“Okay.” Ahijah bit his lower lip. “As you know, I’m helping the Nephilim, Mother. I give them a place to live, work, and safety. The village on the shores of Lake Titicaca is poor, but it’s safe. There are only a dozen Nephilim now, but they’re tired of running and hiding. They haven’t broken any laws. They just want to live in peace. Ididtake holy orders centuries ago, so I am a priest; I run the church there to the best of my abilities.”
“Oh, Ahijah.” Ishtahar pulled him into her arms and hugged him. “Are you happy?”
Ahijah nodded against her shoulder. “Yes, Mother.”
She let him go, touching his cheek with gentle fingers. “Then I am happy.”
Ahijah smiled shyly. “I really thought you would be angry.”
“I am only angry that you do not call me more often,” Ishtahar teased.
Ahijah laughed softly at that. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to call you at least once a week from now on. Or at least, from the point when Semjaza’s been taken care of.” yes.”
Ishtahar sighed heavily. “Semjaza,
“Are you frightened of him, Mother?”
Ishtahar hesitated. For a moment, she thought of lying, but Ahijah was older than any human alive and had been a child when Uriel had unleashed the Flood. He was too old and too smart for her to get away with lying.
“Yes,” she said finally. “Semjaza was always frightening, though.”
Ahijah tilted his head to one side. “I do not remember much of Eden,” he admitted.
“And that is for the best,” she said.
“I remember.”
Ishtahar and Ahijah turned to see Hiwa standing in the doorway. His expression was sad.
“Hiwa.” Ishtahar beckoned to him, and her eldest went to her and took her free hand in his. “I am sorry.”
“Why?” Hiwa looked surprised. “It isn’t your fault, Mama. You raised us as best you could, considering Semjaza tried to control everything and everyone.”
“You do not love your father, then?” Ishtahar asked.
Hiwa wrinkled his nose. “No.”
“How could we?” Ahijah interrupted. “We’re his sins.”
“That is harsh,” Ishtahar said. “You are my blessings.”
Ahijah curled his upper lip. “Maybe. But Semjaza broke laws by fathering us.”
“Even so, I would not do things much differently if I had to do them over again.” Ishtahar looked at her sons. “I love you both. You are my dear sons, and I am proud of you. Although”—she looked at Hiwa with a raised eyebrow—“your tattoos are unpleasant, Hiwa.”
Hiwa laughed. “They were necessary.”
“If you did not work as a criminal, they would not be.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just working with my nature. Like Ahi said, we’re Semjaza’s sins.”
Ishtahar frowned again. “Then how do you describe me?”
Hiwa and Ahijah exchanged a long look. Ishtahar shook her head.
“My beloved sons, I do not regret having you. I do not regret raising you. I do not regret being your mother. You two were the bright lights in my life, in Eden. And then when we fled and hid in the northernmost parts of the world, you were both my only care and concern. You are not sinful to me. You are not shameful.”
They exchanged another look.
“Mama,” Hiwa said, “I think we need to spend more time with you.”
“Yes, I think you do,” Ishtahar agreed.
“We forget, I think, that not every part of our history is bad,” Hiwa went on. “I live in Russia because I like it. Russia is a wonderful land, and the people are wonderful too. I didn’t plan to become a criminal, I just... fell into it.”
“Bah,” Ishtahar said. “Fell into it! Hiwa, next time you reinvent yourself to disguise your lack of aging, please choose a life that is not full of crime?”
“Okay,” Hiwa said, grinning. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you.” Then Ishtahar pulled him into a hug.
Ahijah chuckled and she let go of her eldest son and looked at the two of them closely.
“You will keep in regular contact with me, too, yes, Hiwa?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good.” Ishtahar sat down at the table.
“Mama, can I ask you something?” Hiwa sat down opposite her, and Ahijah joined him.
“Of course.”
“Does Remiel treat you okay?”
Ishtahar smiled, wide and bright. “Yes, dear one, he really does. He is twice the male that Semjaza ever was.”
“Good,” Ahijah said. “I’d hate to have to hurt him. I kind of like him.”
Hiwa nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
Ishtahar shook her head. “How quickly they grow up.”
“It’s been eons, Mother,” Ahijah said. “I stopped counting after twenty-five thousand years.”
“It gets depressing to work it out to the exact number.” Hiwa looked rueful.
“Exactly.” Ahijah grinned at his brother.
“Whatever else Semjaza’s escape has done, I am thankful for one part of it,” Ishtahar said. “It has returned my sons to me. I have missed you both so much.”
Hiwa reached over the table to take her hand again. “We’ll keep in better contact from now on, Mama. Promise.”
“Then I cannot complain,” Ishtahar said. “Thank you, my sons.”
“You’re welcome, Mother,” Ahijah said, smiling fondly at her.
“What he said,” Hiwa agreed.
They fell into a companionable silence, and after an hour or so, Ishtahar turned to look out the window. The snowfall had stopped, and the garden beyond the cottage was covered with a light dusting of white. She shivered, and, Ahijah, seeing it, got up and went to the wood stove and lit it.
“Don’t want you to catch a cold on top of everything,” he said as he returned to the table.
“You are very thoughtful,” Ishtahar smiled. “Could you do something else for me?”
“Anything.”
She held out her mug. “Could you make me another cup of coffee, please?”
Ahijah laughed and took the mug.
“Okay. Hiwa, want one too?”
“Yeah, why not. Thanks, Ahi.”
Ishtahar sat back in her chair, for the moment feeling at peace in the company of her sons in the warming kitchen.
Chapter Fourteen
GABRIEL leaned back in the comfortable armchair he’d sprawled in, listening as Raziel repeated what had happened in Armenia. He watched his Brotherhood, curious to see their reactions.
Each Archangel looked aghast at Raziel’s report. Gabriel couldn’t really blame them.
“And then,” Raziel said, “I was summoned to London. I really have to do something about these spells to summon us that are all over the Internet. I feel like a yo-yo. In any event, I met with our three Grigori in the British Library, and they and Penemuel’s little human friend, Chloe, gave me some rather startling information.
“It seems that Semjaza’s decided to take the Maryhill Estate in Washington for himself. I’m sure you all remember the place. It was the site of a great many fights during the war. The reason for it has since become clear. The replica Stonehenge there is attuned to elemental magic. It’s also aligned to Aquila.”
Gabriel sat bolt upright. “You’re sure?”
“Oh yes. I went and had a quick look before coming back here. I didn’t land or make my presence known, I just flew overhead. That replica is perfectly aligned. It was theorized that perhaps the fights there during the Seventy Years War might have triggered something in the alignment, which led to the bonds of Semjaza’s prison weakening enough for him to use his own magic and power to escape.”
“Fucking hell,” Gabriel growled.
“Quite.” Raziel looked around the Brotherhood of Archangels, his expression grim. “Now, we had decided to pick a spot to have Gabriel confront Semjaza and carve him up. The power of this ring of stones is such that it could be used to enhance Semjaza’s
own power. It would make him equal to us.”
An outpouring of swearing and shouting in denial met that statement. Gabriel sat, frozen, his mind awhirl.
“If I may continue,” Raziel said, raising a hand and pitching his voice so he could be heard over the uproar, “I have a plan.”
“I trust that it is a foolproof one,” Michael said. “I do not want Gabriel to be in danger.”
Gabriel snorted at that. “Me? Not hardly.”
“You, and perhaps.” Michael fixed Raziel with a stern look. “What is your plan?”
“I propose that we give Gabriel a portion of our power. All of us. A sort of booster shot, if you will. A loan for the duration of the fight. That will make Gabriel rather a lot stronger than Semjaza, since he’ll be drawing on the power of all ten of us and not just himself.” Raziel shot Gabriel a grin. “Just don’t decide to rearrange the landscape, Gabriel. It’s a bit unpredictable, and I’m not sure the residents who make their living from the Columbia River would be pleased if you drained it away to nothing.”
Gabriel blinked. “That’s a bloody awful lot of power you’re proposing to give me, Raz.”
“Yes, and there’s more to my plan. I believe that a formal challenge should be issued to Semjaza. I feel that Gabriel, powered up as I described, should go to that Stonehenge, stand on the altar stone, and call Semjaza to face him for a duel. I’m sure you can be suitably insulting in order to draw him into accepting. We remain hidden for the duration, and when Gabriel has finished killing Semjaza, send Semjaza’s troublesome soul down to Lucifer.”
“You feel that Lucifer’s request is one that we should grant, then?” Michael asked.
“I do.” Raziel was grim. “Unless you’ve heard from God that we shouldn’t?”
Michael shook his head. Gabriel turned to look at Metatron.
“Have you heard anything, Metatron?”
Metatron sighed. “No, Gabriel, not a word, and that worries me. God hasn’t said a thing on the subject. When I put the question to Him directly, He just sidestepped it. I think we’re on our own here. I think God regrets the decisions He made back in the old days. He did make them out of rage, after all. I think that’s also why He was okay with Kokabiel, Baraqiel, and Penemuel being redeemed and allowed to go home and be part of the Host again.”
“It would make sense,” agreed Samael, tapping his index fingers together. “I feel that Raziel’s plan is a good one.”
“What if he won’t come out, though?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, I can be pretty insulting, but that don’t mean he’ll bite.”
“I will accompany you.” Ishtahar’s voice came from the doorway.
“No way,” Remiel said immediately.
“And why not?” Ishtahar raised her head. “This is part of my sin too. If I can help redeem my sons by my assistance, then I will do it. I would do it a thousand times over to redeem my sons and their kin, the other Nephilim.”
“Ishtahar,” Remiel said, standing up, “you’ve been forgiven.”
“My sons have not.” Ishtahar looked past him to Uriel. “Are you not still under orders to kill all Nephilim, Uriel?”
Uriel sighed sadly. “Not anymore. Not unless they break the rules. Then I bet I’ll have orders to kill them.”
“Then I must do this.” Ishtahar looked back at Remiel. “For my children and my nieces and nephews. Three of the Nephilim are the children of my younger sister, Remiel. Do not make me watch them die as I was made to watch her die.”
There was a profound silence at that. Gabriel was filled with awe for the strength of character that was Ishtahar. For so many years, she had been self-effacing, fading into the background, quietly going about her business of helping those most in need, and working with Agrat in her safe houses, that it was easy to forget that she was there at all. Now, however, Ishtahar was asserting herself, and not for her own gain, but for her sons and the other surviving Nephilim. Gabriel was suddenly full of pride in her.
“Ishtahar,” he said, standing and moving to her, “you awe me.” He bowed low.
Ishtahar blinked at him in surprise. “Gabriel?”
“Your selflessness.” He smiled and kissed her cheek.
“I am not so selfless, Gabriel,” she demurred, lowering her eyes.
“Aye, you are.”
“And we’ll go with her,” said Hiwa, appearing in the doorway. “Ahijah and I were listening. Semjaza will be more likely to come out and face you if all three of us are there.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “Then I accept your suggestion.”
Remiel was shaking his head. “I don’t!”
“Remiel,” Gabriel said, turning to face the Archangel of Mercy, “I know you’re worried ’cause you don’t want Ish or the boys to get hurt. But you can’t wrap them in cotton wool forever, yeah? They’re human as well as angel and immortal. I know you love her, I do. But she’s got her free will. You can’t take that from her, Remi.”
Remiel’s face was a study in conflicting emotions. Finally, he shook his head and looked at the woman who was the center of his life. “Ish,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. Gabe’s right. I just worry, is all.”
“Dear Remiel,” Ishtahar moved to him, touching his cheek. “I understand.”
“And anyway,” Gabriel went on, “you’ll all be close by in case anything gets out of hand, yeah?”
“You can be sure of that,” Michael said. “If you are facing Semjaza within the ring of stones, I will not be far away.”
Gabriel turned and grinned at him. “You planning on watching my back, baby?”
“Yes.” Michael nodded.
Gabriel’s grin broadened. “And my ass, I bet. I have a fantastic ass.”
Michael blushed immediately. “Gabriel!”
“You are a fantastic ass,” Uriel snorted. He got to his feet. “So, seeing as no one’s had any real objections, when are we doing this?”
Raziel looked around the room. “Day after tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.” Gabriel nodded.
“An hour before we go, we’ll give you some of our power,” Raziel said. “Then, take Ish and the boys and go to that Stonehenge. We’ll follow you and hide ourselves.”
“And when Semjaza’s dead, send his soul down to Hell?” Gabriel asked.
“I will deliver it personally,” Samael said.
“Right. Well, I’ll go call up our friends the Archdemons and give them our answer.” Raziel turned to Uriel. “Are you coming with me?”
“Is water wet? Of course I am.” Uriel stood up. “Where are we going?”
“Paris, I think. I feel like a café au lait on the Champs-Élysées.”
“And you rhymed. You’re so smart.” Uriel laughed and vanished. Raziel rolled his eyes and followed.
“Gabriel,” Michael said, “would you walk with me?”
“Of course, solnyshko moyo.” Gabriel followed Michael outside the cottage.
MICHAEL led Gabriel some distance away from the village. Gabriel walked beside him, wondering where Michael was going, but Michael said nothing, just kept his head down and ignored the few snowflakes that fell.
Eventually, they approached the disused marble quarry, now a ruin on the edge of the island. Michael led Gabriel into the ruins, and stopped behind a thick wall that sheltered them from the chill sea air.
“Mishka?” Gabriel asked.
Michael shook his head and sat down on the ground. “Will you join me?”
“Aye, okay.” Gabriel sat down beside him. After a moment, he used his power to pull in some driftwood and dry it out. He made a small ring out of broken off pieces of rock and marble, and set the driftwood in the center of it, then lit the wood with a thought.
The little fire burned merrily, and Michael smiled, leaning into Gabriel.
“You are very kind, Gabriel.” “Just don’t want you to get frostbite is all, baby. What’s going on?”
Michael sighed. “I wish to tell you a story. Do you promise not to interrupt me un
til I am finished?”
Gabriel, even more confused now, nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” Michael was silent for a moment, and the only sounds were the wind off the coast and the crackling of their fire in front of them.
“Once upon a time,” Michael began, “there was a water-dragon named Shuǐlóng. He lived in a very large river and was very happy. One summer, there was a terrible fire, and all the creatures fled from the flames. Most of them were able to cross the river to safety on the other side, but one could not.
“Shuǐlóng heard the cries of fear coming from the bank and lifted his head from the water. A land-turtle was there, and he was weeping. The fire was approaching rapidly and Shuǐlóng wondered why the land-turtle had not crossed the river to safety.
“‘Pardon me,’ said Shuǐlóng, ‘but why have you not crossed the river?’
“‘I cannot,’ said the land-turtle. ‘I cannot swim.’
“‘Then let me carry you across to safety,’ Shuǐlóng offered.
“The land-turtle was very grateful. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
“‘Climb onto my back,’ Shuǐlóng instructed, ‘and I will carry you to the safety of the other shore.’
“The land-turtle did as he was told, and Shuǐlóng carried him easily over to the bank. As the land-turtle climbed off the water-dragon’s back, Shuǐlóng asked him what his name was.
“‘I am Wu-gui. What is your name, friend?’
“‘I am Shuǐlóng.’
“‘I am pleased to meet you. You have saved my life, Shuǐlóng, and I am in your debt.’
“Shuǐlóng smiled at Wu-gui. ‘You do not owe me anything, Wu-gui. But I hope that we may be friends.’
“‘I would like that very much,’ said Wu-gui. ‘I will come and see you again.’ And then he slowly plodded off to make a new home on that side of the river.
“Every month for the next two years, Wu-gui and Shuǐlóng met at the riverbank and talked. Their friendship grew and grew, and they cared very much for each other. And then, in the third year, there was a drought. It was a terrible drought, and it dried up the river.
“Wu-gui went to find his friend as quickly as his legs could carry him. He was very frightened for Shuǐlóng, for he did not know if Shuǐlóng could survive without water. His fears were confirmed when he arrived at the river and saw it was dry and his good, dear friend, beloved Shuǐlóng, lay dying in the unforgiving sun that beat down on him.
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