Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

  Don’t flex a single muscle.

  But what’s this crap about my soul?

  Shh.

  As usual, I had no idea what was going on.

  Raziel twined the thread round his thumb. “You have such a way with words.”

  “What do you want?” Samael said, voice heavy.

  You’re giving in? What the hell!

  Quiet.

  I struggled to move, but Samael clamped his will down on me like a straitjacket, keeping me immobile.

  “Nothing much.” Raziel pulled the thread, hard, and snapped it in two.

  Pain lashed through me. I screamed.

  Raziel pocketed the split thread. “Just her cooperation.”

  Agony assailed me. My body beat back Samael – he poured out of my orifices in thick smoke.

  I sunk to the floor and vomited.

  Samael materialized beside me. “Stop. Don’t hurt her.”

  “I would never,” Raziel said. “I’m just using persuasion. Stand up, darling. Come here.” Raziel crooked his index finger, motioning for me to join him.

  “Go to Florida, retire in a swamp, and die,” I choked.

  Samael’s face was a storm. “Do what he says.”

  My eyes widened. “What? Are you crazy?”

  Samael helped me up. “Please.”

  I wiped vomit from my lip. “O – okay.” I went to Raziel’s side, terrified.

  Raziel took my wrists in his hands. I flinched.

  “Sam, why?” I whispered.

  Raziel smoothed his thumbs down my skin. “I have a piece of your soul: the wish you made as Eve – for immortality. The secret I granted. Without it, you’ll die. Do you understand?”

  I paled. “That thread?”

  Raziel nodded. “The very same.”

  Samael clenched his fists. “Do as he says.”

  I tore my hands from Raziel’s grip. “No,” I said. “I don’t care if I die. I won’t help you.”

  Samael’s temple throbbed. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Bullcrap.” I reached for the Lapis Elixir, about to fling it to the ground –

  Raziel twisted the thread.

  Gut-wrenching pain. I was on the ground, vision swimming. I wanted to claw my brains out.

  “Stop,” I rasped.

  The pain ceased.

  Raziel twirled the thread gently. “Funny, what power a secret has.”

  I sobbed. “You’re soulless.”

  Raziel picked up the Lapis Elixir and placed it before me. “Just a twist of your finger,” he said, voice soft. “That’s all I need.”

  I shook my head, hugging my chest.

  Semyaza and Azazel’s cries pierced Raziel’s silence. The Watchers were in their own private hells, along with Samael, who looked rent in two.

  Raziel nudged the Lapis Elixir closer to me with his loafer. What a weird shoe for a villain. “Go on. Unlock it.”

  I spat on his toes. “Bite my ass.”

  He tugged the thread. More pain.

  “Do something, Sam!”

  Samael shook. “I can’t. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

  I couldn’t think through the red haze. I reached for the Lapis Elixir and envisioned it as a lock.

  I twisted my fingers, breaking the seal.

  Raziel relented. “Good, darling. Very good.”

  The ground rumbled.

  Azazel stumbled into Raziel, and Raziel’s robe caught fire.

  “Idiot,” Raziel said, trying to snuff out the flames.

  I used Raziel’s distraction to my advantage. I flew at him and grabbed the soul-thread from his hands. My jeans caught fire, so I dropped and rolled, smothering the tongues of heat.

  “Shannon!” Samael said. I flew behind him for protection.

  An earthquake erupted, and it was nearly impossible to stand. I grasped Samael’s shoulders for support.

  Samael glanced at the ceiling. “The catacombs are caving in. We have to get out of here.”

  My legs, already weak from the torture, couldn’t take the vibrations.

  Samael gathered me into his arms, sparing one last glance at Raziel.

  Raziel wove a complex pattern with several silvery threads. They knotted together into a series of concentric circle that expanded like a spider’s web. Raziel cast the net over himself and the Watchers. They disappeared as if beneath a magician’s cloth.

  The bones fell from the walls, and the ceiling cracked in two. Samael rushed up the stairs and kicked open the doors. The violent movement of the ground, coupled with his speed, made me nauseous. I emptied my stomach again.

  Outside was chaos. The angels fought tooth and nail against the Watchers. Trees were falling, gravestones cracked in two. Sirens wailed from the streets of London, screams came from beyond the cemetery, and a fire had started on the horizon, smoke curling up like an omen.

  Michael hacked down a Nephilim. His face was harried. “What happened?” he said, voice like thunder.

  Samael raced for a clearing. “Raziel had her heartstring. She’s hurt.”

  Michael nodded. “Gabriel and I will do damage control. There are two seals left. This can’t happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Samael said through gritted teeth.

  Samael opened a portal and we plunged into it, emerging in his room. He laid me on his cluttered bed and wiped vomit from my lip.

  “It’s alright,” he said, as if to reassure himself. He took the soul-thread I held in my hand. “Close your eyes, okay?”

  I did. He placed his hand over my sternum, and I felt something like a worm burrow into my heart. I opened my eyes to see the soul-thread gone.

  “What did you do?” I asked, voice shaking.

  He smiled weakly. “I healed you. You should feel better now.”

  “London’s burning. The earth’s cracked open beneath it. I did this!”

  He stroked my brow. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Quit saying that every time I screw up.” I rolled onto my side, away from him. The pit of my stomach flopped onto the floor. I clutched a belt that lay on his pillow and bent it in anger. “Raziel tortured me, and you just stood there.”

  Samael clenched his fists. “If I moved, Raziel would have permanently maimed you. You don’t need to be whole to unlock the seals. You can be paralyzed, your limbs hacked off, a vegetable. You’re fragile. Too fragile.” Tears slipped down his cheeks like snail trails.

  I threw the belt at his shelves. It knocked a piece of driftwood to the floor. “You’re awfully good at coming up with excuses.”

  Chapter 24

  The scientists said it was a freak instance of continental plate movement. Off-the-charts magnitude, a catastrophe. Hundreds killed in fires, thousands homeless from collapsed apartments, Buckingham Palace nearly destroyed. The world mourned for London, and Hortense started a relief fund for the capital’s reconstruction.

  I walked campus with dead eyes, stones on my shoulders. My guilt weighed me down, and the only way to alleviate it was to study, study, study until I bled amino acid groups and whispered the steps of poly-ubiquitination in my sleep. Memorizing notes was my punishment, slaving over the potter’s wheel my penance.

  I realized what a masochist I was the morning of my genetics final as I stared into my bedroom mirror, my hair a rat’s nest, bruises under my eyes. I touched the mercury’s reflection and traced my weary face.

  I hadn’t bathed for days. I trudged down the hall in a bathrobe and slipped into the shower. The water was scalding. I rubbed myself raw with a loofah and let my skin burn under the faucet. I emerged red as the Devil and trudged back to my room.

  Rosanna was up, brushing snarls from her hair. She dropped her brush onto her desk. “Jesus. You look like a lobster. You okay?”

  The secret I’d been keeping for days burst past my lips: “People died because of me.”

  She picked up her brush. “What are you talking about? Are you sick?”

  I sank onto my bed. “Remember how t
he earthquake was on my birthday?”

  Rosanna paused. “No. You couldn’t make a natural disaster like that happen.”

  I hugged my legs to my chest and choked back tears. “Raziel made me open another seal. He tortured me.”

  Rosanna flew to my side. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me! Why didn’t Samael stop him?” She hugged me, hard.

  I sniffled. “Sam couldn’t. Raziel was going to hurt me. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Rosanna hushed me. “Cariña, this isn’t your fault. It’s that piece of crap Raziel’s. Dios mio, I don’t want you to hurt anymore. You’re a martyr for Samael – he keeps making you put your life on the line, and for what? So you can get hurt? The hell is wrong with him?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know – everything’s a mess, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. My actions have serious consequences, and I can’t handle them.” I stared out the window, at the deceptively cheery college green. “All those people that died – their blood is on my hands. I feel like Lady Macbeth, with a stain that won’t go away.”

  Rosanna smoothed her hand down my back. “You need to stop letting Samael manipulate you. Every time he asks for your help, something awful happens.”

  I rested my chin on my knees. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I’m the one that broke the first seal. I have to fix this.”

  “Stop trying to go it alone. Divya and I are here to help you. You keep all your problems to yourself, and you never ask for support.” Rosanna squeezed me tight. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  The genetics exam blurred together with my ceramics final and ecology test. Before I knew it, it was the night before my departure. I stripped my room bare, took down my David Bowie poster, and rolled up my Sylvia Plath quotes. Packing was therapeutic.

  Rosanna, Divya and I went out for one last hurrah at the Golden Dragon. We promised to call each other over the summer and send postcards of our trips. Divya was leaving for a study abroad program in Australia, Rosanna had an internship at a publishing house in New York City, and I was headed to the Amazon in a week with Dr. Crane and Arietta.

  My parents parked their van by Trothman Hall early the next morning. After loading the car, my family went out to brunch at a quaint bed-and-breakfast on the Chesapeake. We sat on the porch and soaked in the May warmth. Mo drizzled syrup on his pancakes. He ate so much, as if his body was playing host to four men. Maybe he had a tapeworm.

  For the first time in a week, I felt at peace. Maybe I was getting used to the horrors of immortals, or perhaps I was too jaded to give a damn anymore. London’s victims and Raziel’s touch still haunted my dreams, but during the day, my nightmares slept at the back of my mind, leaving me to at least pretend I was okay.

  “How did your exams go, kiddo?” Dad asked, sugar powder from his waffles dusting his upper lip like a mustache.

  I shrugged. “Okay. Genetics was hard, and I probably got a B on my ceramics project. But I’m sure I passed everything.”

  Dad looked at Mo, who was mid-bite into a strawberry. “And you, Mo? Straight C’s again?”

  Mo coughed on his food. He thumped his chest with his fist.

  Mom laughed. “Ernest, don’t be hard on him. I’m sure he did better this semester.”

  Mo was silent. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling weird lately.”

  Redmont County was the same as I had left it last summer - northern Virginia suburbs interspersed with horse country. Our old farmhouse was tucked into the woods on Redmont’s outskirts. Dogwood trees and azalea bushes bloomed in the front yard. Oak and maple branches swayed in the breeze, and cicadas hummed like a choir. I lugged my suitcase and boxes upstairs with my family’s help and set to unpacking.

  I put my spider containers on my dresser and synced up ‘Starman’ by David Bowie on my speaker. Clothing unpacked and other essentials stowed away, I finally came to my backpack. Samael’s hourglass spilled onto my bed when I unzipped the main pocket.

  “Damn it,” I said. I picked up the gift and, without meaning to, thought of Samael.

  The sand in the hourglass swirled. Samael was at Damien’s with Beelzebub, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up, eyes making contact with mine. “Shannon?”

  I startled and dropped the hourglass. “You can see me?”

  Samael nodded. “Of course. It’s my hourglass.”

  Beelzebub gave Samael a skeptical look. “You’re talking to yourself again.”

  Samael took a sip of his coffee. “I’m not. Shannon’s checking in on me. Isn’t that sweet?”

  I set the hourglass upright. “I didn’t mean to. I just got home. I can’t deal with you right now.”

  Samael slumped. “Deal with me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means she’s sick of you,” Beelzebub said.

  I sat on my bed. “Look, I just had finals. I don’t have time to deal with supernatural crap. Whenever I’m with you, shit hits the fan. I need a break.”

  “A break?” Samael repeated.

  I smoothed the bed’s cover. “Yeah.”

  Chapter 25

  Dulles International Airport was packed with people talking in every language from Hindi to Swahili. Women in colorful saris towed their luggage behind them, and Russian men in fur caps walked through the terminal, thick coats at odds with the weather.

  I hugged my family goodbye and joined Dr. Crane and Arietta at the gate.

  “Take pictures,” my mom called.

  “Write,” dad said.

  Mo waved. “Don’t get bit by an anaconda!”

  I laughed. “I won’t. And mom, remember to feed my spiders.”

  We made our way through security and boarded the Lima Internacional plane. I sat next to Arietta, with Dr. Crane behind us.

  Arietta reached into her backpack and brought out two bottles of home-brewed root beer. She handed one to me and uncapped the other for herself. “From dad and my family. We’re worried about you, after the mess in London.” Arietta shook her head. “I can’t believe the angels let that happen. Are you okay?”

  I focused at the floor. “No, I’m not. But I’m trying to forget about it.”

  Arietta placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Okay. Just know it’s not your fault – nothing is.”

  I stared out the window. Our plane took off. Clouds billowed around us, and the land below was a patchwork quilt.

  We arrived in Peru’s capital late that night and took a taxi to our villa-style hotel, complete with a waterfall-pool combo lush with greenery. The room we shared was gorgeous, and excitement swelled in my chest. I could barely sleep. We woke early the next morning and caught a short flight to Iquitos, the largest city in the world inaccessible by road. I was blown away by the city’s diversity. We went to the market in the morning, where everything from monkeys to caiman tails were sold. The barrios were painted in bright colors, and the scents of cooking meat and city living flooded the streets. The Amazon River snaked through Iquitos, and lush tropical vegetation sprouted wherever there was space. Arietta and I took a motorcycle-drawn cart around the city while Dr. Crane bought supplies.

  “This is amazing,” I yelled over the roar of the engine.

  Arietta snapped a picture of the waterfront. “Smile,” she said. She took a picture of me.

  We took a boat that afternoon up the Amazon. Soon, we were in the thick of the rainforest. It was hot and misty, with exotic bird calls. Arietta and Dr. Crane stood at the prow, bird-watching.

  “Look. A hoatzin bird,” Arietta said. She pointed at a gangly orange-brown bird climbing a tree by the side of a marsh.

  “Good eyes. Shannon, would you like a closer look?” Dr. Crane said. She offered me her binoculars.

  “Thanks.” I took them and pressed my eyes to the lenses. “Wow. What a weird bird. Its face is blue.”

  It clung to a branch.

  “Why isn’t it flying?” I asked.

  “They’re flightless,” Dr. Crane said. “They’
re an ancient species – they resemble some of the first birds.”

  “Cool.” I handed the binoculars back to Dr. Crane.

  “Look, scarlet macaws,” Arietta said, pointing to a flock above us. She sniffed the air with her lupine nose, supposedly picking up their scent.