Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (30 page)

Gabriel smiled. “I already know who one is. He approached me for assistance in setting up a presentation before the Ruling Council. They are ready to announce their procreation method.”

His brother stood, towering over the younger angel. “You’re an unlikely ally in this particular project, Gabriel. Since when have you ever been inclined toward creation? Are you sure there isn’t some other motive for why they approached you? Something else behind this scheme of theirs?”

Gabriel thought for a moment, taking the questions seriously. He’d put out the word he might be interested through Sidriel, but why had the Ruling Council member even brought the subject up with him? He
was
an unlikely ally in this matter. Had he once again allowed zeal to overshadow common sense? “We should be cautious. Do you believe this project is a front for some other activity?”

“I think they need to bring proof to this meeting. I want to see their creation mechanisms, including how they manage to overcome the problem of formation. We’ll address the ethical issues then. And we should hold this meeting here, among the humans. They will be more vulnerable if they plan to attack.”

Now that was more like the brother Gabriel knew before the war. “I will let them believe our meeting will be in Aaru until the last moment. Should we use the same place we have held the last few meetings?”

The older angel shook his head. “Another location as an added precaution. Normally I would arrange for some Grigori to be close by, but I honesty am not sure which of them to trust at this point. Circumstances lead me to believe quite a few may have conflicting loyalties.”

Gabriel squirmed, unsure whether that last remark was directed at him or not. “There will be the six most powerful angels in all of Aaru in attendance. I think we can do without additional protection.”

His brother nodded, a faint smile quirking up one side of his mouth. “Agreed. But if they show up with a large wooden horse, shoot first and ask questions later.”

How a large wooden horse could be a threat was beyond Gabriel, but he would defer to his brother’s superior knowledge of the modern human world on this point. “Then you agree to close the gates to Hel?”

The elder angel sighed, looking off into the distance. “I can’t. Just in case….”

Gabriel reached an awkward hand toward his brother, pulling it back at the last moment. He knew there was another reason the elder angel did not want the gates closed.

"What if she doesn't live?" he asked as gently as he could. "You would risk the lives of so many, allow this monstrous violation of all that is right and good on the slim chance that she survived, that the demons didn't tear her to shreds the moment her damaged body was discovered?"

"She does live," the older angel insisted. "She has contacted her human, and although she is still injured, she will survive."

“Even if she does live, how could she ever use the gates again? Didn’t you banish her?”

The older angel sighed, his wings drooping further onto the ground. “I hope that she somehow overcomes that. She’s not like the other demons. Perhaps she can travel through the gates again, even banished. It’s not like she hasn’t done other, very unexpected, things.”

Gabriel winced, remembering that the Iblis devoured. His brother had surely lost his mind, loving a demon that would probably cause the end of all creation.

"What will she think of you if she learns you did nothing to protect her people, made no move to avenge the wrongs against her person? They nearly killed her. My brother, the Angel of Justice, can you ever face her if you let this continue?"

The elder turned a wry smile to his brother. "I think that title has shifted to your shoulders. I'd like the Vengeance one instead."

Gabriel couldn't help the snort that escaped him. "Good luck getting rid of any of your titles. You know you'll just wind up with Vengeance as an addition."

Reddish curls swayed as the angel shook his head. "What's one more? I've already got… fifty? Or is it sixty?"

"I lost count. Don't ask me to name them, either. I had to write them down on notecards last time."

His brother laughed, a hint of real amusement behind the bitterness. "All right, Gabriel. I will lock down the gates to Hel. All but one. We can surely safeguard one gate, and I need to leave her an option—just in case."

Gabriel stood for a moment, watching his eldest sibling. “I hope . . I hope she finds a way back to you, my brother.”

He turned to leave, pausing when his brother spoke. “Thank you, Gabe.”

Gabe. It brought back a flood of childhood memories, of when they fought and played together, closer than any five angels could be, a time before they were saddled with titles, before envy, pride, and greed scarred their love for each other and wrenched them apart. Back then, he was just Gabe.

He turned and met his brother’s black eyes, feeling the love and admiration he’d once had when he was young. “You’re welcome, Micha.”

25

T
he elves had planned to attack at breakfast. It was a clever strategy. Most of their stealth attacks happened in the dark of night, which was an odd choice given their amazing night vision. Coordinated battles—usually feuds and large-scale settling of disagreements—happened during the day. Feille would realize the instability of his new kingdoms and the inevitable resistance. He'd be braced for battle at dark and dawn especially, but not in the middle of the morning meal. Elves were creatures of habit, and respect for dining hours, holy moments, and festivals was ingrained into their culture. Attacking a kingdom as they ate muffins and dried fruit was unthinkable.

So I had from dawn until breakfast to make my move. It was a tight window. Feille would have the utmost security about his person as he slept, but as all elves, he would be up with the sun. That's when I needed to find him, somewhere between bed and royal breakfast room. I patted down my various weapons, so unusual for a demon to be carrying, and contemplated my list of likely spots to find my victim. Bath? Wardrobe? Contemplation room? Or maybe he was an early morning, wake-up sex kinda guy.

Letting out a breath, I looked at the twig I held in my hand. At the other end would be the relay, an exact replica of this twig with opposing spell components burned unnoticeably into the end during a complicated incantation. I had no idea how Kirby had managed to do this to his marble, but it was impressive. I ran my finger along the twig and felt nothing. Even to a demon, it appeared to be just a small stick. I hoped the elves hadn't found it and tossed it out into the woods or I'd be in deep shit.

Ly-swiciall
.

Unlike the elven buttons, this transportation gave me the same vertigo I got when Gregory moved me from place to place. Blinking to clear my eyes of swirls and stars, I felt myself on my side, laying on a cold, hard surface. As I went to sit up, I smacked my head on something and heard a bump and crash—so much for stealth.

The room swam into view. I'd transported myself to a hallway, underneath a table. The crash was some kind of pottery item that now lay in tiny pieces all over a shiny marble floor. Frantic, I looked around for somewhere to hide, diving through the nearest door as I heard footsteps from the hall.

The footsteps quickened. Whoever it was, they must have seen the broken vase, lamp, or whatever the fuck was on the floor. They halted, and I heard a gasp. It must have been one hell of a gasp because I was in a tiny closet-sized room that was stuffed full of hanging fabric things. Draperies? Tapestries? They smelled clean but old, and I was getting hot, wedged in among them.

"Oh no, oh no," a voice cried. "His Lordship will be furious."

Hopefully his lordship would be dead in an hour, so any fury would be short lived.

I heard clinking sounds, and a brushing noise, presumably this servant cleaning up the broken stuff. It better not take long. It would really suck if I was still trapped in a closet, hiding, when Taullian attacked. I'd never be able to find Feille in time. The soft sound of crying reached my ears and I couldn't help myself. I opened the door just a crack and looked out to see a boy, barely ten, on his hands and knees sweeping the broken bits into a piece of cloth. Judging by his naked chest, I assumed it was his shirt. A tear slid down his nose and onto the floor.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry." Stupid, I know, but I couldn't help myself from reassuring the poor child.

He jumped, cutting off his scream with a palm to his mouth. "Was it you that broke the urn?" he whispered through his fingers.

He clearly thought me one of the human servants. I was wearing a Wythyn style outfit and was relieved to know I could at least still fool the humans into thinking I was one of them.

"Yes," I whispered, coming out of the closet. "Don't cry. You won't be blamed for it."

"But I will." He shuddered. "Why would you take the blame? You'll be killed."

I thought fast. "I've got a secret. Can you keep a secret?"

He nodded, and I pulled the wand from beneath my pant leg. His eyes grew huge when he saw it, and he began to slowly back away.

"Don't worry. It's not one of
those
wands." I swept the birch stick in a series of arcs, ending with something that looked like an exclamation mark.

"Bwak."

The boy grinned at my chicken noise then gasped as a spray of white feathers burst from the end of the wand to land squawking on the floor.

"Run and tell the housekeeper that some idiot has let a chicken in and it's trashing this room." He nodded and began to leave. "Wait. Where is his lordship's royal chambers? I'm… a bit lost."

He gave me a puzzled look. "Down that hall, through the third archway. But he's not there. He skipped his devotionals and went to pay a surprise visit to the guards. Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but everyone knew it was coming."

Fuck! Double fuck! I could hardly assassinate him surrounded by his troops, and now Taullian would face an army alert and ready due to Feille's paranoia. On the other hand, although I didn't know much about elven religion, skipping morning prayers couldn't be a good thing. Hopefully his goddess would turn her smile on some other, more deserving elf today.

The boy raced off. The chicken strutted around, occasionally pecking the marble floor, and I sped down a long hallway, counting archways as I went. My hope now was to find Feille's safe room and lay in wait for him. I hoped my assessment of his character ran true, and that at the first sign of battle, he took off for shelter, leaving his sorcerers and generals to do his dirty work. Otherwise, I would have risked the lives of my entire household for nothing.

I slid as I ran on the marble floors. They were polished to high gloss, golden brown, with cream and black inlaid patterns. The walls served as a backdrop—a lighter brown with faint fleckings of gold. Artificial skylights and windows lit the room, focusing all attention onto the beautiful floors. It was an odd arrangement for an elf to have in his palace. Usually all the attention was directed upward, toward the light, intricate foliage, sculpture, or artwork. This drawing of the eye toward the floor and the encouraged appreciation for the stone below gave me the idea that the designer had been a dwarf. Not what I'd expected of Feille. Perhaps one of his ancestors had commissioned this design, and he'd not had the time or inclination to change it.

It took a while to get to the third archway. This had to have been the longest hallway in all the elven kingdoms. Wondering how close to the breakfast hour we were, I dashed through the archway and down another length of hall—this one more in keeping with elven tastes. Thick vines covered the walls, giving the impression of being in a secret garden. Morning glories of white and blue were open, along with orange trumpet flowers, giving me hope that I still had a few moments until Taullian's attack. The hallway stretched nearly fifty yards, yet when I skidded to a stop at the end, I hadn't seen even one door. Had the little boy led me astray? How could there be such a long hallway with a dead end? There had to be a secret door somewhere. Fucking elves. I had no time for this bullshit.

I was ripping out vines and patting the walls behind them when to my left, an elf materialized from the wall. An illusion. I would have spent half the day looking for the thing if he hadn't appeared. Of course, now that he had appeared, I was totally busted.

"What in the name of the Goddess are you doing?" he barked, striding over to me and grabbing me by the ear.

I squealed like a human and cowered. "Sorry! Sorry! They told me there was a chicken up here, and I needed to get it."

His eyes bugged out. "In the vines? What would a chicken be doing in the vines, or in the palace at all? You stupid, incompetent, worthless human. I'll have your ears removed for this. I'll have you whipped at the stake and left in the sun for two days. I'll have you buried in a hole in the forest."

As a demon, that all sounded mighty fun, but for a human, the threat would be terrifying. Anger surged up inside me, furious that they would do this sort of thing as punishment for such a paltry mistake. I wanted to tear the ribs from this elf one at a time as he screamed in pain, pull chunks of his brain out his nose, tie him in the desert for the sand snakes to slowly devour, but that wouldn't help me kill Feille, and it sure as fuck wouldn't help the humans.

"Sorry! So sorry!" I wailed. The elf drew back a fist to punch me but paused as the sound of frantic squawking and flapping came from behind him. He turned to look down the hall and saw a blur of white feathers being chased by two elves through the doorway.

"By the Lady, what is that doing in here?" he shouted, letting go of my ear and racing down the hallway. I could almost hear his thoughts: Feille would string them all up to find a chicken running around his personal quarters.

I took advantage of the distraction and slipped through the shimmering illusion of vine and flowers that led to Feille's chambers. A lavish greeting room met me—plush couches, waterfalls and fountains with aquatic plants floating in them. A flash from the iridescent scales of brightly colored fish and birdsong from the indoor trees completed the vision. It was an idyllic reproduction of a forest retreat, complete with mossy benches and soft grasses underfoot. I raced around the mini forest, desperately searching for a doorway to the private areas and very much aware that I was running out of time.