A Candle in the Sun

by L. J. LaBarthe

  Ahijah stared at Hiwa, his eyes wide. Hiwa had spoken with low-voiced passion, his hands had clenched into fists at his sides, and his eyes had narrowed, darkening with his anger. A sudden pang of emotion filled Ahijah’s heart as he stared at his brother. If things had been different, Hiwa would have been an incredible force for good and for the protection and unification of the Nephilim. His strength of personality and his compassion were limitless, Ahijah thought, and even though Hiwa’s life was not exactly based on following the law, his heart was in the right place.

  “You are such a complicated person,” Ahijah said thoughtfully. “You pretend to be this hardcore Russian Mafioso, all badass as the kids say, and you’re covered in Russian prison tattoos—most of which I bet you got because you liked the designs, not because you just wanted to rule the Russian underground or something. That bit was something of a nice side effect to you, wasn’t it? And I don’t even need to bring up how much you care, how much compassion you have for life—all life.”

  Hiwa shrugged. He grinned, a toothy expression that made him look a little wild, in Ahijah’s opinion, and it also made him think that Hiwa was on the verge of attacking him with his teeth.

  “Don’t tell anyone. Anyway, it’s not that complicated. You summed it up quite well.”

  Ahijah rolled his eyes. “You are such a pain.”

  Hiwa moved closer to him and slung an arm around Ahijah’s shoulders. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

  “I’m so blessed,” Ahijah drawled, but he meant every word. He did feel blessed and he loved Hiwa fiercely. All of him, not just the less frightening parts of his personality.

  “Yep, you really are.” Hiwa reached up to ruffle Ahijah’s hair. “So how long are we hanging around?”

  “Until the Archangels head off. Let’s go with them back to Ondrass’s place.”

  “Okay. Are we getting a lift with Uncle Remi?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Ahijah smiled slightly. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to indulge your fantasies of retribution on Transom. He’s just as angry as you are.”

  “Good. Someone in this family needs to be.” Hiwa laughed. “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ahijah chuckled. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  “I don’t believe that, either.”

  Their conversation turned to lighter topics after that.

  “IT’S A bit anticlimactic,” Uriel grumbled.

  Raziel nodded. “I know. I was astonished when we got here and saw Interpol and the rest had already started their raid.”

  Uriel snorted. “So am I. That Arthur kid is pretty clever.”

  “What’s this? An actual compliment toward Naamah’s offspring? I may faint,” Raziel teased.

  “Yeah, well, okay.” Uriel took a deep breath. “This is between you and me, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, and plunged on, even as Raziel moved a little closer to his lover.

  “I felt sorry for him and his sister. After what Agrat told us about them, when we were in Purgatory, and seeing how they were? I figured that they couldn’t be all bad, and then Tzad read their souls and vouched for them too, so okay, they weren’t the enemy. And then Agrat told us about how they were with the souls in Purgatory, how many friends they had there, how the residents cared about them and looked after them. Monsters don’t do that without reason. There’s obviously something fucking special about those two, and to hide how they really felt from Naamah, that takes some doing. I don’t agree with what they did during that whole Holy Grail shitstorm, but fuck me, Razzy, those kids have been through a lot. They deserve some peace.”

  Raziel was amazed. He stopped walking and stared at Uriel, reaching out with his Grace for Uriel’s own. The responding touch was instantaneous; Uriel’s Grace reflected fire, heat, passion, and it wound around Raziel’s own Grace and seemed to cling to him. Raziel reached up with one hand and touched Uriel’s cheek, even as he let his power join his Grace in comforting Uriel’s. “You’re having a harder time with this than I thought, huh?”

  “If by ‘this’ you mean Transom and Naamah? Then yeah.” Uriel looped his arms around Raziel’s neck and leaned into him, resting his forehead against Raziel’s. In a very soft voice, he added, “I saw what the kids experienced in Yaak. When they were telling us, when they got out. Sweet Cherubim! I’ve seen some fucked up things, but that… that really took the fucking cake.”

  Raziel slid his arms around Uriel’s waist and hugged him tight. “I know. Are you okay?”

  “I’m… processing.” Uriel sighed. Raziel felt him pull his Grace back into himself and so he did the same. “I’m tired, Raz. Gabe’s right. We need a fucking break. We’ve been on the go since the end of the first decade of this century and we’ve had a few months here and there to rest. That’s not enough. Not with everything we’ve had to deal with. Megalomaniacs, a damn long war, the damages after that war, the kidnapping of our own kind, Semjaza and his bullshit, the Holy Grail, and now this. I’m very, very tired. This peace accord of Lucifer’s and God’s, it better damn well hold.”

  Raziel hummed and rubbed Uriel’s back. “When this is over, and while the human courts are dealing with things, we’ll go to Queensland and just rest, okay? I may be moving between there and The Hague during the trials, but I won’t be away from you for long.”

  Uriel nodded. “Okay. Oh, I promised Hiwa and Ahijah I’d take them to talk to the Transom leaders before all that happened.”

  “When did you do that?” Raziel asked.

  “Before. Like, ten minutes ago.”

  “Oh. Okay. I didn’t notice.”

  “You were a bit preoccupied,” Uriel said. “You were working out how to get that potion down the throats of witches who wouldn’t want it.”

  Raziel screwed his face up, then sighed. “Yeah, well. I think with some of them it will be through force. Others will accept the potion and take it voluntarily.”

  “What about those ones who were mouthing off at Mike’s place back in Salem?”

  “Yes, those will be the ones who will have to be forced.” Raziel shook his head. “It is the part of the job that I least enjoy.”

  “I’ll hold ’em for you,” Uriel offered.

  Raziel chuckled. “All right, it’s a deal.” He pulled back and gazed up into Uriel’s blue eyes. They were darker, he realized, tired and full of regret. He touched Uriel’s cheek once more. “Let’s get this done, shall we? Sooner we do it, the sooner that Interpol can take them away.”

  Uriel nodded. “Okay.”

  Hand in hand, they made their way toward the cluster of twelve humans being guarded by a small group of Seraphim. Ondrass and Adramelek were already there, and they were smirking. Raziel sighed for the second time in as many minutes.

  “Have you done anything?” he demanded of the two Archdemons.

  “Not at all,” Adramelek said.

  “Not to them, anyway,” Ondrass said.

  “We just… spoke to each other,” Adramelek said, his expression one of innocence that Raziel was certain was entirely feigned.

  “Loud enough for them to hear.” Ondrass’s smirk deepened. “I do not think you will find any problems in administering your potions, Raziel.”

  Raziel felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What did you two malcontents say?”

  “I beg your pardon, but we are not malcontents,” Ondrass said. He looked quite offended. “I will have you know, Raziel, that we are very content and despite our desire to be the contrary, we have been extremely restrained as regards these individuals.”

  Raziel narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m crushed,” Ondrass said, clutching his chest with one hand. “I am covered utterly with despair, and I feel as if I may faint from the shock of it all.”

  “Spare me,” Raziel said.

  “You two had fun, huh?” Uriel asked.

  Adramelek shrugged. “Ondrass and I had a nice conversation.”

  U
riel snickered. Raziel looked at him, surprised. “What?” Uriel asked him. “I can imagine what they were talking about and if it put the fear of, well, everything into ’em, then good.”

  “Why thank you, Uriel,” Adramelek said. “I’m surprised, though, that this is your attitude.”

  “Adramelek, at the moment, I’m thinking of you and your guild as being like a bunch of tricksters, like a little group of very powerful naughty teenagers. I like that thought, so let me hang on to it, as delusional as I know it is, for a while.”

  Ondrass laughed. “Very well, Uriel. Far be it from us to burst your bubble.”

  “Thanks,” Uriel drawled. “Oh hey, did anyone hear from Max and Minnie?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. They’re sending copies of all the information they have to their own law enforcement officers as well as to Interpol,” Adramelek said. “Samael told us.”

  “This is all being tied up rather neatly,” Uriel said. “Good.”

  “At the end of this, I am hoping to spend six lovely weeks in Hong Kong,” Ondrass said. “Basking.”

  “In what, your own smugness?” Uriel demanded.

  “And we’re back to normal levels of snark,” Ondrass said.

  “Come on Uri,” Raziel said. “Let’s go deal with these witches.”

  “Fine, okay. Lead on.”

  The witches glared at him as he walked up to them, but Raziel didn’t really care what they thought about him. Once he’d administered the potion to eradicate their synthetic magic and all traces to how it was created in the first place, Raziel was prepared to wash his hands of them and deliver them up to Interpol. He eyed the little group with distaste, but before he could say anything, one of them, a young woman in her early twenties with waist-length blonde hair and bright green eyes, stepped forward.

  “You’re Raziel, right?”

  “I am,” he said, eyeing her curiously.

  “Good. You’ve got some sort of potion that can get rid of this magic, we heard. Most of us want it and won’t fight you on it. This magic is… it’s a terrible thing. We all lost people we loved through our own greed and our own desires for power. And the magic itself, well, it’s not real, it’s not organic,”—from behind her, someone muttered, “fucking organics, what bullshit,” but she plunged on—“it’s not from the Earth or our own DNA, it feels like this plastic thing inside us. We don’t have much control over it, not really. Part of it reports to Transom’s people. So please, get rid of it.”

  Raziel blinked a few times, blindsided by her words. Then he shook his head. “Well,” he said to Uriel, “that was easier than I hoped.”

  “Will you help us?” The blonde woman was wringing her hands together. “We know you did it for Jonathon, we heard someone talking about it outside. That made Mr. Edwards so angry—he lost the ability to control one of us and to find out what was happening.”

  “Wait—so this synthetic magic doesn’t just give you the ability to do spell work, it also serves as a way for Transom to control you and make you do things against your will?” Raziel asked.

  She nodded miserably.

  “Get Tzad,” Raziel said to Uriel. “He’ll need to verify this.”

  “Okay,” Uriel said.

  Raziel could feel his lover calling out with his mind as he turned back to the little knot of witches. “Who wants to be free of this magic?”

  Ten of them raised their hands immediately. Raziel nodded. “Right. Step forward, please, one at a time. I’ll give you a vial of liquid, and you drink it all. You will, I’m afraid, feel terrible for around twenty-four hours as your systems are purged, but we have the world’s finest physician present, so he’ll be able to attend to you. There will be plenty of water for you to drink as well, and I advise you to do so, because you need to keep yourselves hydrated.”

  The ten witches had formed a line and Raziel started handing out the vials of the potion, watching them as they all drank it down, pulling comical faces of disgust at the taste. They had all finished and were seated on the ground, some of them with their heads between their knees while others leaned into each other, when Tzadkiel arrived.

  “Uri filled me in,” Tzad said before Raziel could open his mouth. “I’ll scan them and report back. What about those two?” He nodded in the direction of the two witches who stood glowering at them, their arms crossed over their chests.

  “They are the ones who are going to fight me,” Raziel said, “so they’re the ones that Uriel’s going to have to hold down.”

  “Damn right I am,” Uriel growled. “We don’t want any more bullshit out of this. No leftover surprises from fucking Edwards and his business.”

  “Agreed.” Raziel straightened. “All right, let’s go and do this.”

  AN HOUR later, Raziel, Uriel and Tzadkiel stood together in the shade of one of the portable buildings and watched as Raphael tended to the witches. The potion had done its work and there was no trace of the magic that they had been gifted with through Transom’s experiments. Raziel sighed as he thought about the data he’d gathered from Transom’s files. They had detailed the experiments that had led to perfecting the synthetic magic and genetic mutation that allowed for such a thing to work. He wondered how many innocents had died in the process of refining the treatments, how many people had suffered for Edward’s vision of a world free of angels and demons and monsters.

  “Eight of them are completely innocent,” Tzadkiel said, his voice breaking into Raziel’s thoughts and abruptly ending his reverie. “I’ve made my report to Agent Sinclair, the senior officer present. She took it under advisement, but we’re both aware that the FBI will need to do its own investigation, so it could be a while before those eight are allowed to go free.”

  “What about the other four?” Uriel asked.

  “They’re a bit trickier. They committed crimes both here in the US and overseas, so there’s going to be a lot of people who want their hides. Michelle—Agent Sinclair, sorry—said they’ll probably need my help mediating when it comes to those four. So, Brieus, Sophiel, and I are going to hang around for a while and help out. Once these are sent off, I’ll have Jonathon brought in from Guam. Michelle’s prepared to keep him separate from the others. All things considered, I think that’s the wisest course of action.”

  “I agree,” Raziel said. “So it seems as if we’re done here?”

  “I think so.” Tzadkiel looked around. “Now it’s just mopping up, so to speak. Edwards is enraged, you know.”

  “Good. He deserves it, and more.”

  “No argument from me, Raz, but we’re going to have to speak with him before long, all of us. Archangels and the Guild of Glass Knives. He needs to know that he’s beaten.”

  “Why?” Uriel demanded.

  “Because he believes that he can’t be beaten and that he’s above and beyond the law—all law. Can you think of a fate more terrible for a man like that than to know that he’s wrong, that he is beaten, that he is answerable to the law and that he is accountable?”

  “Hm, yeah, okay. I get it.” Uriel nodded. “Let us know when you want to do that, would you? We need to take a day.”

  “Sure.” Tzadkiel nodded in return. “A day to rest and regroup before the last pieces of this fiasco are dealt with is totally understandable. Now that they’re all in custody, we can afford a day.”

  “You’re very generous,” Uriel drawled.

  Tzadkiel laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so pompous. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I know that Michael did the same thing—took a day, I mean. He and Gabe left twenty minutes ago, and I think Remi and Shateiel took Ish, the boys, and Agrat to Indonesia not long after. So go, rest well, and we’ll meet up in twenty-four hours.”

  “At your place in Savannah or at Ondrass’s?” Raziel asked.

  Tzadkiel shrugged. “Ondrass’s. This whole operation has been run from his tower in Portland, so let’s wrap it up there. He’s got more room, anyway, and there will be quite a few more of us present than ju
st our Brotherhood. The Guild of Glass Knives, the Venatores, Gabe’s Necromancer and tracker, Minnie and Max….”

  “Good point,” Raziel said. “All right.” He clapped Tzadkiel’s shoulder. “We’ll be off. Call if you need us.”

  “I will. Good resting,” Tzadkiel said.

  Raziel placed his hand on Uriel’s shoulder, and before his lover could speak or react in any way, he moved them, straight to their house on the beachside at Noosa Heads in Queensland.

  “AND THEN he squealed like a spanked piglet!”

  Everyone laughed uproariously as Raziel finished his story and Gabriel leaned back in his seat, holding his nearly empty beer bottle in one hand. He felt very good—and very drunk—but for the most part, the good feeling outweighed the drunk feeling. In the palatial suite in Ondrass’s tower in Portland, an atmosphere of good will and good cheer reigned and Gabriel found it refreshing.

  They had returned to Portland once the raid by the FBI, Interpol, and the other agencies had finished, with Tzadkiel promising to liaise with them the following week. The feeling that everything was over, that the crisis had been averted, was almost overwhelming, and as soon as the Archangels, Archdemons, Venatores, and others had returned to Portland and the security of Ondrass’s building, the party had started.

  Michael had left several hours ago, smiling gently at the celebration, and Samael had followed him not long after. A few hours ago, Gabriel vaguely remembered Adramelek leaving for Hell, and Raphael and Israfel leaving for a more private celebration of their own. Everyone who remained had continued to party, drinking with gusto and eating the food that Ondrass provided, delivered from various Portland eateries.