“Coming!” Max’s voice was muted, as if he was behind a closed, heavy door.
“So, I’ll make tea for us all and it’l be tepid by the time he emerges from his den of technology,” Minnie said cheerful y. She led the way into her spacious kitchen, gesturing at the stools set at the breakfast bar. “Take a seat.”
They did so, Gabriel resting his elbows on the Formica of the counter. “How’s life been treating you two, then?”
“Not too bad,” Minnie said as she began to make tea. “Max is finishing up a job at the moment, and I’ve been teaching a couple of Mike’s Venatores. The cat’s getting fatter, and we seem to have been adopted by a pony, who earns his keep by eating the weeds.”
“A pony?” Gabriel laughed.
“Yeah, I don’t even know. He just walked into the backyard through the gate one morning six months ago and hasn’t left. No one’s claimed him, so now we have Avon the pony.”
“What sort of a pony is he?” Samael asked.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I think he’s a Shetland crossed with something else. He’s quite sweet, actually. I’m quite glad no one claimed him.” Minnie brought the teapot and cups over to the breakfast bar, then went to get sugar and a carton of milk. She returned and placed them on the breakfast bar. “Help yourselves.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel said. Samael inclined his head in gratitude.
“So what’s the emergency?” Minnie asked as she leaned against the wall, holding her own cup of tea.
Gabriel took a sip of his tea, and after he’d swallowed, he filled her in on the goings-on as he knew them. Minnie’s expression changed from incredulous to horrified as he spoke. Finally, when he finished, she set down her cup and shook her head.
“That’s fucked-up,” she said seriously. “So this place was like a Frankenstein’s laboratory of pain?”
“That is essentially it, kind lady,” Samael said.
“Damn.” She shook her head. “I’m going to drag Max out here. He needs to hear this.” She bustled out of the kitchen, a look of determination on her face.
“She is a very good woman,” Samael said to Gabriel.
“Aye, I like her. I bet you were stunned when she curtseyed to you, though.”
Samael chuckled softly. “Indeed. Though more than that, her kindness and lack of fear were welcome.”
Gabriel laid a hand on Samael’s shoulder in silent support. He wasn’t really sure what to say to that; Samael knew how he felt, anyway.
Gabriel had never made it a secret that he found the way people reacted to the Archangel of Death to be more than a little over the top. Some angels reacted in the same way as the humans, fearful of Samael’s powers, and Gabriel found the fear they exhibited to be more than a little inappropriate.
Death went hand in hand with life, that’s just how it was.
Minnie came back into the kitchen with Max and introduced him to Samael. Max didn’t genuflect, but he did shake Samael’s hand firmly, smiling warmly as he greeted him. Gabriel was privately pleased to see it—Samael rarely was met with such warmth and acceptance. Samael himself was smiling as well, a brighter, happier smile than Gabriel remembered seeing for centuries on his handsome black face.
“Min filled me in,” Max said, then pulled a face. “And I didn’t mean to rhyme that, sorry, babe.”
Minnie laughed. “That’s all right. I’m sure I can come up with a cheesy rhyme for you.”
“Aw, you’re too kind.” Max winked at her, then turned back to Gabriel and Samael. “Of course we’ll do whatever we can to help.
Transom Corp, Minnie said was behind this?”
“Aye. Here’s a diary that Declan and Liam found. I made copies; I figured you two would be able to use one.” Gabriel slid the book over the breakfast bar.
Max picked it up and leafed through it. His face was wreathed in a frown, his brows knitted together as he read bits and pieces of the contents. “The Betterment Project? I’ve never heard of that. It seems like the sort of thing that someone would mention at least once on the Internet, and the name’s so bloody ridiculous, it’d stick out.”
“That’s a point,” Gabriel said. “I was wondering if you’d seen anything.”
“No.” Max shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t. I can dig into this. You want whatever I find?”
“Absolutely. And if you could make four extra copies, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure, no worries. Who am I making the copies for?”
Gabriel grinned at him. “I decided that Tzadkiel and his two lieutenants will need one; Raziel, of course; the Venatores pack, Declan, and Liam can have ours after Michael and I have read through it; and the last copy is for Adramelek, Ondrass, and Lucifer.”
Max looked at him sharply. “I’m sorry, did you say one’s for Lucifer? Satan? The Devil? That Lucifer?”
“One and the same,” Gabriel said.
“Bloody hell. I’m doing research for Satan.” Max shook his head then he started to laugh. “I need him to write me a reference on my research skills. Do you think he would?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Ask him. Include a note on his copy.”
“I will.”
Minnie shook her head as well. “I don’t think any of your prospective clients would believe that one of your satisfied customers was Lucifer Morningstar, babe.”
“Maybe not, but a lot of other people will, and it’ll add to my reputation.” Max handed the diary over to her and reached out to pick up a cup of tea. “So this place, it was bad, huh?”
“We could not enter, due to the symbols and sigils that forbade us to see anything beyond the superficial exterior,” Samael said. “But it was clear from the spirits I guided to Heaven and the two whom I took to Purgatory that what we have uncovered is far worse than anything anyone has seen since perhaps the second war.”
“You mean the Second World War?” Max asked.
“No. Forgive me, I was not clear. The second war of existence. After the war in Heaven, there was a period of peace on Earth. And then there was a second war, when Lucifer sent his armies up from Hell to try to wrest control of the newly formed planet and its creatures from us.”
Minnie and Max shared a look. Then she turned to Gabriel and Samael. “That war doesn’t get a lot of press.”
“Few would speak of it,” Samael said with a shrug. “It is, however, what led to Raziel and Uriel constructing the city of Eden.”
“I thought it was a garden,” Max said.
“It has a garden, aye,” Gabriel said. “The most beautiful garden ever to exist, in the most magnificent city ever built. Nothing built yet compares. And it’s still there, just hidden.”
“Wow,” Max said. “I’m glad I know you guys, because if I didn’t and if we hadn’t just got through a Holy Grail situation—which is a phrase I never thought I’d say—I’d think you were joshing me.”
“Excuse me, but what is joshing?” Samael asked.
“Teasing, kidding, that sort of thing,” Gabriel said.
“Ah, I see.” Samael sipped his tea. “Language shifts are so interesting, are they not?”
“Aye, I reckon so. Michael gets awful confused, though.”
Samael smiled at that. “I wager a large part of that is acting. He knows well enough what much of the slang of the peoples of the world means; he simply chooses to behave as if he doesn’t because he knows that you find it adorable, Gabriel.”
Gabriel felt his cheeks heat. “Well, I do find it adorable. And what a sneaky bugger! I had no idea!”
“Is that not why he chastises you so frequently for bad language as well?” Samael asked, the smile on his face gentle.
Gabriel opened his mouth, then closed it. He laughed. “Aye, most likely. I’ll have to remind him of that when I go and find him. Best not to let him wallow in self-loathing for too long.”
“Why’s he full of self-loathing?” Minnie asked.
“Because Michael feels everything very deeply, and he is of the
belief that all that transpired in the town of Yaak, particularly the injuries to his Venatores, is his fault,” Samael said. “Of course, it is not his fault, but Michael takes these things very personally. He always has.”
“Huh. I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that—he does give off that sense that he doesn’t just weep for the pain of humanity, that he feels it all deep in his heart as well.” She gave Gabriel a sympathetic look. “Good luck with getting him to understand this isn’t on him, Gabe. I think you’ll need it.” She turned her attention to the diary, turning it over and over in her hands. “Is this the copy, Gabe? Or the original?”
“Copy.”
“Hm. You did a good job; you copied the magic signature on it as well as the diary itself.”
“Is there one?” Gabriel asked. “I couldn’t feel a thing.”
“Because it’s protected against you. I have a feeling I’m going to find a lot of things in here that you haven’t seen because of that. I’ll need to work on it a bit. You can have it after I’m done,” she said to Max. “Do your research on the names you have while I mojo it.”
He gave her a sloppy salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What sort of magic can you feel on it?” Gabriel asked. “Can you get a sense of where it came from?”
Minnie pursed her lips, concentrating on the book in her hands.
“Nowhere supernatural. Not Heaven or Hell or Purgatory. I hate to say it, Gabe, but I think this whole thing is entirely devised and run by human beings. This isn’t going to be like Bob Taytton and his megalomania that set off the Seventy Years War or Naamah the Succubus stealing the Holy Grail—this is going to be all on humanity.”
“Fucking hell.” Gabriel sighed. “Just great.”
“You lot have to let us grow up sometime,” Max said. Gabriel had a sense of déjà vu at his words. “And sadly, that means that some of the things humans do are going to be really fucking awful, beyond anything you Heavenly or Hellish beings could imagine. Which is weird, to think it’s more awful than anything that could come out of Hell. I mean, it’s Hell. It has to be awful, right?”
“Some of it isn’t,” Gabriel said. “Lucifer’s got a pretty nice palace down there, and the Archdemons have rather exotic homes in their domains. I think Adramelek’s is a nineteenth-century Russian dacha and Ondrass has got a Song Dynasty palace.”
“He’s a weird one, that Ondrass,” Minnie said in what Gabriel thought was quite possibly the world’s grossest understatement. “I liked him, though. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could comfortably spit a dead rat, but I liked him.”
They all laughed at that.
“What a colorful phrase,” Gabriel said. “I’ll have to use that myself.”
“Feel free. One of my friends says it all the time, I picked it up from her.” Minnie patted the book. “Are we on a timetable for this?”
“Not officially, but I reckon since we got Mount Doom de-sigiled, it’s not a matter of urgency,” Gabriel said. “But I wouldn’t dawdle, either.”
“Good use of the Lord of the Rings reference,” Max said.
“I love pop culture,” Gabriel said with a shrug.
“Archangel Brat and Nerd,” Minnie teased.
Gabriel nodded and poured himself another cup of tea. “Aye, I’m very complex, me.”
That was met with resounding laughter. “My dear Gabriel,” Samael said, “you are many things, but you are not as complex as some of our Brotherhood. Consider Raziel: he is the most complex of us all. Tzadkiel is not far behind.”
Gabriel grinned at him. “I’m telling them you said that.”
Samael chuckled. “They will take it as a compliment.”
“Probably, aye.” Gabriel picked up his cup and drained the contents in one long swallow. He set the cup back down and stood. “And now I better go and hunt down my more unhappy half before he decides to take a vow of silence and spend the next ten years in a monastery somewhere.”
“Has Michael ever done that?” Max asked.
“Aye, several times.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “I’d like to catch him beforehand this time.”
“You’l stay for a while, though, won’t you, Samael?” Minnie asked. “I would love to show you around our home and introduce you to our pets.”
Samael inclined his head to her. “It would be my great honor to stay awhile, Miss Minnie.”
She touched his hand lightly. “Just Minnie is fine.”
“As you prefer.”
“Then I’ll see you three later,” Gabriel said. “You still got the shields up so I can’t ’port out direct?”
“Yes. We thought that was for the best,” Max said.
“Aye, I reckon it is.” Gabriel nodded. “I’ll see myself out.” With that, he left the kitchen, walking through the house and out of the front door and into the garden. He took long, quick strides down the path that led to the wall and front gate, and let himself out onto the sidewalk. As he latched the gate closed behind him, he reached out with his power, seeking the familiar pattern of Michael’s aura and the touch of his mind.
He had half suspected that Michael would be somewhere in Asia, and so he wasn’t terribly surprised to find that he’d gone to Korea.
Michael felt a great affinity for Korea, although his current form was Chinese.
Michael was in the foothills of Mount Bigyesan in southeast Korea, sitting with his knees drawn up under his chin. When Gabriel sat down beside him, Michael tensed, and Gabriel let out a soft sigh. He had a feeling this was not going to go well.
“Before you say anything, Gabriel, I must warn you that I am not in the mood for platitudes or for any excuses for my own conduct. I am aware of what I have done and now all that remains is for God to pass His judgment upon my lapses. I am awaiting His orders now.”
Gabriel blinked, mentally thrown off-balance by Michael’s words.
“What are you on about?”
Michael turned to face Gabriel, though he didn’t look him in the eye. “I have reported my shortcomings and failures to protect my people and your Necromancer and his brother to God. I asked that He consider the gravity of the situation with sensitivity when He determined what my punishment would be.”
“Did you get hit on the head by a very large rock?” Gabriel demanded.
He was suddenly angry. “You ain’t at fault here. I ain’t going to waste my breath explaining it al to you again or in the simplest fucking words and phrases I know, because you won’t listen to me anyway. Which is just fucking awesome, considering I’m your bondmate and the one you should fucking listen to. God won’t punish you. He’s probably sitting upstairs with His face in His hands, sighing and muttering, ‘Oh, Michael,’ in despair at your eagerness to flagellate yourself over something out of your control.”
Michael looked up, meeting Gabriel’s eyes. “I am aware what I have done, thank you. It is my own fault for growing too complacent and, indeed, for allowing myself to be drawn away from my duties by you. I should not have shirked them as much as I have to indulge myself in carnal pleasures, even though I love you and we are bonded and more than married. Do not lecture me, Gabriel. I know what I am doing.”
Gabriel felt cold as a chill tore through him. “What?”
“We will have to restrict how much time we spend together. We have both been remiss in doing our duties properly since we became bonded. I am aware that we did a great many things beyond what some might have seen as being needful during the Seventy Years War, and those were necessary, sacrifices and decisions made for the greater good rather than a select few for example, but now, with this situation, it is clear to me that we must indulge ourselves less and work more.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw, biting back the words of fury that might do more harm than good. He’d seen Michael like this before, he reminded himself, usually after there’d been a catastrophe of some kind involving a lot of humans dying in battle with demons. Gabriel spent several minutes composing himself so he’d be able to
speak in as even a tone as possible, and then got to his feet.
“If that’s the way you want it, sir,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the honorific. “Good day.” He gave Michael a crisp salute—Michael wouldn’t be able to fault his military manner, at the very least—and before Michael could say anything, Gabriel blipped out, teleporting far, far away.
He found himself in the unruly backyard of Michael’s house where the Venatores lived, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply and willing his temper down. Yes, he was angry, but more than that, he was worried.
Michael’s retreat to duty and God’s punishment—though Gabriel suspected the punishment wouldn’t be much at all—was something that Gabriel hadn’t seen his beloved do for years. He was also a little hurt. “Indulging themselves,” indeed. What a pile of steaming bullshit that was! People in love did tend to indulge themselves. That was part of the damn point!
He clenched and unclenched his fists several times and took a deep breath. He should see how things were going with Declan and Liam, and see if Raphael had good news on Danny and Baxter.
Taking another deep breath, Gabriel walked through the garden toward the back door of the house. Idly, he wondered if any of the Venatores would be in the mood to get blind, stinking drunk, but as soon as he had the thought, he realized that would only make Michael angry and blame him, Gabriel, for corrupting the fragile, delicate petals of innocence that made up Venatores Inc. Another steaming pile of bullshit.
He reached the door just as Angelique came out. She was holding a bottle of beer and looked tired.
“Hey, Gabe,” she said. Then she looked closer at him. “You look like shit. Want a beer?”
“Hey, thanks, and yeah, cheers, in that order.”
“Have a fight with your wife, huh?”
Gabriel allowed himself a small smile. “Michael’s in a snit because he thinks he’s the reason all that shit went down at Yaak.”
“Michael worries too damn much. He isn’t our fucking mother. He’s our fucking boss.”
Archangel Chronicles 7 - Shot In the Dark Page 16