Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

  My stomach sunk. “I’ll have to fly again, won’t I?” My phobia of heights plucked my nerves like guitar strings.

  Samael nodded. “Odin, Loki, can you take care of Michael? We’re going for Adam’s reincarnation.”

  Loki grinned. “Are you kidding me? Getting rid of stick-up-his-ass will be like swatting a fly.”

  “Don’t underestimate Michael, blood-brother,” Odin said. They charged at Odin’s signal, riding over the gulf and into the darkness. Lightning from Thor’s hammer shot over the lip of the cliff, and furious cries rose through the mist.

  Samael turned to me. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. But it’s the only way. Asgard’s desperate.”

  “What, possessing me?”

  Samael nodded.

  I swallowed the bile in my throat. “Okay.”

  Pain shot through me as Samael settled into my bones. Shadowy wings sprouted from my back, and I took off.

  Relax. I’ll handle this.

  My limbs moved of their own accord as I diced angels to bits, severing their wings, cutting off hands. Samael’s bloodlust burned in my gut. Asgard’s forces corralled the angels towards the heaven’s gate and drove them back until only Michael was left, warring against Odin, Loki, and Thor.

  Loki flew, aided by a feather cloak, and Odin’s steed raced across the air like it was earth. They wove circles around Michael, who lashed out with his flaming sword. Michael drew a shallow cut from Loki’s shoulder, and Loki fell back. Finally, there was an opening, and I sailed towards Michael, petersword raised.

  Disgust clouded Michael’s face. “You’re possessing her? Only you would stoop so low.”

  “Samael’s not the one attacking innocents,” I said, petersword singing as it met Michael’s sword. I parried his strike.

  Michael’s eyes seared. “Asgard is hardly innocent. Odin’s warmongering knows no bounds, and Loki’s mischief has brought ruin to worlds. They’re false spirits devoid of souls. They must be purged in God’s name.”

  “You’re justifying genocide,” I said. “Your Father is insane.”

  I misstepped. Michael’s sword was at my throat. It was a cold fire – it didn’t burn.

  “You’ve been drinking Samael’s poison,” Michael said. “He’s feeding you lies.”

  “All I see is blood,” I said. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

  Michael lowered his sword. His face darkened. “I can’t hurt you,” he said softly. “Father wouldn’t want that, nor would I. You’re His daughter, just like I am His son.”

  Samael snarled. Father’s gone. How can Michael know what He wants? None of us know what He wants - what the damn point to all this suffering is.

  “Sam, calm down,” I said. His anger made my grip on the petersword unsteady.

  Michael furrowed his brows. He looked to Odin and Thor, who had their weapons pointed at him, then back over his shoulder, to where Henry was silhouetted against the heaven’s gate, keeping the portal open. Michael spoke: “My twin will corrupt you, just like he did Eve. You’ll wake up with your life in ruins and your dreams burned to ash. Do you want that?”

  Arrogant bastard.

  “I’d rather throw my dice with Samael than with Heaven,” I said.

  “So be it.” Michael flew into the white portal. Henry lowered his petersword, and the heaven’s gate began to shrink.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Henry said.

  “Fixing the damage you’ve caused,” I said.

  “Damage? What kind of Christian do you fancy yourself?” Henry said. “These tools are demons. You’re supposed to kill the evil buggers.”

  “I’m agnostic!” I said.

  “Whatever. Guess I’ll see you around.” The gate closed.

  Time to lock it.

  I twisted my petersword and sealed the portal.

  “Woo!” Loki said. He clapped me on the back. Blood flowed onto his feather cloak. “What style. Sam, that was genius – using the girl to play on Michael’s heartstrings.”

  We landed in the ruins of Asgard. Samael poured out of me in black smoke. I coughed and sunk to the ground.

  “Shannon?” Samael said, kneeling beside me.

  “I’m fine.” I sputtered.

  Samael helped me up. I leaned against him, weak.

  “Michael could have slit my throat,” I said, my voice hoarse.

  “My brother wouldn’t do that,” Samael said.

  “Like that makes it any better?” I said.

  We walked to a great wooden hall on the outskirts of Asgard. Sea goddesses were putting out fires and valkyries were collecting the dead. Odin watched atop his steed as the wounded filed in through the entrance. Loki followed us, clutching his injured shoulder.

  “Close call, eh?” Loki said. He went to the side of a golden-haired woman who was tending to Heimdall. “How is he, Idunn?”

  Idunn pressed a compress to Heimdall’s brow. “Recuperating. Get me an apple, from my basket over there. I’ll tend to you next.”

  Loki did as she said.

  “Why don’t they automatically heal like you?” I asked Samael.

  Samael sat at a long table and motioned for me to join him. “The Norse gods are more mortal than immortal. They eat Idunn’s apples to remain youthful. She’s critical to their survival.”

  Idunn grinned. “That’s probably the only compliment you’ve ever given me, except for that time you were trying to be Loki’s wingman.”

  “I meant every word of that,” Samael said.

  I sat down at a long hall table. Food materialized before me – roast pig stuffed with apples, a flagon of mead, stew, and hearty bread. Samael downed the mead. Hunger reared in my stomach.

  A cold wind came from behind me. I turned to see Odin, his eyes like storms. “Help yourself. You need your strength,” he said. Two ravens perched on his shoulders. He petted one’s neck. It croaked in appreciation. “Sam, I trust Gerd and Magni are well?”

  Samael nodded. “They are. Very trusty birds. I gave them to Shannon.”

  I paused between bites of bread. “Wait – Gog and Magog?”

  Odin chuckled low. “You renamed them? Well, I hope they serve you well.” Odin raised a horn of mead. “To your propitious arrival.”

  Loki, his shoulder bandaged, clacked his flagon against Odin’s cup. “Cheers.”

  I spent the night enthralled by Loki’s tales and Odin’s riddles, none of which I guessed right. Thor came in midway through the evening and challenged me to a match of Hnefatafl, which was basically Viking chess. I lost miserably.

  “You have no mind for strategy,” Samael said.

  I glared at him. “Yeah? You haven’t seen me play checkers. I’m lethal.”

  Thor laughed. “We have a checkers set somewhere. Loki picked it up at a Toys-R-Us when he was getting the newest Pokémon game.”

  “It’s on,” I said.

  Thor produced the board game. I was red, Samael black. A battle ensued.

  “King me,” I said.

  Samael narrowed his eyes. “How did you do that?”

  “King me again!”

  I won.

  I cracked my knuckles. “Aren’t you supposed to be unbeatable?”

  Samael frowned. “You’re thinking of chess.”

  “Does this mean I get a year added to my life?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  Chapter 18

  The following weeks fell into a rhythm – research with Arietta in the afternoon and training with Samael in the evenings. Michael made advances into the otherworlds. I found myself battling angels in Olympus, fighting seraphs in the aboriginal Dreaming, slaying cherubim in the Aztec afterlife, and pummeling ophanim in Avalon. I got drinks with the Morrigan and danced with Coyote, making rounds through different pantheons and reading up on their mythology afterward. It was a crash course in the supernatural, and I barely kept up with my studies.

  February came. I hunched over my desk, studying methylation for genetics. Rosanna looked up from p
ainting her toenails. She waggled her foot at me.

  I laughed. “What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said, dipping her brush into the bottle of cherry red paint. She swiped a streak on her big toe.

  “You’ve been humming Siouxsie and the Banshees all day. Obviously, something’s up.”

  Finished adding a top coat, she closed the bottle. “You won’t like it,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “Try me.”

  She stood up and twirled around, lacy black skirt billowing. “Mo asked me out, and I said yes.”

  I groaned. “No, ew. Not my brother! Anyways, I thought you just had flings.”

  Rosanna laughed. “I’m making an exception for the meathead. His calves are to die for.”

  “I did not need to hear that.”

  Rosanna pouted. “You’re no fun. You haven’t dated anyone since Baxter. Live a little, mijita.”

  I looked at my feet. “Um, that’s not entirely true.”

  “Wha?” Rosanna said. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me!” She flopped onto her bed and hung her head over the edge. She looked at me upside-down. “Dish.”

  I twiddled my thumbs. “It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Rosanna pursed her lips. “Stop being mysterious. You’re a pretty transparent person.”

  “Sam kissed me,” I muttered.

  Rosanna gaped. “Oh my god. The Robert Smith Tarot cards were right. I really am psychic. I should start my own hotline.”

  “No, it’s not like that. I don’t like him.” I looked at the floor. “Okay, I do, but that’s not the point. The point is that he’s creepy, and rude, and a pile of bones. It’s gross. I can’t see myself with him. It’d be like dating a mummy!”

  My roommate laughed. “But he’s cute, when he’s not the Grim Reaper. Didn’t you say he has abs?”

  “But they’re just an illusion!”

  Rosanna shrugged. “I mean, can you touch them?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t touched Death’s abs.”

  “But you want to?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want!”

  Rosanna rolled onto her stomach. “Do you think his skin would be cold? Like a vampire’s?”

  I snorted. “Like a corpse, you mean. He’s pale as paper.”

  My roommate bit her lip. “Do angels… can they even?”

  I raised my brows. “Wha?”

  Rosanna bit her lip. “You know. Can they make angel babies?”

  “Well, considering I was almost raped by one, yes.” I shivered at the memory of Jeqon.

  Rosanna’s eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

  I balled my hands into fists. “It’s fine. I’m going to kill those bastards if it’s the last thing I do.” I shook my head. “Immortals see humans as objects. The Claimed are treated like commodities. Asmodeus has a huge harem of them, and Rofocale uses her Claimed as militia. They’re servants, fucks, or both. I know Sam doesn’t have any Claimed, but I can’t stop wondering if he sees me the same way - as a means to an end.”

  Rosanna pillowed her head on her arms. “I don’t know. He went to your art show, and he keeps sharing things with you – his favorite movies, his horrible band. Didn’t he get you a sketchbook for Christmas?”

  I glanced at the untouched gift on my shelf. “Yeah. I don’t want to use it. It’s too pretty.”

  Rosanna sat up and walked over to the sketchbook. She traced the cover. “Roses and crows, eh? That’s morbid.”

  There was a light knock at the door. “Come in!” I said.

  Divya opened the door, followed by Seth Yoon, her on-again off-again boyfriend. She had a bottle of sparkling cider in hand. “We’re watching a movie, and you’re both invited.”

  We watched it in the lounge and drank the cider from plastic cups. Rosanna texted Mo, and as the two couples beside me cuddled, I got a sinking feeling in my gut. Would I ever have a normal relationship, now that I was something more than human?

  My friends were deeply absorbed in the movie, but my mind drifted.

  Something pecked on the window behind me. I looked to see Gog and Magog perched in a tree beside Samael. He pressed his nose to the glass. I rolled my eyes.

  “Erm, I have to go, guys,” I said.

  “But we’re about to watch the dance interlude,” Divya said.

  “I’ll watch it later, okay?” I went to my room to get my coat, then went down to the porch. Samael was on a rocking chair, smoking. Gog pecked for bugs in his hair.

  He exhaled a snake of smoke. It slithered up to the clouds. “Hello maggot.” Gog bit his ear. “Ow?”

  I looked at the moon. “It’s late.”

  He rocked in his chair. “It’s 9 PM, and it’s Friday. The night is young. Shouldn’t you be at a kegger?”

  I frowned. “Why are you so fascinated by keggers?”

  He stubbed his cigarette out under his boot. “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.”

  I was a deer caught in the headlights. “It is?”

  He laughed low.

  “Um, I forgot,” I said.

  He rose, hair a dark curtain. “I’ll help you remember.”

  “Sam.”

  “What?” He cupped my face with a single hand. “You looked lonely. By yourself in a crowd.”

  “There were only four other people?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I know that feeling.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  I drew back. “It’s cold out here.”

  “Then let’s go somewhere else.”

  Before I could protest, he summoned a portal, and we were sitting on his bed. His room, usually a disaster zone, was almost clean. He hastily swiped a belt to the floor, then snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed.

  “This is corny as all get out. Are you trying to seduce me?” I laughed, inching away from him.

  He lay down on the comforter. “No. I wanted to show you something.”

  “I think you’re trying to seduce me. You even kind of cleaned.”

  “No! Look. This isn’t really my room. Well, it is, but it isn’t. We’re in the Cave of Souls.” He patted the pillow next to him. “Come here.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

  He blew air through his teeth. “Will you just trust me!”

  “Fine.” I lay on my back beside him and stared up at the bed canopy. “What now?”

  He took my hand in his. “Close your eyes.”

  I did.

  “Now open them.”

  The room was gone, leaving only the bed. Darkness stretched around us – rich and cool, like the embrace of Mother Earth. We were in a cave, if caves were cathedrals, and pews carved of stone. Candles lined the stone, rising up the walls into oblivion. Some were full tallows, others dying flames. One melted to burnt wick, and the wax reformed itself into a pillar, lighting anew. It smelled like possibility, a great untapped well of things to come.

  “Where is this?” I said.

  Samael smiled, his eyes like glaciers. “The base of the Tree of Knowledge. It’s a place out of time. It has always existed, yet never will be.”

  Sure enough, roots hung from the ceiling, dripping water onto stalagmites. I caught a droplet on my hand.

  “What are the candles?” I asked, feeling the answer in my bones.

  Samael looked upon them fondly. “Souls. Aren’t they beautiful?”

  “Yeah…” I watched another tallow die. “What happens when they go out?”

  “They pass on, and another soul takes their place.” He squeezed my hand. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s quiet.” I breathed deeply. “The air’s nice. It clears your head.”

  Samael threaded his arm under my waist. “I come here when I need to think. In this cave, I’m surrounded by innumerable loves and joys. It makes me feel less alone.”

  I looked into the deep pools of his eyes. “I like it when your fa�
�ade’s gone. You’re an old soul. Like, bajillions of years old.”