“Can you do magic?” Baxter asked.
“A bit. We’ve got limited powers, but we don’t use them unless we absolutely have to. That’s an old habit born from hiding for a very long time.”
“Hiding? From what? Or who? Why? How long?” Angelique rolled her eyes as she spoke. “Goddamn, I ask a lot of questions. You don’t have to answer me, Ahijah.”
“It’s all right, I don’t mind.” And he found that he didn’t. These young humans were not asking out of malice but out of simple curiosity, a desire to get to know him and his brother, and Ahijah found that charming and rather refreshing. So he took a sip of tea and then, after he’d swallowed, said, “It’s a long story, though.”
“Like Jelly said, we’re going to be here a while,” Lily said.
Ahijah chuckled. “Okay, okay. Well, Mama is Ishtahar, and you all know her story, right?”
“Yeah. Your mom is really cool,” Baxter said. “She’s always so kind to everyone, she always has a smile ready, and that’s awesome.”
“Yeah, I like her.” That was an understatement, Ahijah thought. “Anyway, Semjaza decided she was going to be his wife and mother of his children as well as his high priestess, so he married her. She had us. We grew up in Eden, with Archangels as teachers. Hiwa always got along really well with Uncle Mike. He was the first of us to call them shrajaka—that means uncle in the old tongue of Eden. I think Uncle Mike was touched the first time he did it. Anyway, I did the same and so did the other young Nephilim. I used to spend all my time with Samael. We both asked Raziel to teach us book stuff—reading, writing, math, science—and Uriel taught us how to fight. Uncle Gabe taught us tactics and survival, and Uncle Remi taught us about compassion and the quality of mercy.”
“You seem to call some of them uncle and not others,” Lily said.
“Do I? I hadn’t realized.” Ahijah was surprised. “It’s not intentional. I do love them all as my uncles. Samael and Uncle Remi taught us how to play the sport you now know as soccer.” He laughed suddenly. “I remember they used to take us and the other Nephilim out to one of the parks and we’d play in teams made up of Nephilim and Archangels. They were good times.”
“What did your father think of all this?” Angelique asked.
“At first, he didn’t mind. He thought it was good that we were getting an education. Then, later, when God decided that He wasn’t pleased about what the Grigori were doing with human women, Semjaza got angry. He was always violent and he had a hell of a temper. I remember he knocked Hiwa down a flight of stairs, once. Hiwa spent all his time with Uncle Mike after that. That was the beginning of the end. Ten years later, God commanded Uriel to unleash his flood, and Uncle Gabe had to kill all the Nephilim on Earth. Somehow—and I still don’t quite understand how—he and the others managed to get us out with Mama and a few other Nephilim and hide us. The flood that Noah survived covered most of the world. A very small part of the world, up near what’s modern Iceland, remained dry, and we hid in caves there. It was a long, long time before we came out, and once we did, we all scattered. Hiwa and I were grown by then, anyway.”
“That sounds like an intense childhood,” Baxter said.
“Some of it was. I have no love for Semjaza, believe me. What happened to him, his ultimate punishment of ending up in Hell with Lucifer, is the best thing that happened to him. He was never a parent. He was always convinced he was better than everyone, better even than God. He’d make us bow to him all the time and call him ‘your highness.’ He might have been the Grigori Prince, but he was never Father.”
“Damn.” Angelique reached over and touched Ahijah’s arm. “I’m sorry you guys went through that. And that your mom went through that. None of you deserve it.”
“We found happiness after the flood drained up. It wasn’t all bad.” Ahijah shrugged. “I miss Eden sometimes, but I think Mama’s right: we’re not really ready to go back. If we did, we’d never leave it again, and I don’t think that would be a good thing. We need to be in the world, living and experiencing life, not shut away from everything.”
“You’re a good dude, dude,” Baxter said.
“Thank you. You’re a good dude, too,” Ahijah said.
Baxter grinned at him. “I take that as a high compliment.”
“Are you not mated to the Necromancer?” Ahijah asked.
“Liam? Yeah. He’s pretty damn awesome, isn’t he?”
Angelique let out a long, loud sigh. “And now he’ll not shut up. Way to go, Ahi, Baxter can talk forever about Liam.”
Ahijah laughed. “Love should be celebrated. Don’t you love Declan?”
He was astonished at the whoops and jeers that came from the Venatores as Angelique choked on her tea, her cheeks turning a deep red.
“What did I say?” Ahijah asked, looking around the little group.
“Oh, Ahi,” Lily said, laughing, “you’re such a love. Jelly hates talking about feelings. You just blindsided her with the truth—what we all know but what she and Dec will never admit, probably not even to each other.”
Ahijah frowned. “Why not? There’s nothing shameful about love.”
“I don’t do emotions,” Angelique said. She seemed to have regained her composure. “Loving your family, your pack, your friends, that’s fine. Loving Declan… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So what you’re saying is that you feel very privately about this and it’s a thing that’s for you and him alone? I can respect that.”
Angelique nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“So what about you two?” Ahijah turned his head to look at Lily and Riley. “I’ll try not to embarrass Angelique any more than I have already.”
“Appreciate that, Ahi,” she said.
Lily shrugged, looking down at the blanket she sat on. “There’s not a lot to say, not anymore. Danny’s gone. That part of my life is over.”
Ahijah felt a pang in his chest. Her quiet acceptance affected him far more than if she had burst into tears and displayed her emotion. The way she spoke, the raw hurt in her voice, made him feel deeply for her, and he set down his mug and got down onto the blanket beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight.
“He never deserved you,” Ahijah said. “He was not worthy of the shining, bright soul that you are.”
Lily shrugged in his arms. “Maybe.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it. I understand. What about you, Riley?”
Riley smiled. “I’m not in a relationship. I have my family, my pack, and the Venatores. I love them all. But I haven’t met anyone since the war that I think I could be in love with. It doesn’t bother me, though. I believe that everything happens in its own time, when fate decides you’re ready for it, even if you don’t think you are.”
“Wise words. That sounds like something Uncle Raz said to me when I was a teenager, harboring a crush on another Nephilim boy.” Ahijah chuckled. “Ah, youth.”
“So you’re gay?” Angelique asked.
“Yes.” Ahijah nodded. “Although, I have had reason to think about it over the last few weeks. I think it is more that I am mostly gay, but there are a handful of women who are so extraordinary that I would be honored to be involved in a relationship with them. Women in the past,” he added as he saw Angelique open her mouth. He realized she might want names. “So I’m not against the idea. I am, as Riley says, open to what fate decides for me.”
“Oh, okay. That’s fair enough. We’re all bi,” Angelique said. “All the Venatores. I think that’s something Michael looks for, though I don’t know if he’s aware of that. He has this enormous list of things, qualities—I don’t know if he has ‘bisexuality a must’ on there.”
Ahijah laughed. “I don’t think he’s aware of that because angels are notoriously ignorant of human sexuality. They’re genderless. Humans have assigned most of them the male gender, so they take that form. They were, after all, made to protect and serve humanity. I know most of them
have a female shape they use as well, and some angels prefer an angel shape over a male. I think they’re often very confused by humanity’s fixation on sexuality and gender identity. It isn’t an issue for God or in Heaven, and it certainly isn’t an issue for them. All love is love as far as they’re concerned.”
“It’s a damn shame that attitude hasn’t taken hold in humans,” Angelique said. “A lot of sorrow and misery would have been prevented if people just accepted that gender and sexuality is the choice and decision of each individual, not society or religion or anything like that.”
“Agreed.” Ahijah let go of Lily for a moment and pulled his phone out of his pocket again. He was a little surprised to see that two hours had ticked by. “We’re halfway through our waiting time.”
“Already?” Angelique sounded as surprised as Ahijah felt. “That’s good to hear. Who wants more tea?” She got to her feet and moved to the kettle. Everyone replied in the affirmative, and as Ahijah leaned back against the armchair, he smiled down at Lily as she leaned into him.
“I wonder how Hiwa and Piotr are doing,” he mused.
“WHAT THE fuck?” Hiwa stared at the view spread out in front of him, shocked.
The eagle perched on his shoulder let out a soft squawk of agreement.
“What happened here?” Hiwa was amazed and horrified by what he saw. Once upon a time, there had indeed been a gulag. There was evidence that it had been used recently. That evidence was small, however, as the whole place had been burnt. Many of the buildings had been razed to the ground and only a few had remains standing. Hiwa wondered if the snow had put out the fire.
“I will fly over it and see if I can spot any life,” Piotr said.
Hiwa nodded, made mute by what he saw. As Piotr took wing, Hiwa sat down on the snowy ground and wondered if Transom had been alerted to the fact that they were being investigated. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and so he took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst.
Piotr’s voice, when it filled his mind, was thin. Hiwa could hear the distress in his tone, and he closed his eyes as Piotr spoke.
“Everyone is dead. I see bodies. Young, old, in between. There are spent bullet casings. Cans of oil are in piles. There are pieces of burnt paper, and there is a building that is not so destroyed as the others, but it smells strongly of death.”
“How many dead, Piotr?” Hiwa thought to the eagle.
“Too many. I count over a hundred. I feel there are more than that.”
“Come back to me and we’ll figure out what to do.”
Piotr didn’t reply, but as Hiwa opened his eyes, he saw the eagle soaring back to him. As the bird joined him, hovering beside him before settling daintily on the snow, Hiwa could see the sorrow in the eagle’s bright eyes.
“Why don’t you stay in the sky and keep a watch for anyone while I go down there and poke through the buildings that are still standing? I might find something, but I don’t want to be surprised while I’m looking.”
Piotr nodded. “What of the dead, Hiwa?”
Hiwa took a deep breath. “I think, once I’ve finished, I’ll call Uncle Mike. He can help us bury them.”
“Uncle Mike? You speak of Lord Michael, chief of the Archangels?”
“Yeah.” Hiwa rubbed his face with both hands. He was suddenly very glad that Ahijah was back in Kadykchan with the Venatores. “God above and Lucifer below… this wasn’t necessary. This slaughter!”
“You must be careful, Hiwa. Some of the dead are… distressing.”
“Children?” Hiwa was grim. The eagle nodded and he sighed heavily. “I am very glad my brother isn’t here.”
“I am glad my beloved Lyudmila is not here.” Piotr looked away. “Let us do this so that we may give these poor folk as decent a burial as we can. They deserve some kindness in death.”
“Amen to that, my friend.” Hiwa got to his feet. “You’ll be in the sky?”
Piotr nodded again, unfurling his wings and giving them a little shake. Hiwa started down the hill toward the gulag, and as he went, he heard the sad and piercing cry of the eagle. He looked up and saw that Piotr was circling overhead, his flight a lazy spiral above the gulag, high enough that his sharp eyes would spot any dangers before Hiwa himself would.
Hiwa was furious. He realized his rage was growing as soon as he reached even ground and entered the remains of the gulag. Everything had been destroyed, he saw, vehicles as well as buildings. Some of the dead wore the uniforms of prison guards. Gritting his teeth and averting his eyes from some of the more shocking bodies, Hiwa grimly pressed on, making his way toward the building that Piotr had mentioned.
He was surprised when he reached it, for it was still mostly intact. One wall was charred by fire, but the rest of the structure was unscathed. Hiwa walked around it, thinking hard, looking for any signs of life. When he returned to the front door, he shrugged, drew his gun and took a deep breath. It was now or never, he thought. He squashed down on his anger—he wanted to be alert and aware for anything, and his fury would distract him.
Kicking in the door, Hiwa moved with the swift precision of one who is accustomed to entering buildings uninvited. A quick look around revealed he was alone, but he didn’t holster his gun. Walking through the building, Hiwa saw at once that there had been three stories to it, but they had been destroyed. He realized that while the outside was relatively intact, that wasn’t the case with the interior.
He pressed on, looking into each room that he could, and in a room at the rear, a small room that contained the remains of what looked like gray steel filing cabinets, he found two computers. They had been smashed and the monitors destroyed, but the casings were intact. Hiwa frowned as he regarded them. Surely Transom would not be so foolish as to leave something behind that might have information on it.
Hiwa sheathed his weapon and pulled out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket. He selected the screwdriver tool and quickly opened the cases of the computers. He hadn’t really expected to find anything useful, so he was astonished when he saw the hard drive components were whole and appeared in good condition. It took him only a few moments to remove them and tuck them into the deep inner pockets of his fur-lined coat.
“That will have to do,” he muttered. He closed his knife up and pocketed it, then fastened up his coat. He drew his gun once more and made his way out of the building.
“There is nothing left and no one alive for miles,” Piotr reported. “The nearest life is in Kadykchan or in the port town of Magadan.”
“I’ll call Uncle Mike,” Hiwa said. He leaned back against the building he’d just exited and closed his eyes, concentrating hard. “Uncle Mike, it’s me, Hiwa. Can you hear me?”
“Hiwa? Are you all right? What has happened?” Michael’s voice in his mind was such a relief that Hiwa felt his knees go weak.
“Can you come to where I am? Take the coordinates from my mind.”
“Yes. I will be there in a moment. Should I bring others?”
Hiwa thought about that. “You should probably bring Uncle Gabe and Uncle Sammy. Especially Uncle Sammy.”
“That does not bode well, young man.”
“Believe me, Uncle Mike, it’s taking everything I am not to burst into tears right now.”
“We will be there straight away.” Michael’s voice left Hiwa’s mind, and Hiwa rubbed his face with his free hand, blinking his eyes rapidly. He would not weep. Not here. Not yet, anyway. The dead here would be avenged, he thought, sending his silent vow to the corpses littering the gulag. The perpetrators of this crime would not get away with it.
Hiwa heard the rustle of wings in the stillness of the gulag and looked toward what had been the main square. Michael, Gabriel, and Samael were there, furling back their wings, and above them, Piotr gave voice to a loud, piercing whistle of greeting. Hiwa watched as the Archangels looked up and waved.
“Thank you for coming so fast,” Hiwa said as he made his way over to join them.
“It
ain’t ever a problem,” Gabriel said. He gave Hiwa a small, understanding smile, and Hiwa smiled back.
“I can see why you called us,” Michael said in a soft voice, sadness etched into the features of his face. “This is a terrible place.”
“I just… we want to bury them, Piotr and me.” Hiwa ran a hand through his hair and realized he was still holding his gun. He put it away and then he shrugged. “They died a horrible death. I don’t need magic to tell me that. These poor bastards were all murdered.”
“Language. And I can see this.” Michael turned to fix Hiwa with one of those intent gazes that Hiwa knew so well. “Are you all right?”
Hiwa hesitated. Then he shrugged again. “No.”
Michael held out his arms, and Hiwa ran to him, unashamed as he buried his face in the Archangel’s chest and wept. For a moment, he was ten years old again and had climbed out of his bedroom window after a beating from his father. As a child, he’d rushed straight to Michael and Michael had held him and comforted him. Just as Michael was now. Hiwa would never stop adoring Michael; he was everything Semjaza had never been: father, uncle, friend, teacher.
“My dear child,” Michael said softly, “it is all right to weep for the dead.”
“I want to avenge them, Uncle.”
“As do we all. And so we will. Come now, you and I will go aside as Gabriel and Samael prepare a grave for them, and then we will consign their bodies to the Earth together.”
Hiwa nodded, sniffling a little as he pulled back from Michael’s embrace. “Okay.”
“I will lead their souls to Paradise,” Samael said in his deep, rich voice. There was a great compassion in his eyes, Hiwa saw. “I will not allow their pain to continue into the afterlife.”
“Thank you, Uncle Sammy.”
“And I’ll be sure to cut some entrails out of some people,” Gabriel said.
Hiwa smiled at that. “Thanks, Uncle Gabe.”
“Come,” Michael said. He laid one arm across Hiwa’s shoulders. “Let us go apart. Is that Piotr, the consort of Queen Lyudmila, above us?”
A Candle in the Sun Page 6