Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (6 page)

Pond scum couldn’t do much. Maybe if he ate me, but I doubted that would be a possibility. If he had an open wound, I could probably infect it, but that would take forever, and I didn’t think he’d get close enough for me to transfer any bacteria or virus. I’d just need to watch and take any opportunity I could find to kill him.

A twinge of guilt went through me. Wyatt would not approve, and I wasn’t sure I did either. I was reluctant to take an innocent life, and this sorcerer was a victim. He was a slave, living under Feille’s iron thumb and, no doubt, wondering if every day would be his last. He had some job security in that he was the only sorcerer that the high lord had. Feille wasn’t likely to kill him—yet. Once he fully absorbed his conquests, he’d have their sorcerers. And he could demand tribute from the allied kingdoms as well. Once that happened, this guy’s life would be hanging by a thread.

I toyed with the idea of trying to win him to my side, but I didn’t have any way to communicate with him. Plus, I’m sure his fear of Feille would trump any juicy deal I could make with him—it’s not like I was in a great bargaining position. I hated the choice I was about to make, but the man was a tool that would be used to take down all of Hel. If his death would prevent it, or delay it long enough for me to come up with a viable plan, then he needed to go. Someone needed to do the dirty work. Guess that someone was going to be me.

6

G
abriel looked at the woman walking toward him, then beyond her to the humans playing in the sand at the surf’s edge. He could smell the ocean’s salt, its mix of life and death, a mini cosmos in its own liquid sky.

“A coffee shop would have been nice,” the woman huffed. “My physical form isn’t equipped for this sort of activity.”

“I always pick the shore. I’d think that over billions of years, you would have realized that.”

The woman plopped down beside him, spreading her legs out in front of her. The sun glinted off her red hair, turning it the color of flame around her pale face. It was odd that only two of them could create red hair. The one a dark auburn, then this one a bright crimson. Gabriel had tried, but the only color he could manage was deep black. Flexibility in corporeal forms was not a strong skill for Angels of Order.

“Still female, Uriel? Bit off the median, aren’t you?”

Angels tended to alternate genders fairly regularly, always keeping within a tolerable distance of their balanced center. With a new Iblis, they’d found themselves compensating, sliding further right of an acceptable mark, especially when in close proximity to her. It irritated Gabriel, who continued his excessively masculine form outside of her presence, as if he chose this of his own free will. Uriel did the opposite, forcing herself into a painfully feminine form even when in Council meetings.

“I like being female. It’s been a while since I was. If it troubles you, I can change.”

“Don’t bother,” he replied. If she changed, he’d need to alter his form to balance. It just wasn’t worth the effort. Increasingly, nothing seemed worth the effort, no matter how hard he fought against his ennui. There were pinpoints of light—fighting with that horrid imp, investigating rumors of sin and stamping them out. Thoughts of Sidreal’s conversation rose in his mind. Creation might be just what he needed to feel alive again.

Alive. The last time he’d felt that way, it had all come crashing down. Balance and order were safer, less painful, than feeling alive.

“You have the papers?” the woman asked, jolting Gabriel from his thoughts by bringing up the reason he’d given her when he’d requested this meeting.

Gabriel flicked a wrist, and a stack of bound documents appeared in her hand. “Obviously, this information is to be kept between the two of us.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I assume so, given that we’re doing this outside of Aaru.”

Gabriel glanced out to sea, where the water met the horizon. At one time he’d enjoyed coming here, assisting the evolution of a lesser species. It was a noble purpose. Now, there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t think of wiping the slate clean. Raise the mighty sea and wash them all away. It would be a fitting end to a terrible tragedy.

Humans had become terrible creatures. It was disheartening how such a promising species could veer so far from their right evolution. They’d messed this one up terribly, and it would be a shame to wipe them out. Increasingly he wondered if they could ever be brought back into the fold. They were too far from center, almost as far as the demons. He felt a pang remembering the Angels of Chaos the demons had once been. Never centered, but still with good in their hearts. He couldn’t say that about what remained of them, and he wasn’t sure he could say that about the humans either.

“It seems we have once again lost our Adversary,” he commented. He’d been there when his brother brought her in, broken and barely alive. He’d felt sorrow, and wasn’t sure if it was for his brother or for the half-dead demon he’d developed a distasteful affection for.

Uriel placed her energy seal on the last page of the paperwork, and it vanished from her hands. “Don’t count the Iblis out yet. She’s a lucky little imp.”

Gabriel shrugged, trying for a casual tone. “Doesn’t matter if she lives or dies, it’s not as if she can hold the office from Hel, and she’s unlikely to return.”

“I think you’re sweet on her,” the woman teased. “Better get your own though; I doubt our brother will share.”

He hid a smile. No, his brother most definitely wouldn’t share. Still, as fun as it was to bully the little imp, he couldn’t understand the attraction. “He’s breaking the rules, dear sister. All of Aaru is whispering about his treason.”

Uriel took in a sharp breath. “Be careful what words you choose, brother. He is powerful and he has loyal allies.”

Gabriel watched her carefully. Her mannerisms, her words all seemed sincere. If his sister had lied about Furlac’s purpose among the humans, she was hiding it well. She was not typically the one who would formulate rebellion. The top position in Aaru had never had appeal for her. The few times she’d gone against any of her brothers, it had been in defense of an ethical ideal—or to protect one she loved.

“Do you defend him? Support him in this madness? Yes, the Adversary is allowed a certain status by the treaty, but he takes it too far. She’ll cause him to fall, if she hasn’t already, and that will rock Aaru to the core.”

Uriel smiled, and he saw a soft light in her eyes he hadn’t seen in millions of years. “Let him be. He’s carried the weight of Aaru on his shoulders for as long as I can remember. He deserves some happiness.”

Happiness. Gabriel felt a stab of pain. Happiness was a fleeting thing, never worth the agony that remained when it fled.

“It will create jealousy, dissent.”

Uriel frowned. “Yes, there will be envy. I too experience that sin, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also feel joy at my brother’s happiness.”

Gabriel turned to look out at the waves crashing on the shore. It was hard to feel joy when the sin of envy blackened his own heart.

“His blatant connection with this demon will open the door to sinful behavior among all the angels. Not that I blame him,” he added. “We’ve had no procreation since the split. Some are desperate.”

“There are a few angels who continue to mate with humans, but it’s not as widespread as you think, and we punish the transgressors. Most would not dream of such an act.”

“What alternative is there? Seize and bind a demon, use it as vessel? They are no longer angels, and the prospect is just as abhorrent as mating with a human female. We are trapped in a cage of our own making.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uriel clench her hands together. A twinge of guilt speared through him—this was an open wound for her, and he was cruel for bringing it up.

“No one forced us to write that treaty. No one forced us to continue the war to its inevitable conclusion. We made our choices, and now we must live with them.”

“Everyone except our illustrious brother. He evidently can violate the treaty and procreate, while others must abide by the choices we made. Nice how he gets to break the rules.”

“Are you questioning our brother’s motives?” she asked hotly. “He
loves
her. Do you even remember what that sacred emotion felt like, Gabriel? Is this the sin of jealousy talking or do you really think his interest in the imp is strictly as a vessel for offspring?”

He couldn’t help a grimace of irritation. Uriel was such an optimist, always a romantic.

“No, I’m sure he’s head over wings in love. I’ll admit though that this is one of the most difficult effects of the war to reconcile myself to—never being able to create another being.”

He felt the weight of her stare on him. “Creation. Not love. You missed your chance to pass on your oh-so-impressive angelic traits before the war, and now you regret that there will be no opportunity to do so. That’s the empty spot in your heart?”

Her words cut to the bone. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t jump if the opportunity to create presented itself,” Gabriel said.

Uriel lowered her head, picking at a tiny grain of sand as she hid her expression from him. “Yes, but it’s the joining I miss the most. That sense of closeness, when I become more than an angel. It’s the nearest I’ve ever been to divinity.”

“They’re not angels anymore; they’re demons. Love is off the table, as is joining. You’ll need to find divinity through right order and meditation, just like the rest of us.” He hadn’t meant his words to be so harsh, or his tone so bitter.

Her entire body tensed, and her head snapped up, eyes flashing. “I’ve seen a lot of miracles in my five billion years. I won’t give up on love, and I won’t give up on creation.”

Here was where he had to tread oh so carefully. “We may never be able to experience love again, but maybe someday we could manage to find a way around the problem of creation.”

Uriel shot him a suspicious look. She didn’t seem surprised at the premise, but he couldn’t gauge which way she stood on the issue.

“I’ve heard rumors that we could see creation again in Aaru.”

The redhead gave a short bark of laughter. “Such a positive outlook. I hadn’t expected that from you.”

“Would you, Uriel? I know there will never be a spirit to replace Haka, but would you seek to create again?”

They sat for a moment, Uriel’s eyes on the humans playing below while Gabriel watched her. Both her lover and her only child had been Angels of Chaos. The war had split families, but Uriel had lost so much more than most.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I would very much like to create another life. But to do that, we need an Angel of Chaos—a demon. We severed that tie nearly three million years ago. We knowingly committed ourselves to this path. Unless there is a possibility of immaculate conception, proof that the process does not violate all we hold dear, I won’t break my vow.”

Her voice held two million years of pain. He knew, deep inside, she longed for a different choice, to return to a happier past before the war.

Gabriel drew a line in the sand with his finger, trying to keep his tone casual. “Then I guess we should pray for immaculate conception.”

Again they sat in silence while Gabriel allowed his words to sink in.

“Do you think she is Samael’s offspring?” Uriel asked unexpectedly. “The imp? Our unconventional Iblis?”

Sharp pain stabbed through Gabriel’s chest. “No.”

He offered no explanation. He’d fought fiercely with Samael, as only close brothers can, but even with the war that divided them, he refused to believe his youngest brother had fallen so far as to interbreed with other Angels of Chaos. He never would have contributed to the monsters such inbreeding produced.

“So what are your thoughts on the report?” Gabriel asked, shifting the topic back in a safer, less painful direction.

Uriel breathed a tired sigh. “Two angels dead. That’s three this year including the one our beloved brother dispatched.”

“Althean was one of his Grigori. Even though he wasn’t in the fourth choir, it was still within his scope to deliver justice.”

The woman chuckled. “That sounds like approval. Be careful, dear brother, lest I think you actually support our eldest sibling for once.”

“Just because it was his right, doesn’t mean I agree with the justice he delivered,” Gabriel protested. “Death was an extreme verdict, especially given our inability to produce more angels. Althean could have been rehabilitated, given sufficient time and attention.”

Uriel shivered. “Death was probably more merciful.”

Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “But it’s not Althean that concerns me. He was Grigori and had every right to be walking among the humans, even if his actions weren’t sanctioned. These other two angels were away from Aaru without permission, one of them yours.”

He felt a wave of power from his sister, gritty as the sand they sat upon. “Furlac was delivering a personal message for me. His death had nothing to do with his errand. It was simply an unfortunate accident.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose as he looked at Uriel in disbelief. “He was murdered, dear sister. Pray enlighten me as to who killed him, and how it had no connection to his clandestine visit on earth.”

Uriel glared at him. “I do not know who killed him. I’ve recused myself from the investigation due to my conflict of interest. I’ll read about it in the final report. All I know is that I sent him on a peaceful mission and he never returned.”

Gabriel couldn’t help the harsh laugh that escaped him. She lied. If she wasn’t planning a rebellion, what was she up to? Could it be that his own sister found the idea of human companionship too tempting to resist? Was she perhaps hiding a Nephilim of her own, or one born to an angel in her choir?

She snarled at him, and he felt the abrasive scrape of her power, like a rasp against his flesh. “I mourn. He was a loyal member of my choir. I’ll thank you to understand my sorrow and respect the tragedy of our loss.”

He personally felt no sadness, no sense of loss over this angel, but he inclined his head in apology for his callousness. “Then what about Vaol? Raphael’s angel. He left a body behind without a mark on it. How did he die? Who could have done such a thing? ”