Descent07 - Paradise Damned (13 page)

He finally looked at Metaraon. Adam was ancient and withered, His face twisted by deep furrows. And Adam’s body was fading—Metaraon could see the chair behind Him.

Yet when Adam smiled at Metaraon, it filled him with glorious warmth.

“A son,” He said.

Eve nodded encouragingly. “Yes, Adam.”

“I am Metaraon,” he said, bowing low to show his respect. It seemed the right thing to do, and he knew that his guess was correct when he felt Eve’s pleasure.

But Adam rose from the throne to embrace Metaraon. “I am not your superior, and you should never bow to me,” He said. “We will be as family, the three of us—for all of eternity.”

3504 BCE

Eve wasn’t with
Metaraon the morning that he tended the eggs in the nursery, but she would be there soon—of that he had no doubt. Eve hadn’t missed a single birth since the day when she had lifted Metaraon from the amniotic fluid, and because she hadn’t missed any, Metaraon hadn’t, either. He almost never left her side.

He walked among the eggs to reassure them that they were not alone. The song of life hummed through the nursery. The blood of the Tree created his angelic brethren, nurtured them, and gave spirit to the lifeless; it sounded like the entire chorus of Eden distilled to its basest parts.

A soft
crack
told him that one of the eggs was breaking elsewhere in the cavern, and it was soon echoed twice. Three of the eggs were opening.

Where was Eve?

When Metaraon heard the beating of wings against air he thought that Eve had arrived at long last. He turned to greet her with his arms wide and a smile on his face.

But it was not Eve.

Adam strode down the path underneath the Tree, flanked on either side by a pair of His most loyal angels: Nashriel and Leliel. They were at their full glory that morning, radiating with ethereal light that only grew stronger in His presence, and both of them bore swords.

Something about Adam had changed, and it wasn’t only that He had taken on a new, younger body again—clearly the work of Lilith. There was less humanity in His eyes than ever before.

Metaraon moved to intercept them. “What is the meaning of this? There are to be no weapons in the nursery.”

Adam ignored him. “Destroy them all.”

Nashriel plunged the blade of his sword into the nearest egg.

The heavenly chorus that filled the cavern under the Tree turned sour. Silver fluid gushed out of the wound, pulsing in time with the dying heart inside.

Metaraon lunged at Nashriel. “No!”

Adam caught him by the shoulders. Metaraon was strong, but not stronger than God, and he was helpless in His grip. Metaraon had never feared Adam before—He was his father, Eve’s husband, a figure of awe—but he feared Him now.

“This is my will,” He said. “So shall it be done.”

Nashriel went from egg to egg, shattering each of them in turn. Metaraon’s heart broke as he watched them all die. So many of them had been on the verge of birthing—hundreds of lives on the brink of emergence. And now his brothers and sisters were being crushed within their eggs.

Leliel didn’t follow Nashriel. Her eyes widened with horror. “What are you doing?” she asked, spinning on Him. “Those are my brothers!”

“And I told you to destroy them. Do you defy me?”

She gaped. “No, my Lord, but…this is her life’s work,” Leliel said.

Adam’s glare was becoming dangerous. A storm was gathering behind Him, formed of crackling energy, and He seemed to grow in size as Metaraon watched.

Nashriel continued to move among the eggs, destroying each of them in turn.

Leliel threw down her sword. “I will not do it,” she said, taking flight. “This is wrong, and Eve would not stand for this!”

She flew from the cavern at full speed, leaving Metaraon alone. Nashriel was moving quickly. It would be only moments before centuries of Eve’s hard work was gone completely.

Metaraon couldn’t wait for Leliel to retrieve Eve—he had to do something about it
now.

He seized Leliel’s sword and swung it at Him.

As soon as he made it within arm’s reach of Him, Adam closed a hand on his throat, crushing his esophagus instantly.

Metaraon gurgled. He sank to his knees before Adam.

“And you,” He said, glowering with the full force of His jealousy. It rippled over Metaraon, as palpable as magma, and just as wounding. “I have tolerated her divided attentions long enough, but no more.
No more
.”

Adam ripped the sword from Metaraon’s grasp. The angel saw death in his Holy Father’s eyes—oblivion. A place without Eve.

Hands clapped onto Metaraon’s shoulders and yanked him away.

Eve pushed Metaraon to safety and leaped in front of Adam, arms flung wide. Her wings shielded Metaraon from His view.

“What are you
doing
?” she demanded, her voice rising in pitch to the point of hysterics. “You said that you were going to terminate the developing angels, not murder the ones I have already birthed!”

“He is obsessed with you,” He said.

“He is our
son
, Adam,” Eve said, seizing one of Metaraon’s hands, and gripping it so hard that his hollow bones creaked. “I made him so that we could love him, the both of us, and he is as loyal to you as he is to me. Would you slaughter your own Voice?”

Adam hesitated, as if considering this. Nashriel destroyed another egg. A muffled cry shook the cavern.

Eve stepped into His arms, resting her cheek to His heart.

“Please, Adam,” she said. “I am yours. You know this.”

Another egg shattered.

“Very well,” He said. “Your living children may stay.”

“
Our
children,” she said softly.

He didn’t seem to hear. “Leave us, Metaraon.”

Metaraon got to his feet, rubbing his healing throat, and considered slaughtering Nashriel where he stood. There were still two eggs remaining, untouched, and two were better than nothing. But Eve’s eyes pleaded with Metaraon. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Leave.”

As always, Metaraon obeyed. But a seed of hatred had been planted deep within him, and it was only the beginning.

Eve and Metaraon
often rested together among the roses once night fell upon Eden; it was the ideal place to watch the stars beyond the branches of the Tree. The vastness of the universe didn’t seem so immense when he rested on the grass with his shoulder against hers.

The night after Adam destroyed the nursery, that was where Metaraon found Eve. She was crying.

“What happened?” he asked. He took her hands, lacing their fingers together.

He wanted an explanation of what had occurred in the nursery, but Eve didn’t seem to hear him. “It’s
her
again,” she said instead. “Lilith. He’s with her tonight. He’s been with her many nights, it seems.”

“He’s a fool,” Metaraon said.

Normally if someone spoke ill of Adam, Eve would stop them. She didn’t make any attempts tonight.

She bowed her head to his shoulder. He could feel her tears on his neck. “She has sculpted an entire race in His image, at His desire,” Eve said. “He treasures their children and destroys mine. Why must I be satisfied with moments of His attention, alone, while He can produce all of humanity with another woman?”

It wasn’t the first time that Eve and Metaraon had had that conversation, but it was the first time that she had overtly complained about Adam. Even as Metaraon shared her sadness, he couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at knowing that she saw how terrible a husband Adam was—
finally
, after so long. And all it had taken was the death of a few dozen angels.

He stroked her hair, which fell between her wings in a glossy crimson wave. “He’s a fool,” Metaraon repeated, more firmly than before. “An egotistical madman. This new race, these
humans
, will amount to nothing. Lilith’s creations are primitive in comparison to yours. We will start over. We will make more. And we will dominate with them.”

“I don’t understand why they can’t all live together,” Eve said. “My angels, His humans, her demons.” Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks. “He told me that my children were a waste, Metaraon!”

And Adam surely included Metaraon among that number. Anger burned in his throat.

Eve lifted her eyes to his, cupping his cheeks in her hands. Her pale blue eyes shimmered with tears.

“You are proof that my angels are perfection,” she whispered with fierce confidence, tracing his eyebrows, the line of his cheeks, his jaw, the indentation below his lips. “You are sublime, Metaraon. Nothing He says will ever convince me otherwise.”

Should all the air vanish from Eden, the apples shrivel on the branches of the Tree, and Mnemosyne dry in its banks, Metaraon thought that he could survive on nothing but that kind of love.

“Everything you touch is perfect,” Metaraon said. He kissed the salt from her cheeks.

Then, on impulse, he kissed her lips.

It was only the briefest of touches, but it was enough. Eve jerked back from him, wide-eyed with shock. Her fingers flew to her mouth. “Oh, Metaraon,” she said. “You can’t do that. Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping to wipe the fear from her eyes, but it was a lie. He wasn’t sorry. He had contemplated doing that for hundreds of years, and he would gladly do it again. “I had only thought, after what He’s done…”

“I love Him.”

“You say that because you must,” Metaraon said. “You fear Him and His listening ears. But it’s not the truth. If He had never dipped into the Origin—”

She silenced him with a hand on his mouth. “You are His knight, His right hand, His Voice. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that means that He will not kill you if He feels betrayed.”

“How is it a betrayal? I am made for you, and you don’t love—”

Eve pressed her hand harder against him, shaking her head.

She glanced around the rose bushes as if afraid He could be watching. Metaraon was confident that He was not. That wasn’t to say that He
couldn’t
be watching; that accursed omnipresence meant that He was certainly capable. But He was often too distracted by Lilith during His evenings now, and if He had seen Metaraon kiss Eve, He would have been there within heartbeats.

When she settled back, the fear in her eyes had only grown.

“I won’t let Him kill you, Metaraon,” she said. “But please, don’t make it more difficult for me to protect you.”

Eve embraced him, wrapping her arms and wings around his body. Metaraon took deep breaths of her hair, the sweet apple scent, and was intoxicated.

“I love you, Eve,” he said.

She released him. “And I you,” Eve said. She looked so worried.

Drying her eyes, she took flight, receding quickly to a dark point among the stars.

3242 BCE

Metaraon alighted on
the edge of Eden, and at first, it didn’t even occur to him that the garden was burning. In the war on Earth, the cities were on fire more often than not; anywhere that infernal forces touched left the land smoldering. The smell of burning flesh was so common now that it never seemed to leave his nose.

But this was not an ordinary battleground on Earth, nor was it Zebul or Shamain under demonic assault. This was Eden, the garden—the place where Eve should have been safe.

Metaraon’s heart dropped into his stomach as he took in the sight of the Tree’s glorious branches, shimmering with flame instead of sparkling leaves. A dry riverbed wound through the smoking orchard. He smelled no apples, no moist soil—only death.

Had Lilith returned to conquer?

When Adam had ordered her to destroy her many demons, much the way that He had destroyed Eve’s children, Lilith had refused. And she hadn’t taken the order kindly.

That soulless cunt had no mercy. Her war seemed as if it would never end. She killed humans and angels alike and laughed as she bathed in their blood.

If Lilith slaughtered Eve, it would cut Adam deeper than any number of human deaths.

Metaraon’s fear mounted.

“Eve!” he shouted, whipping his wings wide to soar over the garden.

He found a cherub dead underneath a grapevine—its throat a ragged gash, heart torn from its chest. Blood drenched the surrounding earth. Its flaming sword was missing.

Metaraon didn’t care for one dead angel. But when he found the second farther along the path, worry hardened in his core.

This one still held her sword gripped to her chest. She had obviously killed by another blade, and the burns on her stomach made Metaraon think that the deadly wounds must have been delivered by the missing sword.

He pried her weapon from her stiff fingers and ignited it.

Two of Eden’s guards, gone.

“Eve!” he cried again, more desperately than before. He pumped his wings, flying over the black corpses of the other cherubim. Almost a dozen of them were scattered over the grounds. But there were no demons, nor imprints of cloven hoofs to show where they had trodden.

Between two roots, where Mnemosyne should have flowed, the ground was barren.

That was where he found her.

“Eve!”

Metaraon fell to his knees beside Eve. He dropped the flaming sword before pulling her into his arms. Her head hung over his arm, muscles limp. Those beautiful eyes were closed. Her right wing was bent. The feathers were loosed from their moorings, forming a blanket around them.

Eve’s gown was ripped down the neck, baring her skin to the navel. Her heart had been cut from her chest, much like the other dead angels in the garden.

This was not Lilith’s work at all.

His hand hovered over her lips, seeking breath that wasn’t there. When he didn’t find it, Metaraon pressed his mouth to hers, his eyes squeezed shut, and imagined breathing life back into her. He prayed to a higher god that didn’t exist.

Her absent heart did not beat, and neither did his. He could feel it shriveling within his chest.

“Eve,” he moaned to the burning Tree.

It groaned in sympathy, roots shaking deep within the earth.

Angels were eternal. Metaraon and Eve should have been together until the universe blinked out of existence, and beyond. He had been making plans for everything they could do together after Lilith’s war ended.