No Shadows Fall (30 page)

“Haniel probably does.” Uriel was matter-of-fact. “Michael and Gabriel are new bondmates too. The others… no idea. Maybe.”

“Well, we can all talk about it later,” Raziel said.

“Okay.” Companionable silence fell between them, and Uriel idly wove strands of Raziel’s long, dark hair between his fingers. He could feel his lover reaching out stealthily with his power, searching, watching.

“Our Archdemons have showed up,” Raziel said.

Uriel looked up, squinting at the sun as he gauged the time. “It’s around four p.m.”

“We should go down and meet them, then.”

Uriel nodded. “Hide your wings again, baby.”

“I just did.” Raziel’s wings had faded from view. “Now, then, let us go and speak with Snarky and Snarkier.”

Uriel laughed. “Okay.” Without another word, he moved them to a narrow street off the Champs-Élysées, and then the two Archangels walked around the corner and to the café where they were to have their meeting.

“What a charming little café you suggested,” Ondrass said by way of greeting as Uriel and Raziel sat down at the Archdemons’ table. “The coffee is exquisite.”

“I’m so glad you approve,” Raziel chuckled.

“I can see why Azazel chose to settle down in this city,” Ondrass went on. “It’s so wonderfully decadent.”

Raziel quirked an eyebrow. “How did you know about Azazel?”

“Please, Archangel.” Ondrass looked offended, even as Adramelek laughed. “You
have
met me, haven’t you?”

Raziel rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

Uriel had watched the exchange with sardonic amusement. Now, he leaned on the table and said without any preamble, “Your little deal is accepted.”

Adramelek drew in a deep breath. “Lucifer will be pleased.”

“Frankly, I don’t care about him.” Uriel narrowed his eyes and looked at the two Archdemons and Markus who sat quietly beside Ondrass. “I want Semjaza contained. Gabriel might wish that Semjaza was still in Aquila, but he should have killed him in the first place.”

“Isn’t that against Celestial law? Angelcide, that is.” Ondrass looked at Adramelek.

“Don’t look at me,” Adramelek laughed. “I don’t know the intricacies of Celestial law.”

Raziel pursed his lips. “It was, once, but after the expulsion from Eden, that law was lifted. After all, Michael did have to maim quite a few Grigori, and I do believe he killed one or two. Gabriel slaughtered a great number of Nephilim, and then Uriel here proceeded to drown any of them that weren’t dead yet. I don’t think the law was ever returned.”

“Remarkable. Well, I have learned something today.” Ondrass reached inside his overcoat and withdrew a cloth-wrapped object. “Our part of the bargain, then.”

“What is this?” Uriel asked.

“It’s an amulet. Bury it near to where you plan to have your confrontation between Gabriel and Semjaza, and it will do two things. First, it will limit the amount of power that Semjaza can draw from external sources. Second, it will serve as a point of reference for Lucifer to reach out and take Semjaza down into Hell.”

Raziel took the amulet and pocketed it. “Thank you,” he said.

Ondrass shrugged. “Something for something, is that not right?”

“Yes.” Raziel shook his head. “This has been an odd century.”

“They are all odd in their own ways,” Adramelek said. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “Mmm, delicious. Anyway, every year, every month, every day, every moment brings new and unexpected events. If everything were the same, it would be terribly boring, would it not?”

Raziel nodded his agreement, toying with the salt shaker on the table. “True, but I can’t recall a century that has seen us working so closely with you Archdemons.”

“To be sure, that is unusual.” Adramelek smirked suddenly. “But then, how do you know that we aren’t using these happy little meetings to gather intelligence about
you
?”

Uriel hissed. “You son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t say we were, Uriel, so don’t get your tighty-whities in a bunch.” Adramelek’s smirk broadened. “Your reaction, however, was exactly what I thought it would be. You’re so predictable.”

“I wonder if you’ll say that when my sword’s buried in your gut,” Uriel growled.

“Uri.” Raziel placed a hand on Uriel’s arm, and Uriel muttered under his breath and slouched down in his seat. To the Archdemons, Raziel said, “I don’t really care if you do use these little tête-à-têtes as information gathering sessions. Like you just said, everything changes. There’s nothing to say that the way things are now is how they’ll be in a decade’s time. Or even in a week’s time.”

“Touché,” agreed Adramelek. “And now—” He drained the contents of his cup. “—I am afraid we must leave. There is much yet to be done in Hell before Semjaza’s arrival.”

“Give him my warmest regards,” Raziel said maliciously. “Tell him that I do hope he enjoys your exquisite hospitality for the rest of time.”

Ondrass barked a laugh. “I’ll be sure to pass that on to him.”

“Splendid.” Raziel smiled. “I believe we’ll see each other again at some point, although who can say when and where.”

“Probably,” Adramelek agreed as he got to his feet. “Good luck,” he added, his voice now serious.

“Yes.” Ondrass nodded, also standing. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Raziel said.

Uriel grunted.

When the Archdemons and Markus had left, Uriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “They always give me a headache.”

“Never mind,” Raziel said, taking Uriel’s hand in his own. “When we get back to Iona, I’ll give you a massage.”

Uriel smiled crookedly. “I appreciate that, Razzy. You always take good care of me.”

Raziel looked down at their hands and was silent for a long moment. Uriel raised an eyebrow. Finally, Raziel looked up and his blue eyes were hooded.

“If something goes wrong,” Raziel began, “I want you to know that I love you, Uriel. I’ve loved you since… shit. For a very fucking long time, even by angelkind’s standards. I know we irritate each other enormously sometimes, and I know there are days when we simply do not understand each other, but in the end, that doesn’t matter at all. I love you and as far as I’m concerned, there has never been anyone else for me, you grumpy, uncouth, cigar-loving, farting in bed, binge-drinking bastard.”

Uriel laughed. “You silver-tongued rascal,” he teased. He sobered a little, reaching out to curl his free hand around the nape of Raziel’s neck. Very quietly, he said, “I love you too, Razzy. Without you, I’m lost and insane. If you hadn’t been there, I think I’d be in Hell after Eden. I know I’m a damn difficult bastard sometimes, but I’m grateful, and I love you.”

“Babe,” Raziel said, leaning in to give Uriel a quick kiss, “there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for you. So no going to Hell for you. I’d just have to pull you out, and my feathers would end up smelling like brimstone. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get that smell out?”

Uriel burst out laughing. “Okay, fair enough. So, we done with the emotion sharing bullshit?”

“I believe so, yes.” Raziel grinned. “I’m a little surprised you aren’t choking on it, to be honest.”

“Desperate times.” Uriel sighed. “And it’s probably good to say these things once in a while.”

“Agreed.” Raziel sighed in turn. “Let’s go back to Iona.”

“Right.” Uriel used his power to hide what they were doing from the other patrons in the café and moved them straight from Paris to the sacred isle.

G
ABRIEL
STOOD
alone on the moors as dawn colored the sky silver. The clouds seemed tinted with mercury and charcoal in this early light. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward those pewter-colored clouds and quietly sang the last few lines of “Abide With Me.”

A beam of light cut through the clouds, caressing Gabriel’s face with fingers of Holy Benediction. Gabriel smiled at that touch, that Celestial hand that had created him and his kind giving him a silent yet much-needed blessing. As the clouds closed up, the light faded, and the silvery dawn returned to normal.

Opening his eyes, Gabriel squared his shoulders and lowered his head, looking around. From the village, he could see a line of figures
walking toward him, and he knew that it was the rest of his
Brotherhood. It was time.

Gabriel checked the straps of his vambraces, rolled his shoulders to settle the lamellar armor—small hardened leather rectangles laced together to form a cuirass—that he wore over his chain mail, and watched as the Archangels made their way toward him in a stately procession. He ran one gauntleted hand through his hair and adjusted the wool-lined coif that would soon cover his hair and sit beneath the helmet that currently sat at the nape of his neck.

The Archangels were dressed in their traditional clothing—Samael, Tzadkiel, Uriel, and Raziel in simple chain mail, gauntlets, and leather boots, a floor-length plain black linen robe lined in white and gold brocade silk worn over the top and open at the front. Remiel, Haniel, and Metatron wore simple blue wool tunics and trousers with leather boots beneath their own robes. And Michael… Gabriel had to swallow several times at how handsome his lover looked. Michael wore a silver and blue robe with a hardened leather breastplate inlaid with colored lacquer over the top. Matching vambraces were on his arms and greaves upon his legs, and his sword hung sheathed and belted at his hip.

Several paces behind the Archangels came Brieus, Sophiel, Israfel, and Agrat in civilian dress and Shateiel in armor matching Gabriel’s, carrying a banner pole from the top of which flew the pennon of the standard of Heaven and Gabriel’s crest. With them were Hiwa in a simple black suit and Ahijah in his priest’s habit. And finally, came Ishtahar.

Once again, Gabriel was struck by just how beautiful Ishtahar was. Clad in a traditional gown that was similar to the lehenga, dupatta, and choli of India and made of fine purple silk, embellished with silver embroidery, Ishtahar’s bearing was as regal as an empress. Her hands and feet were decorated with henna, the designs interspersed with tiny diamonds stuck to her skin, and the midnight of her hair was bound up in a roll akin to the style of ancient Rome by strings of diamonds and amethyst. Her purple sari was pulled over her shoulders and the back of her head, and her blue eyes were rimmed in kohl, making them appear even larger than usual. She was every inch the High Priestess, every inch a queen.

The way they were all dressed was significant. Gabriel, Warrior General of God, ready for battle, standing poised for the fight with his second-in-command, Shateiel, beside him, holding Gabriel’s banner. Ishtahar was presenting herself as the high priestess of Eden,
not
of Semjaza, and her decision to wear the purple of the nobility of the city rather than the green of the bondage to Semjaza’s will was strategic. It would be a slap in the face to Semjaza, so fixated upon appearances, to see her clad in the color of nobility rather than submission. Hiwa and Ahijah, by choosing not to wear white floor-length tunics to indicate their position as sons of an angel and his human consort, demonstrated that they were their own men; further, Ahijah, in choosing to wear his formal cassock, illustrated his allegiance to all of Heaven, not to Semjaza alone.

Gabriel inclined his head to everyone as they came to a stop in front of him. “Well met,” he said.

“My lord Gabriel,” Ishtahar said, stepping forward, “I have chosen to wear the stones of your heavenly body, the moon, and of Prince Michael’s heavenly body, the sun.” She touched the necklace of milky-white moonstone and shimmering gold sunstone that she wore. “I will not wear any symbol of Semjaza’s house or his rule as it was in Eden. The rule that he so hopes to return to. I, in the presence of these witnesses, present myself to you as High Priestess of Eden and servant to Hashem—God—and His Archangels.”

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Gabriel said sincerely. “And thank you for the compliment in wearing our stones.”

She smiled at him and stepped back. Michael stepped forward then and turned, addressing them. “Is all in readiness?”

“Yes.” Raziel, left hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword, nodded. “I buried the amulet the Archdemons gave us beside the stones of the Stonehenge circle. None noticed my presence.” He smiled faintly. “Semjaza’s busy redecorating the Maryhill Mansion to suit his tastes. He seems to require a great deal of yellow silk and red velvet. It’s all rather pretentious and wanky. I digress, though. Yes, the amulet is buried by the stones, the circle is clear, and Semjaza and his ass-kissing lackey are totally unaware of what we’re up to.”

“I am glad.” Michael smiled back. “Gabriel, are you ready?”

“Aye, ready as I’ll ever be.” Gabriel winked at his lover, and Michael chuckled.

“Good. Shateiel, are you ready to stand as Gabriel’s second?”

“Yes, my lord. I am always ready to stand beside the general in whatever capacity he wishes me to.”
Shateiel bowed gracefully.

Ahijah stepped forward before Michael could say anything else. He held a plain wooden box in his hands. “My lord Gabriel,” he said formally, “would you do my mother, my brother, and myself the honor of wearing our favor, the symbol of our house, in this battle?” He opened the box to reveal a long strip of purple fabric, embroidered with the designs of Eden, Ishtahar, and her sons.