. “Oh no, no, no.”

  “Raphael?” Agrat sat up, looking at him in concern. “What is it?”

  “These collars”—Raphael touched that hated thing around his neck—”block us from our power, right? And they block us from feeling the rest of the Host or communicating with our kind.”

  “Yes, and?” Agrat’s expression was growing alarmed.

  “What if, as well as that, they block our power’s influence? For example, what if all the medical advances achieved over the centuries, all the diseases humanity has cured and treated, suddenly refused to be cured or treated anymore? That because our power is limited, the touch of it in everything related to our gift, our power, our essence, starts to fail?”

  Agrat’s eyes were huge. “That… that cannot be. Can it?”

  “I don’t know.” Raphael scrambled to his feet, moving to the bars. “Sebastian,” he called, “I need to talk to you.”

  A robed figure appeared in the doorway. “Sebastian’s gone for the day.”

  Raphael swore. “Tell me—news reports. Are there any news reports about illnesses? Epidemics, things like that?”

  “Huh? Why would you…?” The figure trailed off as another individual stood in the doorway.

  “There have been a few, yes,” the second figure said. It was a woman. “Why?”