A Fire in the Heart

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “When did she get the animals?” Uriel asked.

  “No idea,” Raziel said. The animals watched them as they walked up to the door, and as Ondrass knocked, Raziel looked around the garden. It was, as always, well-tended, neatly trimmed lawns and carefully pruned plants speaking louder than words that the resident of this house took their garden very seriously.

  And then the door opened, and Minnie stood there, smiling warmly. “Hi,” she said. “Lord Ondrass, it’s good to see you again. And you are….”

  “Adramelek,” Adramelek said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Minnie.”

  Minnie’s eyes had grown round as saucers. “Adramelek, King of Fire? Minister and Chancellor of the Order of the Fly? President of the Guild of Glass Knives?”

  Adramelek gave her a courtly bow. “The one and only.”

  “Crap. I mean, wow.”

  Ondrass laughed. “Your reputation precedes you, Adry.”

  “Doesn’t it always?” Adramelek looked at Minnie and smiled. “You and yours have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Um, okay. I’ll take your word for it. Sir.” Minnie looked very nervous.

  “I feel like a flunky compared to your obvious epic reputation,” Ondrass said.

  Adramelek rolled his eyes. “Spare me, Lord of Discord.”

  “Can we stop this pissing competition of who has the bigger or the most titles?” Uriel demanded. “Because you two lose compared to Raz and me.”

  “Uri!” Minnie cried then, and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him.

  “Hello there, Minnie,” Uriel said, and Raziel saw a small smile on his beloved’s face as Uriel hugged Minnie back, then picked her up and spun her in a circle before setting her down.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she said. “It’s been ages.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s been busy.”

  “I know.” Minnie turned to Raziel and hugged him as well. “Hi, Raz.”

  “Hi yourself, Minnie.” Raziel kissed her cheek. “So, we’re all here….”

  “Yes, yes, you are. Sorry, I’m still a bit stunned to have just met Adramelek.” She shook her head. “Come inside.”

  “When did you get a pony, a duck, and a sheep?” Uriel asked. “Is the sheep or the duck going to be dinner?”

  “Uri!” Minnie lightly smacked his arm. “The lamb’s name is Jeff, and no, he’s not dinner. He’s an orphan, and there was no home for him, so I took him. He and Avon the pony are best friends. And the pony’s also an orphan, but he adopted us. He walked into the garden a little while ago and stayed. And the duck is a drake, and his name is Francis.” The last was said very solemnly.

  It took a moment, but when Raziel made the connection he burst out laughing. “Francis the drake? As in Sir Francis Drake?”

  “Of course.” Minnie grinned at him. “It makes me laugh every time I say it.”

  “How does the cat like sharing his territory with a pony, a duck, and a sheep?” Raziel asked, recovering from his laughter, even as his companions started to chuckle.

  “Oh, he doesn’t seem to care, really. The animals don’t try to sleep on the bed, so he’s not fussed.” Minnie grinned and led them all into the house. “Max is making tea, so come in, sit down, and make yourselves at home.”

  “Thank you,” Ondrass said, inclining his head. “You’re very kind. Most witches wouldn’t have Adramelek and myself in their city, let alone in their house.”

  “And probably with good reason,” Minnie said. “But we’re all allies, aren’t we? So you’re welcome here.”

  “Indeed we are. Your attitude is pleasantly refreshing,” Adramelek said.

  Max came out of the kitchen then, carrying a tray with a large teapot, surrounded by cups, a milk jug, and sugar bowl. “Hello, guys,” he said, moving to set the tray down on the large coffee table. “Ondrass, how are you?” he extended his hand, and Ondrass shook it. “Raz, hey.” Raziel grinned at him, and as Max gave him a quick hug, he returned it. Max greeted Uriel in the same way, and then turned to look at Adramelek.

  “Do you want to announce me?” Adramelek said to Ondrass. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  Ondrass sighed. “I bitterly regret bringing you with me. Max, may I present his lordship, Adramelek, King of Fire, Chancellor and Minister of the Order of the Fly, and President of the Guild of Glass Knives. Adry, this is Max, Minnie’s partner.”

  Max was staring at Adramelek. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’re a legend.”

  “One does have a certain reputation,” Adramelek said, buffing his nails on his coat.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Uriel said.

  “I am, yes. It’s so rare that I’m treated with good manners, Uriel. You should know what that feels like, given your own tendency toward rudeness.”

  “Sorry. I was a bit… never mind.” Max shook his head. “Please, have a seat. Help yourself to tea.”

  They did so, and Raziel, once he’d made himself a cup of tea the way he liked it, sat back and said, “So what did you two find out?”

  “I hacked into the back end of the database of their employee files,” Max said. He laughed. “They have terrible security, so it wasn’t that hard. I left them a little present when I backed out, but they’ll have no idea I was even there.”

  “What did you leave them?” Uriel asked.

  “A virus. Not a bad one, just one to give them a bit of a headache. I thought it’d be better to leave their system more or less intact, in case I need to get back into it later.”

  “Wise move,” Raziel said.

  “I thought so. Anyway, I got their employee list, which is on this USB stick,” and Max held it out to Raziel. Raziel took it and nodded his thanks. “But we were looking through the list of names on it, and we got a bit of a nasty surprise.”

  “Oh?” Ondrass asked.

  Minnie’s expression had become grim. “I recognized quite a few of the names. Well, all right, a dozen of them. They’re witches.”

  Raziel hissed in surprise as Uriel swore and Ondrass growled. But Adramelek leaned forward and asked, “What traditions do these witches follow?”

  “Now that is a very interesting question. They’re all disgraced—I had to follow up with a friend down in the city, and she had the most epic of rants when I told her. They’re all hedge witches, either thrown out of covens in the UK, Australia, the US, and Canada, or wannabe members of a coven. One of them is from Taiwan. They got together, formed a new coven, and sold their services to the highest bidder.”

  “Our friends at Transom Corp.,” Raziel said.

  “Right. And they’re being paid a bloody lot of money for what they’re doing.”

  “Which is?” Uriel asked.

  “They’re working on a magical sphere to cover the planet so that when they set their plan in motion to lock you all out of Earth, you’ll die if you try to come back in.”

  Uriel scoffed at that. “Human magic can’t do that.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Raziel said thoughtfully. “It’s possible that between this coven and Transom—TCC—whatever, they might have come up with something that could actually hurt us.”

  Adramelek scowled. “I really want to rip off these people’s heads and spit down their necks. Apologies for the graphic description, Minnie.”

  Minnie shook her head. “I’ve heard worse.”

  “We’re going to stop them, aren’t we?” Max asked.

  “Damn right we are,” Uriel said.

  “Yes,” Raziel agreed.

  “I do have a suggestion, but I don’t think you’ll like it,” Minnie said.

  “What is it?” Raziel asked.

  “Well, you’ve got Archdemon allies, right? When you get around to taking down this company, those witches are going to launch a psychic attack. They’ll fight with everything they’ve got. But I don’t think they really believe that Archangels and Archdemons can actually work together without killing each ot
her in a battle of mutual hate and attrition. So, they won’t expect Archdemon powers to be present.”

  “I see where you’re going with this,” Adramelek said. “You think that the Guild of Glass Knives can use our combined powers to incapacitate them.”

  “Yeah. Maybe a little more than incapacitate, though.” Minnie looked uneasy.

  “You think we should destroy their souls,” Ondrass said quietly.

  Raziel whistled. “Holy fuck.”

  But Uriel looked thoughtful. “They’ve committed great crimes against humanity and free will, yes?” As Minnie nodded, he did too. “Thought so. So really, Tzadkiel would judge them to go to Hell upon their deaths anyway.”

  “You want to skip the judgment part of the whole dying thing?” Raziel asked him.

  “Raz, I don’t want to be shut out of this planet. I actually really love it here. Carbon apes are a pain in the butt, mostly, but this planet is beautiful. If these witches hate us so much—and not just us, come on, shifters, monsters, demons too—then fuck ’em.”

  Raziel sat back in his seat. “Michael won’t like it.”

  “Don’t tell him,” Ondrass said. “The prince rarely likes anything.”

  “He really hates you calling him that,” Raziel said.

  “I know. That’s why I do it.” Ondrass grinned at him.

  “Listen, give us a few days to run this past the Judgment Archangels, namely Tzadkiel and Metatron. Then we can take it to the others.” Raziel sighed. “I don’t disagree, in theory, but we’ll need to be absolutely certain that these human witches are involved willingly in doing this. Even though a lot of their energies and powers come from the gifts of those who are not human at all.”

  “That’s the unpleasant irony, isn’t it?” Adramelek mused. “Many of them work in our names. They call upon us to help them. And not just us, but loa, spirits, ghosts, and many, many more. What this group is doing is actually counter to what they are.”

  “That’s why my friend was so angry,” Minnie said. “Although enraged is probably closer. And then she said that only an idiot tries to cage an Archdemon and force him or her to do their bidding.”

  “Good manners are key,” Max said. “As in all parts of life.”

  “You two and your friend are very wise,” Ondrass said. “And I, for one, appreciate the courtesy.”

  “These are good people, Ondrass,” Raziel said.

  “Yes, I can see that. Just as Lyudmila and her loved ones and pack back in Armenia, just like Angelique’s pack and Minnie and Max’s friend in the city. Not all humans are useless, Raziel. Not all of them are evil. The enlightened ones, such as those I have listed, are fully aware that all of creation is black, white, and gray. There is as much gray as anything else, and morality is far more complicated than some would like to believe.”

  “I agree with you,” Raziel said.

  “So do I,” Uriel put in. “Which is why this alliance, as annoying as it is sometimes, works.”

  “Agreed,” Adramelek said.

  “Do we need to rush back to Oregon?” Ondrass asked.

  “No, we need to talk to Tzad and Metatron,” Raziel said.

  “And I need to speak with Lightbringer,” Adramelek said.

  Ondrass nodded. “All right. Max,” he turned to the hacker, “if you see in your online wanderings a company called Youdu Industries, don’t panic. That’s my business.”

  Max nodded. “Gotcha.”

  “And we should go,” Raziel said. “Thanks for this, you two. We really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome,” Minnie said.

  “Anytime, guys,” Max added.

  9

  AHIJAH WALKED beside Samael down the street in Gadsden, Alabama, feeling the weight of many eyes on him. Across the road, loitering at a corner beside a run-down shop advertising fresh bread for sale, a group of youths—white, black, Korean, and Latino—sat or stood and glared at them with open hostility. A little farther down the street, an old man stood in his doorway, holding a shotgun, and farther still, another group of youths watched them while sitting on rusty bicycles. There was an aura of distrust and unfriendliness here, a sense of deep suspicion and anger, and Ahijah didn’t like it one bit.

  “This isn’t a good place for a kid to grow up,” he muttered to Samael.

  “We do not know that for certain. What we are seeing is the face these people present to strangers. We do not know that is the face they maintain with each other, when they feel comfortable and safe.” Samael smiled at him. “We must not judge.”

  Ahijah grunted at that, although he thought that Samael was wrong. This part of Gadsden was, they’d been told, very poor, with high unemployment, low school graduate numbers, and high rates of crime. Drugs were sold freely here, and there was a lot of gang-related violence. Ahijah was convinced that this was no place for a child at all. As the newspapers said, things in Gadsden had changed considerably since the war, and not for the better.

  That could be said about a lot of places on Earth, but Ahijah was fairly certain most of them didn’t turn to drugs and violence. It was pretty, though: a green landscape with trees and high grass, wildflowers growing in profusion along with weeds, and a crisp tinge in the cool, fresh air. There was the scent of smoke from cook fires, and that added an earthy, homey aroma to the air.

  “We are here,” Samael announced, and Ahijah turned his attention away from the people on the street to the house that Samael was facing.

  It was a small house, made of weatherboard covered in peeling white paint, with a broken iron gate sitting askew on rusty hinges and a path that was thick with weeds and grass. A solitary busted tricycle sat in the yard. With a sigh, Ahijah nodded and followed Samael as the Archangel pushed the gate open and walked up the path to the three shallow steps that led to the front porch.

  Samael knocked on the door, which was splintering and covered in a dirty gray paint that peeled in chips and ribbons, pieces of that paint dropping onto the ground with the vibrations of Samael’s knock. There was a grimy rectangular window beside the door, which Ahijah had no doubt was clean enough for residents within to peer through to see who was standing on their porch. His suspicion was proven true as he saw a furtive movement and a flicker of light and shadow through the glass, and then the door opened a crack.

  “What do you want?” It was a man’s voice, gruff and tense with suspicion.

  “Are you the father of Jessica-Mae, good sir?” Samael asked.

  “Yeah. What of it?”

  “May we come in? We have some information about your daughter.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Samael, and my companion is Ahijah.”

  “Weird names. You from that clinic?”

  “No, good sir, we are not.”

  “Then what you want to tell me about my kid? She’s dead. That’s all we know.”

  “We wanted to tell you that her soul is safe and in Heaven,” Samael said.

  The man barked a laugh, harsh and brittle. “Man, there ain’t no Heaven. You die, you rot in the ground.”

  Ahijah placed a hand on Samael’s arm. “Let me,” he said softly.

  Samael nodded and stepped aside. He was upset, Ahijah saw, but now was not the time to deal with it.

  “Sir, we don’t want to open old wounds, but we’re trying to get some information as well. About the clinic and the people who ran it. We’ve lost people there”—not entirely true, but a little white lie won’t hurt—“and we’ve got a few ideas about how to make them pay for all they did.”

  The door opened a little wider. “Who did you lose?”

  Ahijah took a deep breath, pretending to appear as if he were getting control of his emotions. “My nephew and his wife.”

  There was a long silence, and then the door opened all the way. For the first time, Ahijah saw the man who was the father of Jessica-Mae. He was thin and stooped, his black hair peppered with silver, and his eyes were haunted, filled with sadness and an overwhelmi
ng anger. He wore a plain white shirt and dark brown trousers and had threadbare slippers on his feet. Around his neck was a gold chain with a crucifix.

  “Come in,” the man said.

  “Thank you,” Ahijah said.

  With Samael behind him, he entered the house and saw that, unlike the outside, it was neat and clean and well cared for. The walls were a soft blue, and the floors were polished wood; there were framed photographs on the walls, some in color, others in black-and-white. There was a series of doors on either side of the hallway they entered, and the man led them through the nearest one, into the living room.

  There was a woman seated in an armchair, knitting, and beside her, on a settee, was a teenage boy reading a magazine. A dog was lying at his feet, and there was a cat on the back of the settee, the very tip of its tail twitching. The floor was covered with a rug woven with reds and greens, and the furniture, while old, looked very comfortable. A vase of flowers stood on the mantel, and a TV, an old one, sat on a low cabinet in the corner.

  “Have a seat,” the man said, gesturing to a couch and an armchair.

  “Who’s this?” the woman asked.

  “Ahijah and Samael, here to talk about those bastards what killed our girl,” he said.

  The woman’s eyes hardened. “You gonna hurt them back?”

  “That is definitely the plan,” Ahijah said.

  “Good,” she replied. “I’m Rose, and this is my husband, Anthony. That’s our son, Paul, and the dog’s name is Ruben, and the cat’s name is Charlie.” She flashed Ahijah a small smile. “I’m outnumbered by boys.”

  Ahijah chuckled at that. “I bet it’s never quiet, though.”

  This time, Rose laughed a full-bodied laugh that was infectious. “No, that it ain’t. Take a seat, Mr. Ahijah and Mr. Samael. You’re welcome here.”

  “Thank you,” Ahijah said, and he sat on the couch, Samael sitting down beside him.

  “Would you folks care for a cup of coffee?” Rose asked.

  “Thank you,” Ahijah said again. “That would be lovely.”