Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (14 page)

“I’ll do the best I can, but beyond Feille, I’m not promising anything.”

“Good. We have a deal then. I hope I’m not making a terrible mistake in trusting you.”

“Nope. You can completely count on me,” I told him cheerfully. From his grim expression, he knew I was lying. I’d help him, but I had my own agenda, and that came first.

“If the Goddess shines her favor upon us, we’ll be a free kingdom by the end of the month.”

Taullian didn’t look very confident about having his goddess’ favor. In actuality, he looked rather ill, like a man marching to his death. Not good, since his troops would need to feed off his confidence to fight with any valor.

“I think you need a whole lot more than the favor of your deity. What’s your battle plan?”

Taullian lifted his nose in disdain. “I’m hardly going to tell you my battle plan. Trust doesn’t go that far when it comes to demons.”

Fair enough. “Then let me tell you what I’d do. Not that I’m particularly skilled in warfare, but I have spent the last nine months listening to really long, boring tales of battle strategy from an angel. I zoned out for most of them, but I think a few things soaked into my memory.”

“An angel?” Taullian interrupted. “Of all the ridiculous lies, that one is the most unbelievable I’ve ever heard.”

Taullian knew I’d been bound. It was the one thing that had saved me from winding up dead or in jail over the whole hybrid baby fiasco. He obviously didn’t think that servitude extended to the kind of instructional conversations Gregory and I had together. I’m sure ours was the first to cross the line from angel and bound demon into friendship and more. With tightness in my chest, I glanced down at the underside of my arm. Gone. No tattoo of a sword with angel wings at the hilt. No link to my angel beyond the disconnected red purple of his spirit sitting like an alien presence throughout my damaged self. I shook off the crashing sense of loss and refocused. I’d mourn later, but now I had things to do.

“First, I hope this technology of yours that gates us all in is undetectable. I’m sure it is when it’s not in use, but once someone makes the hop, will it set off any alarms? Because that is going to affect your timing.”

Taullian shook his head. “It registers a small energy blip, but nothing significant enough to set off alarms. Of course, I’m not positive the sensitivity of the Wythyn alarms, but I’ve got a good degree of certainty we’ll arrive unannounced.”

Phew, that was a relief. I didn’t want sirens going off all over the palace with me trapped in Feille’s bedchamber.

“Then I’d use intel to figure out the best time to transport my assassin and give her a set time to do the deed before all hell broke loose. If she kills him too early, the palace will be in a state of alert looking for the killer, and the army would lose some of the element of surprise. If she arrives too late Feille will be safely behind twenty layers of runes and circles.”

Taullian’s expression was blank, but I could tell he’d already thought of this.

“The actual attack needs to be swift and bloody. They’ll be shocked and not have time to adequately evaluate the threat, so there’s a good chance with an immediate high body count, the rest will just lay down their arms.”

He still wore a blank look. Good.

“I’d have a plan for post battle, to ensure any little uprisings over the next month are quickly squashed. The best bet would be to get everyone back to work immediately—business as usual kind of thing. Make them feel like not that much is going to change day-to-day. That you won’t be taking their lands or their wealth, or lowering their status in any way.”

A flicker of interest appeared in his eyes.

“And one more thing, to really seal the deal. Use your humans. It will expand your fighting force. If you offer them freedom, a livelihood in Cyelle, or perhaps even a small sub-kingdom of their own if they want, they’ll jump to serve your cause.”

“I’m not using the service humans,” Taullian sputtered. “Aside from the mages and sorcerers, they’re unskilled. They can’t fight and won’t make a good army. They don’t have the speed or martial talent the elves do.”

“But they have one advantage—they’re invisible. Elves speak freely around them, relax around them. Beyond the mages and sorcerers, humans aren’t a threat. They’re overlooked, discounted, and underestimated. I bet you think they all look so similar that a new human wouldn’t even register on your radar as out of place.”

“What good does that do me? I can see the intelligence gathering opportunity, but I wouldn’t trust them to get it right. Receiving the wrong information is worse than no information at all. And what would they do in a fight? Beat the elves over the head with a loaf of bread?”

I shrugged, unable to help a wicked smile. “They poison the bread.”

Taullian gasped, his eyes horrified. “Only demons do such things!”

“Yeah, right. That’s why you have a taster at every diplomatic event. Demons poison, but I’m sure elves do too.”

The high elf sputtered in outrage. “I refuse to lower myself to the level of a demon.”

“Feille will. He’ll do anything to achieve his goals, and if you’re not willing to go that far, that’s your weakness. He’ll use it against you.”

“A leader without scruples is no leader.”

This was beginning to sound like an argument Wyatt and I had over and over again.

“Scruples are fine, but when your people are in danger, when there are innocents to protect, someone has to do the heavy lifting. You’re no leader if you’re not willing to dirty your soul to save your people from having to do so.”

I winced as it came out of my mouth, thinking of the two sorcerers I’d killed. Pawns. There’d been a lot of collateral damage lately. Was I justifying my actions so I could sleep at night, or was this really what I believed?

“I’m not sanctioning the poisoning of others, and I’m not using humans. They’d be arrow fodder, dying left and right.”

“Then teach them. The elves won’t recognize the threat until they’ve got a knife through their hearts. They’d never expect a human to attack them. Just give them some instruction and proper weapons and they could do great things.”

“No.” Taullian rose to his feet. I thought convincing him to use them in his war would bring about the end I wanted, but it was time to cut straight to the point.

“I want their freedom. I want you to provide them with part of a kingdom and resources to have their own society. I want you to close down the traps and stop enslaving them.”

He froze, his mouth open in astonishment. “What are you talking about? You’re a demon. You’ve done far worse things to humans than any
elf
ever has.”

“I like humans. They’re mine, and I won’t let you enslave them any longer.”

He started to laugh, and spun on his heel to leave. “What do you plan to do about it? You’re in no position to bargain.”

“Neither are you. You need me to assassinate Feille. This is my price. You want me to fight? This is my price.”

He turned briefly, a condescending smile on his face. “Your
reward
is your freedom and your life. I hold all the cards here. Yes, I need you, but not at that price. I’d rather let you rot in my dungeon for the rest of your life.”

I watched him leave, leaning dangerously close to the magic-enhanced cell bars. If I ever regained some of my ability, I could blow up the elven gates. They’d rebuild, so I’d need to do it over and over, discovering the locations then sneaking into each kingdom to disable them. I could spend the rest of my life in Hel trying to free humans, one at a time or in small groups. Where to put them, though, that they’d be safe from both elf and demon raids? Plus, I’d have a huge price on my head. Eventually someone would get lucky, or I’d get unlucky. No, the only way to human freedom was to gain buy-in from the elves. Taullian was my best bet. Nyalla said he was the most sympathetic to their plight compared to the neighboring kingdoms. He was the only elven lord who punished serious mistreatment of humans, the only one who legislated a minimal standard of care. But my only hope was not proving to be willing. What could I do to change his mind?

13

T
his has got to be the worst place on the entire planet,” Gabriel muttered to himself as he swerved to avoid a large group of human teens, walking sideways and backwards as they chatted excitedly. Usually his projected “avoid me/ignore me” compulsion created a safe, ten-foot human-free zone around his form, but the teens seemed immune. Actually, everyone seemed to be immune—a fact he attributed more to the anomalies of the location than anything to do with the humans who were shopping here.

The gate hadn’t originally been in the middle of a shopping mall. When they’d built it, most of the world was a frozen block of ice. The mountains had been bigger, and the ocean wasn’t as close. And of course, the humans hadn’t filled the area with their buildings, roads, cars, and chaotic lives. Gabriel paused, eyes unfocused as he remembered. If he imagined where he stood without the humans and their busy work, the landscape really wouldn’t be that much different. Another image danced across his memory, from when these beaten-down mountains had been jagged peaks and when volcanoes stretched north to south. He’d flown among the summits, observing life below, playing in the thermals. Samael had always dared them to dive into the lava and out again. Fire had never been Gabriel’s strong suit. Samael’s either, he thought. It was the brother he was here to see today that was the one skilled in all things flame and heat.

Gabriel found him next to the gate, which at the moment was in front of a busy sandwich shop. The other angel stood still and calm, as if meditating in the midst of all this chaos. His dark, reddish-brown hair was an unkempt mess of big curls, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The humans glanced at him as they walked by, their eyes full of adoration. They’d never remember seeing him, just that sense of joy and peace dancing across their souls in the middle of a day’s shopping. It irritated Gabriel that his eldest brother encouraged the humans so, that he seemed to enjoy their brief attention. Angels were supposed to remain aloof and distant, only monitoring the humans, not giving them brief moments of grace. They’d had enough grace—too much too soon, and look where it had gotten them.

“Are you watching the gate?” Gabriel asked, incredulous that a member of the Ruling Council, an archangel, could be doing such a thing.

“Yes. The guardian needed a break. I believe she is off getting some lunch.”

Gabriel choked, his eyes wide. “What? A break?”

“Mmm,” the elder angel nodded. “I’ve been rather hard on her lately. It’s the least I could do.”

Gabriel shook his head in disbelief. “She shouldn’t be eating. It’s a violation of angelic purity standards. It’s a sin.”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s a minor infraction. Besides, she’s a guardian. Her vibration level is not where I could require rigid adherence to standards.”

“Her level shouldn’t matter. Standards are standards. How do you expect her to attain positive evolution if you bend the rules for her?” Of course, he’d seen his own brother eat something recently. They were all slipping from their right order, falling and encouraging others to do the same.

“She’s not slaughtering humans, or having sexual intercourse with them. She doesn’t even socialize with them. She’s isolated down here with no companions.” A brief look of pain crossed the elder angel’s face. “Well, not any longer. Let her have her lunch. Besides, it’s not like any of us are experiencing positive evolution. Not for two and a half million years.”

Gabriel winced. “I don’t agree. You need to hold your staff to higher standards. And you should be setting an example, not eating these crab chips and leading others to sin.”

His brother turned to face him, black eyes calm and emotionless. Gabriel felt a shiver down his spine. Not this again. The brother he’d both loved and hated had died inside after the war, leaving this cold, dispassionate angel in his place. The last year he’d thought whatever spark lay dormant inside had come to life, but now those eyes were once again empty, black.

“Do you wish to take over here as head Grigori, brother? I’m sure the Council would vote in your favor if you have such a need to set things right.”

Gabriel felt panic tighten his chest, locking his breath for an instant. No. He couldn’t. An extended period of time here? Tens of thousands of years watching the humans evolve and regress? Never again. Not after what happened last time.

“No,” was the only word he could manage.

A fleeting smile crossed his brother’s face as he turned again to watch the gate. “Then tell me, what is so important that it brings you from the safety and comforts of Aaru to brave the horrendous world of the humans?”

Gabriel flushed slightly, hating the condescending tone. It had always been this way as the middle angel of the five . He’d not been young enough to indulge, nor old enough to respect.

“We’ve lost three angels in less than a year.”

Again, that brief smile. “Why yes, my brother. How very astute of you. I commend you on your excellent math skills.”

The younger angel ground his teeth. “You killed Althean. The other two died within weeks of each other, and the latest reports are
still
unacceptably vague.”

“I thought they were particularly well written. What sections are you objecting to this time?”

“The section that deals with cause of death of the one in Washington State.” Gabriel sneered. “Have you found out anything further since we last spoke? Are you even bothering? He’s an angel. We don’t die from ingesting bad shellfish or stampeding elephants.”

“
Was
an angel,” his brother corrected. “He lost his corporeal form in a massive explosion and had insufficient time to create a new one before coming apart. What’s not to understand?”

“Who caused this explosion? Demons? Something internal to the planet? Humans? If the latter, we need to consider eliminating them and devoting our time to another species.”

The older angel shook his head. “Gabriel, you didn’t used to be so pessimistic, so quick to condemn. Where is your faith?”