by Jane Kindred
§
Kirill’s head felt like it was packed with mud. Whatever the shopkeeper had dosed him with had been some kind of an intoxicant as well as a soporific. Kirill had always kept his temple clean, taking the vow of abstinence in every sense, and had never even tasted a sip of vodka.
After he’d woken from its effects, the dust he’d inhaled still seemed to be deep in his lungs, renewing the lightheaded, warm sensation with each breath. It crackled in his head like embers in a fireplace and filled it with a scent he couldn’t place, a sweet and musky odor that reminded him of the ocean.
Though he was conscious now, he realized he hadn’t opened his eyes, but when he tried to, he thought he’d gone blind. It took him a moment to realize a cloth bag made of some dark fabric covered his head. Perhaps it was why he was still intoxicated, breathing whatever it was, trapped in this same air. After a few more moments, it occurred to him to take the bag off, but he found his hands immobile, bound behind his back.
Leaning against sacks of seed or grain, he tried to remember why he’d come to the shop. Gradually, the visit to the Raqia market came back to him, and then he recalled seeing the children. Dirty and disheveled, Ola had been tucked into the dark closet of a room in the back of the shop with the little boy beside her.
“Is anyone there?” His voice was husky with the dust as he called out. “Ola?” No one answered. He had a vague idea he ought to be worried, but the dust in his lungs was pleasant and calming. He’d never felt anything so pleasant, he thought with a sigh. Only one thing, he amended, and breathed deeply as the memory of Love’s body against him stirred him to a somewhat disembodied sense of arousal.
“Moya Lyuba,” he murmured dreamily. “Moya vlyublennost. Ya tebya lyublyu, moya Lyuba.”
§
The cards didn’t make sense. They certainly couldn’t be speaking of the children. Lively stared at the Seraph of tricks juxtaposed with the Virtue of tricks: burning heart, friend of the heart. And the querent: Power of facets. Where had she seen that in a recent spread?
The ambergris scent of firedust filled her head as if it were right in the room with her, and with the sensation, the message came through clearly: I love my love. No, that wasn’t quite right. I love you, my Love. It was Kirill, Love’s monk; he’d been the Power of facets in the fortune Lively read for her. Why in Heaven was Kirill communicating with her through the Chora with a message for Love?
He wasn’t, of course.
Lively gathered the cards with an anxious look at the door. She’d set about seeking the children and the cards had found Kirill pining for Love. It was a locating query, not a message. The children were with him.
The scent surrounding him was like the air in a den of iniquity. There were none left—not legal ones, anyway—following Aeval’s cleansing campaigns of “renewal,” but the monk was somewhere in a place where the illicit firedust was plentiful. He had to be in Raqia.
Lively had been resigned to obeying her aunt, but the message from Love had rattled her, and now Kirill appeared to be the one who’d absconded with the children. She might not be able to keep this from Helga, but she could relay to its intended recipient the inadvertent message Kirill had released into the dusty-sweet air.
§
They were getting ready to check out and head for the train station when Love read her e-mail one last time. Belphagor indulged her. Puttering around on a computer seemed to make her happy, and she deserved a little happiness.
“It worked!” she exclaimed with a grin. “Lively got my message.” She read for a moment before her eyes began to brim with tears.
With a knot of dread in his stomach, Belphagor turned the computer toward him and scanned the page, afraid of what must have happened. But it wasn’t about Anazakia. Lively had sent a message from Kirill, a little love note she’d gotten from somewhere. No wonder Love had teared up. The rest of the message, however, was strangely worded, as if it were in code.
“The power of facets,” he read aloud, “sends his love from the place of flames among the innocent angels.” Belphagor shook his head. “What does that mean?”
“It’s the Chora.” Love wiped her eyes. “The Power of facets is the card she drew for Kirill when she read my fortune. I don’t know what the place of flames is, but I think the innocent angels must be Ola and Azel. She’s telling us where they are, and that Kirill is with them.”
“The place of flames.” Belphagor pondered. “The Brimstone, maybe? But it burned down along with half of Raqia when the Seraphim went on their rampage.”
“Then maybe it just means Raqia. Maybe she doesn’t know exactly where.”
“Well, then, where is she? Where’s Nazkia?”
“I don’t quite understand how the Chora translates into e-mail protocol, but it shows the address as ‘[email protected].’ I think that means she’s in the palace, and if the demons have seized it, then they’ve seized her, too. The only thing she says that might be about Nazkia is in her closing line: ‘We’re comfortable here. The angel of facets has a private room.’ I’m guessing that means she’s a prisoner.”
Belphagor nodded. “I think you may be right. Well, I suppose it’s better than allied with Helga. And if Ola is truly safe with Kirill…” He shook his head, afraid to believe it, but there was the return address from Lively, plain as day. He smiled reluctantly. “I’m sorry for doubting your fortune-telling nonsense.”
With nothing more for them to do in the world of Man, they spent their last hour on earth waiting for the train at Moskovsky Vokzal, ignoring the looks the Virtues drew from the other travelers despite their concealing disguises.
As they boarded, someone called Belphagor’s name. Scanning the crowd, he saw Dmitri hurrying toward him and he stepped down, not certain how to react to this good-bye. He thought they’d said everything they had to say to each other. Dmitri was still crushed by the loss of Lev and Belphagor couldn’t blame him, but he also couldn’t quite forgive him for using it as an excuse to abandon Anazakia.
“Bel.” Dmitri was breathless as he reached him, putting a hand on his arm to draw him away from the platform.
Belphagor regarded him coolly. “My train is about to leave, Dmitri.”
“Pyotr Alexeyevich told me what happened to Love.” Dmitri glanced at the train and saw her watching from the compartment window, the bruising on her face unmistakable even from a distance. “Khrystos, Bel. I’m so sorry.”
“You gave me the address. She’d probably be dead if you hadn’t.”
“But I’ve let the Nephilim do what they please. This is my fault. I’ve been so sick over Lev, I just didn’t care what was happening around me. To anyone. And now Zeus’s brother and sister have tried to take revenge on Love because I let the damned Angliski roam about with impunity. Fucking Zeus!” he burst out. “Lev would be ashamed of me.”
Belphagor couldn’t argue with that.
“I can’t speak for the rest of the terrestrial Fallen, but the Exiles will do what we have always done: take care of our own. And that means you. And Vasily, demon blood or not. And your little girl.”
Belphagor raised an eyebrow at him. “But not Anazakia.”
“Damn it all, Bel!” Dmitri glared at him. “Do you want me to spell it out? Fine. Yes, Anazakia. Every last Virtue in Heaven, the gypsies, the entire House of Arkhangel’sk…whoever your pet of the day is. I can’t very well condone supporting the SLP after I run the Angliski out of town and it would be insanity to support Aeval.”
“So you’re backing Anazakia by default.”
“Belphagor.”
“All right, all right. I accept your apology. It was an apology, wasn’t it?” He winked at Dmitri’s exasperated look.
The last call for boarding rang out, and Love waved frantically.
“So what kind of support can we expect?”
“You really want me to eat crow, don’t you?”
Belphagor grinned. “A little bit, yes. Just a baby crow.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t think you have time to watch me eat it, my friend. Your train is moving.”
“Derrmo.” Belphagor took out his phone and called Loquel. “Lyosha.” He waved as Loquel peered out the window at him while the train pulled away. “I’ll catch up with you. Tell Love to stop panicking.”
Loquel answered in his soft voice without question. “Da, gospodin.”
“Khoroshii malchik,” he said and closed the phone.
Dmitri’s mouth twitched. “Good boy?”
Belphagor grinned as he put the phone away. “I’m teaching him Russian.” He glanced at the departing train and sighed. “I need to see about getting the next one. Let me take care of this and then we’ll talk about the plan.” As he turned toward the ticket window, someone stepped in front of him.
“Going somewhere, suka?”
§
The queen’s army had flown like the wind, as if Aeval had released their wings the way she’d once done with him. As she turned her troops toward Elysium, Kae had gathered his remaining men and given them an option: would they take their well-earned rests and return to their homes in Aravoth to recuperate, or would they join him in pursuing the villains who’d slaughtered so many of their brethren? The decision had been unanimous. They were for pursuit.
With the exception of a few night skirmishes by the raiding parties Kae sent galloping ahead when the queen’s army tried to rest, the Virtuous Army hadn’t engaged them in battle since they’d retreated. Aeval drove her men more ruthlessly than Kae did his own and the Supernal Army was soon a full day ahead of his Virtues. She also had the advantage of commandeering fresh horses in towns along the way, and the bulk of her horses were lithe and bred for speed and agility, unlike the sturdy mountain horses of the Virtuous Army.
Kae calculated the distance. The brigade he’d sent through the Empyrean ought to have crossed the Central Rift by now. They should reach Elysium within another day or two. He hoped Aeval’s army wouldn’t reach it for three.
Semnadtsataya: Thicker Than Water
from the memoirs of the Grand Duchess Anazakia Helisonovna of the House of Arkhangel’sk
All hell, as it were, had broken loose in Elysium.
Helga had put me in a room in the new wing—where the Hermitage was in the world of Man—so I could watch the activity in the square. Early in the morning, the Virtues rode into the city, somewhat road-worn, but majestic in their Virtuous splendor. When he’d made the deal with Helga, Vasily had sent a messenger from the Iriyan troops with a note bearing his seal—I hadn’t even known he had a seal, but Helga had supplied it from the House of Arcadia—telling them of our supposed alliance. The Iriyans and Helga’s soldiers, motley assortment that they were, had flanked them on the road to the palace like brothers at arms.
This ought to have been my moment of triumph, with Aeval’s remaining troops overwhelmed by the surprise attack. Of course, we hadn’t expected Helga’s forces to arrive first, and we’d had no idea of the numbers she’d gathered to her. I supposed it was better than seeing them slaughtered, as the rest of my men had been.
Helga had declared Elysium, the Firmament, and all the Heavens for the Social Liberation Party, and for the heir, His Supernal Highness the Grand Duke Azel Kaeyevich of the House of Arkhangel’sk. If no one had yet seen the grand duke, there were plenty to say they had, and Helga would present him, they believed, once the illegitimate queen had been vanquished. With my supposed support thrown behind the grand duke’s bid, even the noble houses of Elysium began to come around. It was gratifying at least to know they might once have been for me.
Helga’s takeover of Heaven was nearly complete until Aeval’s Hashmallim descended. An elite cadre of warriors she’d sent ahead of her army, they rode into Palace Square from all directions, having circled Elysium and advanced toward its center like the spokes of a wheel. They came wielding polearms equipped with a spiked tip and hook, enabling them to dart forward and take out mounted soldiers before their swords had reached them and to dispatch the peasants on foot with ease.
It was impossible to tell how many there were as they moved with swift, coordinated movements like a violent quadrille, and their presence soon caused utter chaos in the square. The untrained demons ran at them and were struck down, and the Virtues, unwilling to crush the fallen men under their horses’ hooves, whirled and reared their mounts, putting themselves in harm’s way.
I banged my fists on the window and shouted at them in futility, invisible from this distance. If Kae were here, he would shame them into behaving like the ruthless killers he’d trained them to be. I’d despised his methods as I watched them train, but we were engaged in a game of numbers at which we’d begun with a distinct disadvantage. We could ill afford to lose more.
The rank and file of Aeval’s army arrived fresh to the fight after the Hashmallim had exhausted and eroded the ranks of their foes. As dusk fell, it became harder to keep track of the bodies.
Behind me, a key clicked in the lock on my door. “The Lady Regent wants to see you,” said the guard who entered behind me. The Lady Regent. Already, she’d crowned herself.
I picked up my bloodstained jacket and put it on with deliberation. If she wanted to play at formality, I would present myself as the commander of the Virtuous Army.
In the hallway, the waiting demon escort grabbed me by the arm to lead me to Helga. When I shot him a glare to protest that I could walk very well on my own, I looked up into a face I hadn’t expected to see again. I nearly gave him away to the guard in my surprise, but Nebo jerked my arm harshly before I could speak. “No nonsense from you,” he snapped, carefully masking his earthly accent. I went with him silently, resisting the impulse to throw my arms around him. I’d last seen him running back into certain death in the melee at Gehenna, unwilling to leave the body of his sister, Vashti, killed in our escape. He led me toward the Malachite Room but passed it and ushered me to the private garden entrance instead.
He murmured at my ear as we neared the bottom of the stairs. “Lively says you have your knife. Keep it ready.”
“Hang on there.” One of the demons guarding the exit took a step forward. “Where are you headed with her?”
“Where I’m headed isn’t important. It’s where you’re headed. Now.” Nebo lunged toward the demon. The other went for the knife at his side and there was no time to hesitate. Like the Virtues, I must put my squeamish sensibilities aside. This was war.
I snapped open my navaja and thrust. With a groan of surprise, the demon staggered back and dropped to his knees.
Nebo lowered the body of the one he’d killed silently to the floor. “Finish him,” he urged. “Before he sounds the alarm.”
I stepped in instinctively, using a move Margarita had taught me to crush my opponent’s throat with a sideways kick, and broke his neck. Frozen, I stared at the man I’d killed, appalled that it had been so easy. Nebo grabbed my arm and ran with me into the garden. The lovely scent of roses surrounded us as we fled, as if it were an absolutely ordinary summer evening.
At the far wall, we encountered another pair of guards, and again I found myself watching my own actions as if from an inside window as I killed a man with frightening ease. Outside, Nebo provided me with a hooded cloak to hide my uniform and we disappeared into the chaos, not stopping until we were well beyond the fighting. We rested a moment against the garden wall of a private residence in an unlit alley to catch our breath, and then I startled Nebo by throwing my arms around him after all.
“What happened to you at Gehenna?” I cried. “How did you escape? How did you wind up in the palace?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Your Supernal Highness.” He gave me an awkward smile as I released him.
“We thought you were dead, Nebo.” I tried to cover my embarrassment at my emotional display with a tone of disapproval. There was noise on the street, and we hurried into the darkness, no other destination in mind, I assumed, than avoiding the queen’s men and Helga’s demons.
I put a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to. I spent some time in one of Aeval’s prisons.”
“They kept us in large cells, huge numbers of men in each, and the Virtues didn’t fare well.” He shook his head, as if to dispel the memories. “The rest of the prisoners were demons, and hardened ones. They had no sympathy for angels. Within a few days, most had the deaths they’d begged for.” He paused for a moment and I slipped my hold down his arm to take his hand. “I wish I’d let them freeze to death in the Empyrean.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes before I prodded him to continue. “So how did you come to be in the palace?”
“The Liberationists opened the doors when they took the city. Let everyone out. When I heard you’d brought an army of Virtues and surrendered, I offered myself to the cause. I figured revolution was better than living under Aeval, and I thought I’d fight a bit and then head for Raqia and find a portal to go home. I was assigned to the palace, and that’s where Lively saw me this morning. She told me about Helga’s deception and said she needed to get you to your men to tell them there was no alliance.”