Devil Without a Cause (2 page)

Gabriel was silent for a moment, merely looking into his eyes.

Uncomfortable to find he could not easily meet them, Sammy felt his anger rise.

“Speak and be done with it, damn you,” he ground out. “My patience grows short.”

“Your patience was ever short,” said Gabriel, “as was your humility. Even now you taunt the heavens with your pride and your hubris, establishing yourself within these once hallowed walls”—he gestured toward the vaulted ceiling—“built to proclaim the glory of the One.”

Samael made a noise of disgust. “Solomon built this temple to proclaim his own glory.” He smiled grimly. “His spells and incantations are what keep this temple hidden in plain sight, invisible to the eyes of mortals. He used that same magic to force my demons to build it, so why shouldn’t I use it now that he’s dead?” He shook his head, smiling wryly. “The mighty King Solomon, keeper of all the world’s mysteries, save one—that of death itself. All the treasures he collected in the name of the One now belong to me, including this dusty monument to greed and glory.”

Gabriel frowned, looking troubled. “You take such joy in profaning what was intended as house of worship.”

“Is that why you’re here? An avenging angel, come to smite me with your flaming sword of righteousness?” Sammy spread his arms wide, as if baring himself to a blow. “Go ahead. Oblivion would be a welcome change after all these years in Hell.”

“I will not fight with you, brother.”

“We are brothers no longer,” Sammy snapped, dropping his arms. “Now get to the point, or get out.”

A heavy sigh came from the angel at the far end of the room. “I wanted to help you, you know.”

Sammy said nothing.

“I would’ve spoken on your behalf, but the One forbade it, saying whatever befell you was meant to happen.”

“Meant to happen?” Sammy scoffed. “So I was created merely to be punished, is that it?”

“His ways are not our ways,” Gabriel answered quietly, “and it is not for us to question them.”

“Not for you, perhaps,” came the grim reply. “I question them every day.”

There was a silence, in which Gabriel turned away. He moved to an old stone altar, touching the tip of his finger to the dust that coated it, revealing white marble, veined with gold.

“Must your minion be present while we talk?” he asked quietly, changing the subject. “The dark one, skulking in the doorway. He disturbs me.”

“I don’t care if he disturbs you or not,” Sammy said smoothly. “Nyx is my faithful servant, and my ever-present shadow. His loyalty, unlike that of others I’ve known, is unquestioned.”

Gabriel stiffened, setting his shoulders and resting both palms flat on the altar. “Formed from the darkness that was always within your soul, I suppose,” he answered quietly. “And yet still you question the One’s judgment—do you think He did not know the darkness was there?”

“Why have you come?” Sammy growled, scarce able to control his growing rage.

Gabriel turned, facing him head-on. “I want to make you an offer,” was his unexpected reply. “One you would do well not to refuse.”

Rage was replaced by surprise, followed by mocking laughter. “An offer?” he asked, when he was able. “What could you have that I would possibly want?” Against his will, an image flashed into his mind: wavy brown hair, flowing in the wind, the laughing smile his long-ago brother had flashed over a shoulder as they raced together through the skies.

Gabriel said nothing for a moment, then looked pointedly toward the impassive black-winged shadow still standing by the door. “This is a private matter, between you and me.”

“Do not listen to him, Master.” Nyx stepped forward, voice low and urgent. His eyes glowed red, and were fixed on Gabriel. “His words are poison, steeped in honey. He dares to come here and make demands—let me kill him for you.”

Two powerful beings—one black as night, one clothed in light—exchanged baleful stares.

“You are welcome to try, demon,” Gabriel bit off tightly, “but I wouldn’t advise it.”

Nyx took another step forward, the tips of his wings beginning to quiver like the fur of a black cat poised to pounce.

Sammy allowed himself a small smile, knowing his servant would not attack until given leave to do so. “My, my. Nyx is usually so quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t seem to like you.”

“The feeling is mutual. He is an abomination.”

“Where are your feelings of brotherly love, Gabriel? Nyx cannot help who he is, any more than you can.”

“Your mockery is wasted on me, Samael”—Gabe’s blue eyes fastened once again on his—“for I know the secrets of your heart.”

A sneer of disgust twisted Sammy’s upper lip. “You know nothing.” He turned on his heel, and began to walk away.

“I know about Nicki Styx, and what you did for her.”

He paused, back stiff.

“I know why, as well.”

For the space of a few heartbeats, Sammy fought the urge to raise his hand and release his faithful servant, who eagerly awaited his signal. Mastering his temper, he merely turned his head and clipped, “Leave us.”

“But—”

“Leave us,” he repeated, in a voice that brooked no argument.

With a final red-eyed glare at Gabriel that made clear his feelings on the matter, the Chief Servant of Darkness stalked silently from the chamber, his disapproval lingering like the shadows he himself resembled.

Samael allowed the silence that followed his departure to go on, to build. He said nothing, nor did he look at his old friend. Instead he strolled toward a marble bench, festooned with cobwebs, his footsteps echoing coldly in the vaulted chamber. A quick flick of a finger, and the bench was clean, the dust and detritus of centuries gone as though it had never been. “Where are my manners?” he asked smoothly, and a table appeared, topped with a pitcher and two goblets. “Sit. Heaven is so far away . . . you must be parched.” As he poured, more items appeared: a tray, laden with fruit and a loaf of bread, still steaming from the oven. “Not exactly ambrosia,” he said wryly, “but a nice, full-bodied cabernet is as close as we come in this world.”

Only then did he turn, holding out the goblet to Gabriel, who made no move to take it.

“Suit yourself.” Sammy shrugged, and took a sip of his own.

“Earthly pleasures like food and wine will not fill the emptiness within your soul,” Gabriel said. “Haven’t you learned that yet?”

Sammy’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his goblet. “You dare much,
brother
,” he said, imbuing the word with as much sarcasm as he could, “for one who dines each day on pompous platitudes and the lies fed to children.”

“Blaspheme all you like,” the other man said calmly. “I’ve come to help you.”

A noise of disgust answered him.

“Hear me out.” Gabriel’s eyes, warm brown shot with golden flecks, were trained on his. “I offer you a chance for redemption. A chance to show the One that you regret your disobedience, that you still want forgiveness.”

Sammy laughed, but it was an ugly sound. “And therein lies the problem, old friend.” He turned away, slapping his goblet down on the table so that a tiny portion of liquid spilled over the rim. “I don’t regret anything, except believing in forgiveness to begin with.”

“You lie.”

“Yes, I do!” His sudden shout filled the chamber, echoing against the cold stone walls. Whirling to face Gabriel again, he added, “I lie, as I was lied to! I tempt, as I was tempted! And when the temptation proves too much”—here his voice lowered—“and it
always
proves too much—it fills me with pleasure and satisfaction.” His lip curled. “The only thing that gives me greater pleasure is sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

Gabriel’s lips thinned, but he said nothing.

“I feel sorry for you,” Sammy spat, hoping to find a weak link in Gabriel’s armor. “You’ve never known the touch of a woman, have you? The silky feel of her hair, the softness of an inner thigh, the curve of a breast within your hand. Have you read the Song of Solomon, Gabriel? Do you ever wonder what you’re missing?”

To his surprise, the angel nodded. “I do. But I don’t act upon it, for it is forbidden the sons of the One to sleep with the daughters of men.”

“He didn’t forbid
me
!” Sammy shouted in reply. “Why is that, I wonder? Why didn’t He tell me that what I did was wrong
before
I did it?” A sweep of his arm, and the contents of the table crashed to the floor. The question he’d asked himself for eons came bubbling to the surface, along with his rage. “If He’s so all-powerful, so all-knowing, then why didn’t He stop me, Gabriel?”

The silence within the chamber was absolute, save for the hollow sound of the now-empty goblet as it rolled into a corner.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel murmured, in a voice filled with compassion.

Having no need of compassion, Sammy raked a hand through his spiky blond hair.

“It’s not too late, Samael.” Gabe took a step closer.

“Samael is dead,” he answered harshly. “And what is left is the stuff of nightmares.”

“That’s not true”—Gabe took a step closer—“and you know it. Even now you feel tendrils of who you once were stirring, moving murkily beneath the darkness that cloaks you.”

“How poetic,” he sneered.

“How frightened you are.” Gabe shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. “The Prince of Darkness, the Great Deceiver, who deceives even himself.”

The urge to kill, to rend, to maim rose like a black fog in his mind, testing, probing against the edges of his sanity. He let it feed for a moment before forcing it away, blessedly taking much of his anger with it. “Go away, Gabriel,” he answered wearily, “before I show you what truly lies beneath the darkness.”

“For the sake of what we once shared, in a long ago time when we were both innocent and unaware, I beg you, old friend, hear me out.”

“Stop it,” Sammy said, scrubbing a hand over his face. He still wanted to smash his fist into Gabriel’s perfect face, rip the hair from his heavenly head, and cast him down deeper than the deepest pit ever created. Instead he found himself growling, “Say whatever it is you came to say, and then get out of my temple.”

Gabriel smiled, and something painful twisted inside Sammy’s chest, like a knife to the heart he no longer had. Before he gave in to the urge to put a fist through those gleaming, perfect teeth, he turned away, staring at a dusty marbled column as he listened.

“You showed mercy to the woman you love, and in doing so, you opened a crack in the blackened shell of misery and bitterness that surrounds your heart.”

Yes, Nicki had found a way inside his heart without even trying, and nestled there still, damn her.

“Been spying on me, Gabriel? I never took you for a voyeur—how very naughty of you.”

Gabriel ignored the sarcasm. “Let me show you how to widen that crack, to break free of the path you’ve taken.”

“Oh, by all means,” he replied, with exquisite politeness. “Please. Show me.”

“Join me in doing what you were created to do, brother. I have a lost soul in need of a guardian angel, and I offer you the job.”

For the first time in several thousand centuries, Sammy found himself at a total loss for words.

“A mortal woman, in need of intervention and guidance. You could help her—indeed, you could save her.”

Laughter, low in his throat. Swiveling his head, he found his voice. “Why, in the name of all that’s unholy, would I want to do that? Less souls for your side, more for mine, remember?” He shook his head, amazed by the suggestion. “Save her yourself.”

“I seek to save a different soul today,” Gabriel answered quietly. “Yours.”

Time, which there had been too much of, seemed to stand still.

“The gates of Heaven have been closed against me for eons. Are you saying they are now open?” How he despised the flicker of hope that made him ask the question.

His old friend shook his head. “No, sadly they are not—not yet. But if you do this, if you show me that you haven’t forgotten who you once were—who you
are
—then you give me a reason to beseech the One on your behalf.”

Sammy rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, beseech away, Gabriel. I’m sure it will do a tremendous amount of good.”

“You forget my position. I stand at the One’s right hand. He will hear me, I know it.”

“So you want me to turn my back on everything I’ve done, everything I’ve created, for the
chance
I might be forgiven? You want me to sheathe my claws, retract my horns, give away my
kingdom
”—he swept an angry hand expansively over the echoing chamber—“for the mere
chance
of regaining what I once had?”

“Ah, yes,” Gabriel said calmly, eerily echoing the words Sammy said to Lilith earlier, “the kingdom of the damned.” He looked around as well, taking in the dust, the cobwebs, and the utter emptiness that surrounded them. “I can certainly see why you wouldn’t want to give it up.”

Too astounded to be angry, Sammy merely stared, disbelieving, as Gabriel shrugged.

“Consider it a challenge, if you must. Do it as a favor to an old friend, do it to prove you still can—do it out of boredom, for Heaven’s sake—just
do
it.”

Unbelievably, despite the transparency of Gabriel’s arguments, he found himself tempted—once again—to do something he wasn’t supposed to. He was the fucking Prince of Darkness, for fuck’s sake, and he could do anything he damn well pleased. “Do you know, Gabriel,” he said quietly, “that’s the first thing you’ve said to me that makes sense.”

Nothing was beyond him, including helping a few pathetic mortals find happiness.

Or not.

Turning away from the flash of eagerness in Gabe’s eyes, he nodded thoughtfully, mind already working. “I’ll do it, but I’ll do it
my
way. None of your mealymouthed prayers or good deeds or sackcloth and ashes.” He shot his old friend a warning look. “You’ll stay out of it, do you hear?”

Gabriel nodded, smiling. “I’ll stay out of it.”

Eyeing him narrowly, Sammy replied, “Why do I suddenly feel as though I’m not the only liar in the room?”

Gabriel stiffened, but Sammy was in no mood for further debate. “Tell me her name and where to find her. Then leave it to me.”