by Debra Dunbar
“I like being female. It’s been a while since I was. If it troubles you, I can change.”
“Don’t bother,” he replied. If she changed, he’d need to alter his form to balance. It just wasn’t worth the effort. Increasingly, nothing seemed worth the effort, no matter how hard he fought against his ennui. There were pinpoints of light—fighting with that horrid imp, investigating rumors of sin and stamping them out. Thoughts of Sidreal’s conversation rose in his mind. Creation might be just what he needed to feel alive again.
Alive. The last time he’d felt that way, it had all come crashing down. Balance and order were safer, less painful, than feeling alive.
“You have the papers?” the woman asked, jolting Gabriel from his thoughts by bringing up the reason he’d given her when he’d requested this meeting.
Gabriel flicked a wrist, and a stack of bound documents appeared in her hand. “Obviously, this information is to be kept between the two of us.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I assume so, given that we’re doing this outside of Aaru.”
Gabriel glanced out to sea, where the water met the horizon. At one time he’d enjoyed coming here, assisting the evolution of a lesser species. It was a noble purpose. Now, there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t think of wiping the slate clean. Raise the mighty sea and wash them all away. It would be a fitting end to a terrible tragedy.
Humans had become terrible creatures. It was disheartening how such a promising species could veer so far from their right evolution. They’d messed this one up terribly, and it would be a shame to wipe them out. Increasingly he wondered if they could ever be brought back into the fold. They were too far from center, almost as far as the demons. He felt a pang remembering the Angels of Chaos the demons had once been. Never centered, but still with good in their hearts. He couldn’t say that about what remained of them, and he wasn’t sure he could say that about the humans either.
“It seems we have once again lost our Adversary,” he commented. He’d been there when his brother brought her in, broken and barely alive. He’d felt sorrow, and wasn’t sure if it was for his brother or for the half-dead demon he’d developed a distasteful affection for.
Uriel placed her energy seal on the last page of the paperwork, and it vanished from her hands. “Don’t count the Iblis out yet. She’s a lucky little imp.”
Gabriel shrugged, trying for a casual tone. “Doesn’t matter if she lives or dies, it’s not as if she can hold the office from Hel, and she’s unlikely to return.”
“I think you’re sweet on her,” the woman teased. “Better get your own though; I doubt our brother will share.”
He hid a smile. No, his brother most definitely wouldn’t share. Still, as fun as it was to bully the little imp, he couldn’t understand the attraction. “He’s breaking the rules, dear sister. All of Aaru is whispering about his treason.”
Uriel took in a sharp breath. “Be careful what words you choose, brother. He is powerful and he has loyal allies.”
Gabriel watched her carefully. Her mannerisms, her words all seemed sincere. If his sister had lied about Furlac’s purpose among the humans, she was hiding it well. She was not typically the one who would formulate rebellion. The top position in Aaru had never had appeal for her. The few times she’d gone against any of her brothers, it had been in defense of an ethical ideal—or to protect one she loved.
“Do you defend him? Support him in this madness? Yes, the Adversary is allowed a certain status by the treaty, but he takes it too far. She’ll cause him to fall, if she hasn’t already, and that will rock Aaru to the core.”
Uriel smiled, and he saw a soft light in her eyes he hadn’t seen in millions of years. “Let him be. He’s carried the weight of Aaru on his shoulders for as long as I can remember. He deserves some happiness.”
Happiness. Gabriel felt a stab of pain. Happiness was a fleeting thing, never worth the agony that remained when it fled.
“It will create jealousy, dissent.”
Uriel frowned. “Yes, there will be envy. I too experience that sin, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also feel joy at my brother’s happiness.”
Gabriel turned to look out at the waves crashing on the shore. It was hard to feel joy when the sin of envy blackened his own heart.
“His blatant connection with this demon will open the door to sinful behavior among all the angels. Not that I blame him,” he added. “We’ve had no procreation since the split. Some are desperate.”
“There are a few angels who continue to mate with humans, but it’s not as widespread as you think, and we punish the transgressors. Most would not dream of such an act.”
“What alternative is there? Seize and bind a demon, use it as vessel? They are no longer angels, and the prospect is just as abhorrent as mating with a human female. We are trapped in a cage of our own making.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uriel clench her hands together. A twinge of guilt speared through him—this was an open wound for her, and he was cruel for bringing it up.
“No one forced us to write that treaty. No one forced us to continue the war to its inevitable conclusion. We made our choices, and now we must live with them.”
“Everyone except our illustrious brother. He evidently can violate the treaty and procreate, while others must abide by the choices we made. Nice how he gets to break the rules.”
“Are you questioning our brother’s motives?” she asked hotly. “He loves her. Do you even remember what that sacred emotion felt like, Gabriel? Is this the sin of jealousy talking or do you really think his interest in the imp is strictly as a vessel for offspring?”
He couldn’t help a grimace of irritation. Uriel was such an optimist, always a romantic.
“No, I’m sure he’s head over wings in love. I’ll admit though that this is one of the most difficult effects of the war to reconcile myself to—never being able to create another being.”
He felt the weight of her stare on him. “Creation. Not love. You missed your chance to pass on your oh-so-impressive angelic traits before the war, and now you regret that there will be no opportunity to do so. That’s the empty spot in your heart?”
Her words cut to the bone. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t jump if the opportunity to create presented itself,” Gabriel said.
Uriel lowered her head, picking at a tiny grain of sand as she hid her expression from him. “Yes, but it’s the joining I miss the most. That sense of closeness, when I become more than an angel. It’s the nearest I’ve ever been to divinity.”
“They’re not angels anymore; they’re demons. Love is off the table, as is joining. You’ll need to find divinity through right order and meditation, just like the rest of us.” He hadn’t meant his words to be so harsh, or his tone so bitter.
Her entire body tensed, and her head snapped up, eyes flashing. “I’ve seen a lot of miracles in my five billion years. I won’t give up on love, and I won’t give up on creation.”
Here was where he had to tread oh so carefully. “We may never be able to experience love again, but maybe someday we could manage to find a way around the problem of creation.”
Uriel shot him a suspicious look. She didn’t seem surprised at the premise, but he couldn’t gauge which way she stood on the issue.
“I’ve heard rumors that we could see creation again in Aaru.”
The redhead gave a short bark of laughter. “Such a positive outlook. I hadn’t expected that from you.”
“Would you, Uriel? I know there will never be a spirit to replace Haka, but would you seek to create again?”
They sat for a moment, Uriel’s eyes on the humans playing below while Gabriel watched her. Both her lover and her only child had been Angels of Chaos. The war had split families, but Uriel had lost so much more than most.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I would very much like to create another life. But to do that, we need an Angel of Chaos—a demon. We severed that tie nearly three million ye
ars ago. We knowingly committed ourselves to this path. Unless there is a possibility of immaculate conception, proof that the process does not violate all we hold dear, I won’t break my vow.”
Her voice held two million years of pain. He knew, deep inside, she longed for a different choice, to return to a happier past before the war.
Gabriel drew a line in the sand with his finger, trying to keep his tone casual. “Then I guess we should pray for immaculate conception.”
Again they sat in silence while Gabriel allowed his words to sink in.
“Do you think she is Samael’s offspring?” Uriel asked unexpectedly. “The imp? Our unconventional Iblis?”
Sharp pain stabbed through Gabriel’s chest. “No.”
He offered no explanation. He’d fought fiercely with Samael, as only close brothers can, but even with the war that divided them, he refused to believe his youngest brother had fallen so far as to interbreed with other Angels of Chaos. He never would have contributed to the monsters such inbreeding produced.
“So what are your thoughts on the report?” Gabriel asked, shifting the topic back in a safer, less painful direction.
Uriel breathed a tired sigh. “Two angels dead. That’s three this year including the one our beloved brother dispatched.”
“Althean was one of his Grigori. Even though he wasn’t in the fourth choir, it was still within his scope to deliver justice.”
The woman chuckled. “That sounds like approval. Be careful, dear brother, lest I think you actually support our eldest sibling for once.”
“Just because it was his right, doesn’t mean I agree with the justice he delivered,” Gabriel protested. “Death was an extreme verdict, especially given our inability to produce more angels. Althean could have been rehabilitated, given sufficient time and attention.”
Uriel shivered. “Death was probably more merciful.”
Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “But it’s not Althean that concerns me. He was Grigori and had every right to be walking among the humans, even if his actions weren’t sanctioned. These other two angels were away from Aaru without permission, one of them yours.”
He felt a wave of power from his sister, gritty as the sand they sat upon. “Furlac was delivering a personal message for me. His death had nothing to do with his errand. It was simply an unfortunate accident.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows rose as he looked at Uriel in disbelief. “He was murdered, dear sister. Pray enlighten me as to who killed him, and how it had no connection to his clandestine visit on earth.”
Uriel glared at him. “I do not know who killed him. I’ve recused myself from the investigation due to my conflict of interest. I’ll read about it in the final report. All I know is that I sent him on a peaceful mission and he never returned.”
Gabriel couldn’t help the harsh laugh that escaped him. She lied. If she wasn’t planning a rebellion, what was she up to? Could it be that his own sister found the idea of human companionship too tempting to resist? Was she perhaps hiding a Nephilim of her own, or one born to an angel in her choir?
She snarled at him, and he felt the abrasive scrape of her power, like a rasp against his flesh. “I mourn. He was a loyal member of my choir. I’ll thank you to understand my sorrow and respect the tragedy of our loss.”
He personally felt no sadness, no sense of loss over this angel, but he inclined his head in apology for his callousness. “Then what about Vaol? Raphael’s angel. He left a body behind without a mark on it. How did he die? Who could have done such a thing? ”
Gabriel watched his sister closely to see her reaction.
“The Grigori are investigating this death. I believe they suspected a devouring spirit, which is in keeping with the manner of death.”
“And the thought of a devouring spirit loose doesn’t bother you? I find it hard to believe you could be so casual about the prospect.” He shook his head. First his brother’s odd behavior, and now Uriel’s indifference. What was going on?
“Of course I’m concerned. I have great faith in our brother and his Grigori to contain the matter. If he is unconcerned, then there is no cause for worry.”
Gabriel frowned—was she aware that the monster had been slain or was she just oddly unaffected by the thought of an imminent apocalypse?
“The timing of the two deaths would lead me to believe they were connected, and the fact that the deceased’s choir is not cooperating requires added scrutiny in the investigation.”
Uriel waved a hand in irritation. “You see conspiracy where this is none. Their deaths were not at all similar. How could there be a connection between an angel delivering a message and one whose life was taken by an abomination?”
Gabriel winced. A devouring spirit was something they all feared. Eventually, one day, one would escape them and all life as they knew it would cease. The end would be upon them.
“But why was he with the humans? Raphael claims in the report that he has no knowledge of the angel’s purpose, and his choir refuses to cooperate.”
Uriel closed her eyes and shook her head. “Maybe he was tempted to sin. Maybe even tempted to find a loving connection with a human woman and produce Nephilim. Maybe he just wanted to catch the last episode of Mad Men. Our rules are inflexible and many of the lesser angels chafe under the restrictions.”
Gabriel stiffened. He understood temptation better than most angels. That Uriel was so casual about the shortcomings of others never failed to irk him.
“But he’s dead. Why cover it up unless whatever he was doing is still ongoing and something that is forbidden? There is no shame in having a fallen angel in your choir, unless the entire choir knew of and supported his actions.”
He watched her closely, but she just appeared… tired.
“I don’t care. I just don’t care anymore. Is that wrong? I see how happy our eldest brother is with his little imp and I find myself wanting to throw away all I’ve held dear for the past two and a half million years and find one of my own.” She rubbed a hand over her brow. “Maybe I’m just weary. I’m old, and things are not like they used to be. There’s too much chaos in the universe to hold fast to a philosophy of strict order.”
“Now who is it that voices treasonous thoughts?” Gabriel said softly.
“If over half of Aaru thinks the same, than how is that treason?” she replied. “Perhaps it is a natural turn of events. A return to equilibrium.”
“We have equilibrium,” Gabriel snapped. “And I, for one, will not sully myself with humans or demons. Until someone can present me with a viable alternative, a way to combine myself with the necessary portion of spirit to produce offspring without actually having to join with one, then I will hold fast to my principals.”
Uriel shook her head, once again gazing down at the human children at play. “Then pray mightily, my brother. Pray mightily.”
7
I spent the next twenty-four hours trying to ignore my pain and force myself to convert energy into matter. Even though I couldn’t manage to change my form, if I could turn raw energy to fire or lightning, or produce an explosion, at least I’d have an offensive ability. I may be pond scum, but I’d be bad-ass pond scum. The biggest problem I seemed to be having was holding onto enough energy to produce a decent-sized result. I could spark and shock, rumble the floor below me, but nothing bigger. Raim had been able to directly convert large chunks of matter into energy and produce a lethal burst, although he couldn’t hold or store the energy. I couldn’t manage even that.
I heard the dungeon doors open with a sense of dread. Whatever was coming my way was going to be painful, and there was nothing I could do about it. The large group of feet approached my cell and stopped. I envisioned them staring at me, as if I were an animal at the zoo and they a bunch of second graders on a field trip.
“She needs to be moved to a different cell,” I heard the sorcerer say. “The floor here has been compromised—it won’t properly hold the magical enchantments to perform the rite.”
There was a series of mumbling, and a voice finally spoke. “How are we supposed to move her? I mean… look at her. She’s not exactly solid.”
“Well, how did you get her here? I’m sure she didn’t appear from nowhere into your dungeon.” Feille’s voice was impatient and sarcastic.
“A bucket. And a shovel.” I recognized the scout who’d brought me in.
“Then why are you standing here, staring at her? Get to it.”
There was a flurry of activity, and a few minutes later, my cell door opened. I heard the scrape of the shovel, and felt myself dumped into a bucket. It was all very undignified. From the confines of my container, I felt the vertigo of being lifted, then a rocking motion as whoever carried me swung the bucket to and fro. Another cell door clanged open, and I was deposited onto a cold, hard floor, just as dirty as the one I’d been in for the last few months.
It took a few seconds for whatever sense I was using to visualize my surroundings to stabilize. When the world righted, I saw all the shoes a healthy distance away on the other side of the cell bars. They’d left the door open, but retreated in case I decided to attack.
“She seems determined to ride this out,” one of the guards commented. I’d landed at a slightly different angle and could actually see more than their feet this time. At the distance they all stood, I could make out their faces, although I calculated that within three or four feet, I’d be unable to see anything above their hips.
“Yeah, I thought for sure you were going to get electrocuted, the way you tossed her in that bucket,” one laughed. I really wanted to. If only I could.
Feille gave them a fierce glance and the laughter abruptly stopped. “Is there enough room surrounding her for your circles and runes? I have a feeling she’s waiting to pounce, and I want to make sure you’re safe.”
I knew his concern was strictly because this man was his only sorcerer, and he couldn’t afford to lose him. I’d need to watch carefully for any opportunity to make my move. Not that I might be able to take advantage of it. My only hope was that this insane spell actually worked, and didn’t kill me in the process. If he managed to turn me into a human, I’d be more vulnerable physically, but better able to grab whatever I could reach and beat the shit out of everyone. I loved a good melee, and I was hoping one was in my near future.