“Or when it’s in your best interests, either.” Ondrass looked around the apartment with an expression of distaste. “Do you have to live in such squalor? You’re a queen. You could live in a palace.”
“I like it here.” Lyudmila crossed her arms over her chest. “It suits me.”
Adramelek sat down uninvited, crossing one leg over the other. He looked completely relaxed. Lyudmila glared at him.
“Do not make yourself at home,” she said. “You are not welcome.”
“You wouldn’t have us sit on the floor, would you?” Adramelek grinned at her. “That would be contrary to the rules of hospitality.”
“Those rules do not apply to denizens of Hell.” Lyudmila glared at one then the other, then at Markus. “What do you want?”
“We’re meeting some friends of yours here,” Ondrass said. He was peering at her bookshelf. “Interesting collection of books you have, your majesty. I’m almost positive that the possession of some of these titles in this part of the world would be considered grounds for immediate arrest and imprisonment.”
Lyudmila took a deep breath and ignored Ondrass’s words about her books. “Which friends?”
“Raziel. I rather imagine he’ll bring Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel with him at the very least. If we’re very lucky, he might bring the whole Brotherhood of Archangels, maybe not Remiel, but the rest, quite possibly.” Adramelek stretched like a large tiger.
Lyudmila narrowed her eyes. “If the Archangels are coming, then you are not long for this existence.”
“You’d be surprised, your majesty.” Ondrass turned away from the bookshelf and leaned against the doorframe between living room and kitchen.
From outside came a shrill whistle, the sound of a bird of prey. Lyudmila smiled. “Nyet. I think it is you who will be surprised.”
The flock of eagles, falcons, hawks, and other birds of prey that swooped into the living room through the open window was enormous. There were feathers everywhere, sharp, curved beaks pecking at the astonished Archdemons and their companion, wings beating the air. The birds swirled around Lyudmila and Eleanora, a shield of wildlife, their bright eyes fixed on the demons as Ondrass, Adramelek, and Markus huddled into a corner near the front door.
“Do not make me send them away,” Adramelek snarled. “It won’t be pretty if I do it, and you’ll have a lot of funerals to arrange.”
Lyudmila didn’t have a chance to reply, as precisely at that moment, the entire window shattered, glass shards going everywhere, and an angry Archangel, wings flared high, landed in her living room.
“What the hell are you three assholes doing?” It was Raziel, a nimbus of bronze light shimmering around his form. “You couldn’t have found somewhere else to meet us?”
Ondrass frowned. “Now, now, Raziel, calm down. You’ll work yourself into a heart attack.”
“Shut up!” Raziel roared, smashing a fist into the wall. Lyudmila was amazed the wall remained standing.
“There better be a damn good reason for this, Ondrass,” Raziel went on, his voice dropping to a chill whisper. “Otherwise, the three of you will be dead.”
Ondrass licked his lips and shot Adramelek a quick look. Adramelek nodded once, and Ondrass looked back at Raziel.
“We’ve a message to pass on,” he said. “We can’t go into detail with all these... creatures here. It’s for the Brotherhood’s ears only. And her majesty’s.”
Raziel’s eyes narrowed. They shone a deep, rich blue, tinged with the bronze of his power. “Fine.” Turning his head a little, Raziel spoke to the assembled birds of prey. “You have done very well, my friends. Would you give us space now, to speak privately?”
There was silence and then one of the eagles gave voice to a shrill shriek, took wing, and soared out of the window. The flock of hawks, eagles, and falcons followed.
Lyudmila sat down on the sofa. She was shaking, and she gave Eleanora a wan smile as her friend sat down beside her, taking her hands in her own.
“Now can we talk?” Ondrass asked.
“No.” Raziel furled back his wings, and they faded from sight. “The others will be joining us in just a moment.”
“Wonderful,” Adramelek drawled.
The door crashed open then, and Lyudmila and Eleanora jumped in surprise. Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel strode into the apartment, their expressions bleak. As Uriel closed the door behind them, Ondrass, Adramelek, and Markus cautiously backed away from them. The tension in the tiny apartment was so thick it would have taken ten axes to cut it.
“Speak,” Michael ordered.
Ondrass cast Raziel a quick look. “Ah, Michael. Right. Well, it’s like this. Lucifer wants to put forth a proposal.”
Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. “Really now. And why, pray, would Lucifer give two shits about anything right now?”
Adramelek scowled. “You’re an idiot,” he spat, all previous traces of the cultured, urbane, witty young Russian gentleman gone. Now he radiated power, his eyes dark with the flicker of blood-red fire and his wings a dark shadow behind him. “Lucifer’s aware of everything that goes on in this plane of reality. It’s not our fault if you Archangels aren’t. The current situation is a concern to us all.”
“The current situation being Semjaza’s return, I assume?” Michael asked.
“Yes.” Adramelek took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. The fire faded from his eyes, and the inky shadow of his wings disappeared from sight. Adramelek no longer looked imposing and dangerous; he looked calm and composed.
Raziel tapped his foot impatiently. “So what is it that your lord and master wants to propose to us?”
Adramelek looked from one Archangel to the other, his gaze shrewd.
Lyudmila had the feeling that the Archdemon was expecting a loud outburst. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him, waiting for him to answer Raziel’s question.
“Lucifer will offer his assistance in making sure Semjaza doesn’t run away when you corner him,” Adramelek began, “and to make sure he doesn’t break out of any angel-made shields so Gabriel there can kill him. In exchange, Lucifer wants Semjaza’s soul.”
Lyudmila’s jaw dropped open in shock. The silence in her tiny living room was absolute as the Archangels stared at Adramelek in amazement. Finally, Uriel broke the silence.
“What makes you think we’ll say yes?” he demanded.
“Because Semjaza is an anomaly, a nuisance, and could well bring on a disaster that could lead to an early Apocalypse, and no one wants that.” Adramelek scowled. “Semjaza also seems to feel that he has the sole right to rule Earth. Remember, it was a Grigori who helped Bob Taytton all those years ago, just before the Seventy Years War. Shamsiel was working on his own, to be sure, but I would bet good money that the idea he had to ally himself with Taytton in the first place came out of Semjaza’s own desires to rule Earth and humanity with himself as supreme emperor.”
Raziel huffed. “That wouldn’t surprise me a jot. Tell me—were the Grigori in Hell able to communicate with Semjaza while he was imprisoned in Aquila?”
Adramelek shook his head. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course.” Adramelek looked annoyed. “How would they reach up to the stars above Earth from the planes of Hell when they’re locked up so tight they can’t reach any angel that isn’t in Hell already?”
“What about an angel or demon who could move between realities?”
Adramelek shook his head again. “No. Lucifer would know at the very least.”
Raziel pursed his lips. “Okay, that’s fair.”
Uriel raised an eyebrow. “How is that fair?”
“Because Lucifer rules Hell, and his rule is absolute,” Raziel explained. “Something like that would not escape him. The only reason that we knew of Uphir’s recent deception, for example, is because of Lucifer, and Lucifer knew because Uphir used his power to help kidnap angels on Earth. Once the power is used outside of the plane of the one who bestowed the power, th
e one who bestowed it can feel what, where, and why it’s used.”
“I have no fucking idea what you just said,” Uriel said.
“Good grief. All right.” Raziel rolled his eyes. “Lucifer made demons when he Fell, right? Some of them grew up into Archdemons. They were made out of his rage.”
“Yes, I know that,” Uriel said impatiently.
“And you remembered it? I’m impressed. Anyway, because he made them—not counting Adramelek and his ilk, because they’re Fallen Ones and went to Hell with Lucifer in the first place—the new demons had powers that came out of Lucifer’s own power. Therefore, they’re connected to him. So, when they use their power outside of Hell, on Earth, for example, Lucifer knows what they’re doing, where they’re doing it, and why. The opposite, if you will, of God.”
Uriel blinked. “Huh.”
“Understand, now?” Raziel asked.
“Yeah. I had no idea.”
“Clearly.” Raziel turned back to Adramelek, even as Lyudmila watched Michael and Gabriel exchange a long look that she couldn’t even begin to decipher.
“We need to discuss this,” Gabriel said. “It’s an interesting offer, not denying that, but we’ll need to talk it over.”
“Of course.” Adramelek looked around the room. “Do not take too long, however. Semjaza has plans for your people, your majesty.” His dark eyes fixed on Lyudmila.
She blinked. “I am not surprised. What does he want of my people?”
“Assassins.” Adramelek was blunt. “He plans to make an offer to the various kings and queens of the weres and shape shifters. The offer isn’t a bad one, actually —give you all land to call your own and rule openly in exchange for being his personal guild of assassins.”
Lyudmila pursed her lips. “That... would certainly tempt many of my people. How do you know this is part of Semjaza’s plan?”
Adramelek looked toward the window. “Because it was his plan in Eden. I doubt that Semjaza has thought about changing his plans for dominion over all since those days. Especially since he’s so fixated on running Earth from Eden, as the international capital city.”
Raziel growled. “I really want to gut him.”
“Well, you can’t.” Gabriel was firm. “That’s my job.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Discussion? End of.” Gabriel glared. “Killin’ Semjaza is my gig. No one else’s. How much time do we have, Adramelek? To discuss this with our choir and get back to you.”
“I would say twenty-four hours,” Adramelek said seriously. “Any longer would be pushing it.”
“All right.” Gabriel nodded. “Does he know where Ish and his kids are?”
“He’s got a fair idea, yes,” Adramelek said. “One of the holy places, but he doesn’t know that it’s Iona.”
“So where is he now, then?” Uriel demanded.
Adramelek smiled the ghost of a smile. “America. The state of Washington, specifically.”
“Where in Washington? It’s a sizable state,” Raziel asked.
“He’s by the Columbia River, in a house called Maryhill Estate. The replica Stonehenge there interests him.”
The Archangels looked baffled. “Why there?” Raziel mused. Adramelek shrugged. “No idea.”
“Very well,” Michael said. “You should leave now. We will contact you in twenty-four hours.”
Adramelek inclined his head. “Okay. Pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” He was gone a moment later.
Ondrass lingered. “You should take into consideration how seriously we take this situation, Michael. Adramelek didn’t make a single joke or sarcastic remark. Markus and I kept our mouths shut.” As Michael’s eyes widened, Ondrass nodded once, a curt gesture. “Be seeing you.” And then he and Markus were gone.
Raziel turned to face her, and his expression was filled with concern. “Are you all right, Lyudmila, Eleanora?”
Lyudmila smiled at him. “Da. Thank you for coming, Raziel. It was... I was concerned.”
Eleanora shook her head. “Concerned? Bof! Terrified, that is more honest.”
Lyudmila shrugged. “Maybe. All right, da, da, it is honest. They are very frightening.”
“They’re Archdemons.” Raziel moved to sit beside her. “Hell’s worst.”
She smiled wanly. “I feared for my people, Raziel. When Piotr brought the eagles, hawks, and falcons, I was terrified there would be mass murder.”
From the windowsill came a disgruntled chirp, and Lyudmila looked at the proud figure of the eagle that was perched on the cracked and splintered wood. “It is true, Piotr.”
The eagle flew to her, perched on the back of the sofa, and rubbed his head against her cheek. “I did not want to see my people destroyed by demons,” she went on, leaning into the caress, “and I did not want to see my home covered with the blood of my people.”
“I’ll make sure the place is safe,” Raziel said. “I’ll repair your window too. Then I’ll ward this entire damn building.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Uriel said. “Oh, also? I’m Uriel. Raziel’s bonded.”
Lyudmila smiled at him. “I am pleased to meet you, Lord Uriel. I am Lyudmila, and this is Piotr, my consort, in his eagle form. This is our good friend, Eleanora.”
“The witch,” Eleanora supplied.
“Spaseeba to you both,” Lyudmila went on. “I appreciate this greatly.”
“Your majesty,” Michael said then with profound respect, “if you will tell me where your people congregate in large groups, I will go to those places and install shields and wards there to keep them safe from demons and Fallen Ones.”
“This is Michael,” Gabriel supplied.
Lyudmila got to her feet and curtseyed. “My lord. You honor me. All of you honor me, and you all honor my people. Thank you.”
Michael moved to her and took her hands in his own. His hands were large and warm, the skin dry and smooth. His fingers were long and delicate, and his palms were slightly paler than the rest of his olive skin. His touch was comforting and reassuring; Lyudmila found herself basking in it, wanting to hold on to his hands forever.
Michael smiled, gently squeezed her fingers, and let go. Lyudmila felt a pang as the touch ended, the blessing of it dissipating in the air. To cover up how she felt, she pressed her palms together and gave Michael a small bow.
“Spaseeba, most holy.”
“You are welcome.” Michael turned to Gabriel. “Let us go to ward these places from here. And then we must return to Iona to consult with the others and with Ishtahar and the boys.”
Gabriel nodded. “Right.”
“I will draw you up a list,” Lyudmila said, picking up a pad of paper and a pen from one of the shelves.
“I appreciate that.” Michael smiled at her again, and Lyudmila felt herself glow in the warmth of that smile. Michael, she thought, radiated holiness. She felt humbled and blessed in his presence. The stories her father had told her when she had been a little girl and they had sat in the Church of Saint Michael listening to mass seemed even more wonderful now that she had met the Archangel.
“And I’ll take care of the window.” Raziel stood up, waved a hand, and before Lyudmila’s eyes, the damaged wall, window frame, and glass were repaired. “There we are. Good as new.”
“Spaseeba.” Lyudmila bent to her task, writing down the locations she knew her people liked to congregate and meet each other. She tore the sheet of paper from the pad and held it out to Michael.
“We will do this now, your majesty.”
Michael inclined his head. “You will have one less thing to worry over.”
“I am in your debt,” Lyudmila said.
“Not at all.” Michael took Gabriel’s hand in his. “Raziel, Uriel, join us in Iona when you are finished.”
“Right.” Raziel turned to Uriel. “We’ll go up to the rooftop to do this, I think.”
“Whatever you say, Razzy.”
“Goodbye, your majesty, friends.” Michael smiled.
/> “Thanks guys,” Gabriel added. “See you all later, yeah?”
And then they too were gone, vanished with the sound of rustling feathers.
Lyudmila, Eleanora, and Piotr looked at each other with wide eyes, awe on their faces. Lyudmila could only imagine that her expression was a mirror of Eleanora’s.
“And we’ll go take care of protecting your home,” Raziel said. “We’ll go to Iona from there, so, if you need us in the future, just yell, okay?”
Lyudmila nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Raziel winked at her, took Uriel’s hand, and disappeared.
“Wow,” Piotr said, changing back to his human form.
“Indeed,” Eleanora agreed.
“We have been blessed,” Lyudmila said in wonder.
“C’est vrai.” Eleanora nodded.
Chapter Thirteen
PENEMUEL peered through his spectacles at the faded cuneiform on the parchment he and Chloe were examining. It was a recent acquisition by the British Library and had been dated to the ninth century BC, found in caves in eastern Turkey. The library had paid a great deal of money to buy the parchment at auction, and now Penemuel was translating it.
It was written in a rare dialect of Sumerian, which, given where it had been unearthed, was unusual. The contents of the parchment were remarkable. Penemuel bent over his work, making notes on a pad beside him as he read the words.
“So what is it, Pen?” Chloe asked.
Penemuel sat back and rubbed his forehead. “It’s old and remarkable. It tells the story of the battles of clans of vampires and werewolves banding together to fight demons before the city of Eden was built.”
Chloe’s mouth formed a perfect “O” of surprise. “But....”
“Yes, I know. It’s dated much later and written in a language that wasn’t spoken during that period.” Penemuel smiled. “I believe this to be a copy of a much older document. A means to keep the story alive.”
“So, vampires and werewolves are real?” Chloe was staring at him.
“Oh yes, quite real.” Penemuel smiled at his young friend. “Although, shape shifters is the correct term rather than werewolves. You see, there are many different animals that the various humans with the gift of shifting become. Not that they’re entirely human, being that they shift; they fall into the category of monsters. Which is a misnomer, really, as they aren’t exactly monstrous, but the word comes out of the old Aramaic term for humanoid nonhumans, and it sort of stuck.”
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