No Shadows Fall (14 page)

Kokabiel grinned. “I don’t envy you telling him.”

“Maybe I’ll tell him while I’m fucking him. Then he’ll be distracted.” Raziel sighed. “TMI, I know. So, we’ve got a dozen extra Nephilim wandering around. Whose kids are they?”

Kokabiel and Baraqiel looked at each other in bafflement. “I don’t know,” Baraqiel said.

“Penemuel, do you know?” Raziel asked.

Penemuel shook his head as well. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. But,” he went on thoughtfully, “that doesn’t mean I can’t track them down. If I can have their names, I can hunt up their family trees and trace their genealogies back.”

“All right, do it.” Raziel nodded. He gently removed the dog from his lap and the cat’s paws from his thigh and stood up. “Thank you,” he said. He looked at each of the Grigori seriously. “I made you a promise, Penemuel, and I keep my word. As of this moment, the three of you, Kokabiel, Baraqiel, and Penemuel of the choir of the Grigori, are under the protection and safety of the choir of the Archangels. This is the Word of God and sealed by His servant, I, Raziel, Archangel of Secrets and Mysteries.”

Outside, there came a crash of thunder and Penemuel jumped. He looked toward the window then back at Raziel, who nodded, an expression of satisfaction on his face.

“And done,” Raziel said. “All three of you are under our protection, now. You’re safe.”

Baraqiel took a deep breath. “Thank you, Raziel,” he said softly. “You don’t know what that means to us.”

“I can well imagine.” Raziel smiled.

“We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Kokabiel added. “That’s a promise.”

Raziel inclined his head respectfully.

“I’ll contact you as soon as I have the map and information about these Nephilim,” Penemuel promised, and Raziel nodded.

“Excellent. Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll see myself out.” He grinned, a roguish sort of expression, and vanished.

The three Grigori looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“Well,” Kokabiel said, “he certainly knows how to make his presence felt.”

Penemuel shook his head. “I need another drink.”

“Amen to that,” Baraqiel said, getting up. “I’ll get another bottle of gin from the kitchen. And maybe some food.”

“That would be good. Thanks, Bara.” Kokabiel smiled fondly, then turned to Penemuel. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you, Pen?”

“I’d be delighted,” Penemuel said sincerely.

It was late in the evening when Penemuel returned to his London home. Chloe and her mother were waiting for him, Chloe asleep on the sofa and covered with a light blanket. Penemuel was deeply touched by their concern.

Susan rose, gesturing for Penemuel to join her in the kitchen, and he followed without complaint.

“Is Chloe all right?” Penemuel asked.

“Yes, she’s fine, just tired.” Susan smiled. “How did your meeting go?”

Penemuel sighed. “The first one, with Semjaza, was… unpleasant, but not unexpected, all things considered. It was mercifully short, however. The second one, with Raziel, was much better.”

Susan nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. We were worried.”

Penemuel smiled. “I appreciate that. It’s not something I’m used to, though.”

“I would imagine not.” Susan patted his arm. “I’m glad it went well.”

“So am I.” Penemuel let out a slow breath. “It’s a great relief to know where I stand with the rest of my own kind after so long.”

R
AZIEL
PICKED
leaves out of his hair and huffed in annoyance. “Well, I think we can safely say Ahijah’s not in Cuba.”

Tzadkiel laughed. “Did you think finding him was going to be easy?”

“I live in hope.” Raziel pushed his hair back and rolled his eyes. “We’ve gone over every inch of this country and every damn trail he’s laid down ends in a dead end.”

“He’s learnt how to hide himself from us very well,” Brieus agreed, stomping his feet to clear the mud off his shoes.

“He’s somewhere around here, though.” Raziel narrowed his eyes as he spoke. “I can feel it. South America is his preferred place to be.”

“South America is a large place,” Sophiel said. She was busily rebraiding her long black hair. “Also, the closer we get to the equator, the hotter and more humid it’s going to get. We should carry water supplies.”

“Sophiel’s right.” Brieus rested his hands on his hips. “I know Cuba, Raziel. What we’re going through with the jungles and the bugs and the heat is nothing compared to how it’ll be when we cross that equatorial line.”

Raziel grunted. “You’re probably right. But where are we going to get clean water from out here?” He gestured to the jungle that was all around them. “We can hardly ’port to Casa de Fidel Castro and ask him for water, can we?”

Brieus laughed. “I doubt it. No, if we ’port into Nicaragua, we should be able to cover two things at once—getting water for us and following up those trails.”

“Where did Ahijah learn how to hide himself from us so well?” Sophiel asked. She leaned back against a tree, wiping the palms of her hands on her pants.

Raziel sighed. “Probably from his father. I remember Semjaza used to get bloody pissy at Michael for taking an interest in his two boys. Hiwa would go to his lessons with Azazel, but Ahijah would always sneak off to listen to Michael tell him stories.”

“I can’t imagine that Michael would have taught him how to hide,” Sophiel said, her expression skeptical.

“Not intentionally, no, but he did tell the two boys a lot of stories. Ahijah was always quick to pick things up. He probably figured out ways to use his Nephilim senses to his own advantage from the stories that Michael told him about the War in Heaven and the First War on Earth. Then, too, he was always hiding in the library in Eden—Semjaza didn’t like his children spending time with any of our kind that he hadn’t chosen for them.”

“Semjaza sounds like an arrogant asshole,” Brieus noted.

“He was. He probably hasn’t changed much.” Raziel suddenly laughed. “Considering he went straight to the ruined city of Ur and tried to get into Eden via the catacombs and underground passages without believing I’d make sure no one could use those routes, he hasn’t lost any of his vanity, either.”

“How do you mean?” Sophiel tilted her head to the left as she looked at him.

Raziel waved a hand to ward off the persistent gnats that swarmed around them, accompanied by mosquitoes eager to taste their blood.

“When we were in Eden,” he began, “our job—the Archangels’—was to make sure that the city was a refuge for all and that no demons could get into it. I built it during the First War on Earth as a sanctuary for the wounded on our side. That was before humanity was created, though. Uriel helped me with the construction, but the majority of the city was designed and made by me. In any event, we angelkind weren’t to interfere with the humans there, once they were made, and we were to leave their guardianship to the Grigori. In the beginning, everything was as it should be. Semjaza began to push his boundaries, though, because, I think, he wanted to be an Archangel. We
are
rather a lot stronger and more powerful than he is. Or maybe he just wanted our power without the titles. Anyway, Ishtahar was born, and he decided that in order to be a proper king, he needed a queen. She was his High Priestess and she was beautiful.” Raziel paused a moment, his eyes distant as he remembered those early days of humanity. “No,” he corrected himself, “she wasn’t beautiful. She was absolutely breathtaking. I know I make her sound like some sort of impossibly perfect fairy-tale heroine, but humanity was in its infancy then, and she was the most beautiful human any of us had ever seen. She’s still beautiful to this day—like a great many other humans are. Anyway, I digress.

“It wasn’t just her looks, it was her personality. She was clever, kind, always smiling. She always had a kind word and a smile for everyone around her. She was a gentle girl, and she was totally unprepared for the lust of an angel. Hell, even Uriel adored her from the moment he met her, and Uriel doesn’t adore any human. Except Ishtahar. She had a way about her then, when she was young and innocent, a light in her soul that we could all see. Remiel was smitten with her, but he knew she was destined to be Semjaza’s High Priestess, so he kept a lid on his emotions.

“And then Semjaza took her as his High Priestess, wrote the name of God on her skin, down into her cells, her DNA. He took her to his bed, and it was not… well, let us just say that the term ‘original sin’ doesn’t really come from the marriage of Adam and Eve. And it has nothing to do with serpents or apples. Semjaza wanted offspring; he was bound and determined to have Ishtahar bear them. She had two children, stillborn, both girls. Semjaza was enraged—I’m not sure what it was that angered him more, that they were girls or that they were stillborn. Then she got pregnant again and had Hiwa. It was a very, very hard labor. Raphael beat Semjaza’s head against the wall of the Fountain of Uriel afterward, but it didn’t stop him from getting her pregnant again, and she had Ahijah.

“In the old tongue of angelkind, Hiwa meant hope. Ahijah meant joy. Ishtahar loves her sons very much. She doesn’t blame them at all for how they were conceived. I’m not so sure that if I were in her place that I could be so forgiving.”

Sophiel frowned hard, her brows knitted together. “I know I would not be.”

“Quite so.” Raziel took a long, deep breath and exhaled loudly. “So after all that happened, and Gabe went and had some words with Semjaza and locked him up in Aquila, Uriel got Michael and I to take Ish and the babies somewhere safe while he unleashed Noah’s Flood. Remiel was busily flagellating himself with guilt, so he punished himself with a penance that lasted a thousand years. God Himself had to step in and tell him to stop it, because it wasn’t Remiel’s fault at all. Ishtahar had been made barren during the birthing of Ahijah, and she prayed to ask God to make sure that she stayed barren. God did, and of course you know the rest of the story.”

“Ishtahar was given immortality as a punishment because she felt she deserved it,” Tzadkiel said. “God never thought she did. I certainly didn’t think she did. But by giving her immortality, God blessed her by letting her live to be a mother to her children and to take up what became her lifelong vocation, caring for the underprivileged children in the world and men and women who have suffered sexual abuse. She and Agrat worked at halfway houses and orphanages all around the world together. They still work together on these and other projects—clean water, food, tools and equipment to build homes in impoverished countries.”

“I like Ish.” Sophiel smiled. “Not just because of what you have told us, but because she is a very sweet woman.”

“She really is.” Raziel laughed. “The first time she kissed Uriel’s cheek, he turned red as a tomato, spluttered for ten minutes then stomped off to sulk. He’d never been touched by a human before then, and she just bounced up to him, said, ‘Dear Uriel,’ and kissed his cheek.”

Tzadkiel laughed. “Uriel’s cold, black heart softened just a tiny bit that day.”

“He broke Semjaza’s nose a few days after that, because Semjaza had shoved Ish down a flight of stairs because she disagreed with his ideas of child-raising.” Raziel scowled. “I really hate that Semjaza is free. And—oh what the bloody hell is it now? Another summoning? Fucking hell. How bloody annoying.” He rolled his eyes. “Go to Nicaragua. I’ll meet you there.” With that, Raziel vanished.

O
NCE
R
AZIEL
had gone, Tzadkiel squared his shoulders. “Let’s do as he says. I’m getting tired of being a banquet for mosquitoes here in the jungle.”

Brieus laughed. “None of you prepared for this hunt at all.”

“You could have warned us, Bri,” Sophiel said, poking his shoulder with her left index finger.

“I believe I did. I said to bring water and insect repellent. Not my fault none of you listened to me.” Brieus grinned. “So, start in the capital and work our way out?”

Tzadkiel nodded. “Yes. Managua it is.”

“Right you are, boss.” Brieus nodded. “Follow me.” He disappeared with a rustle of feathers.

Sophiel grinned at Tzadkiel, and together they followed Brieus to Nicaragua.

Brieus was waiting for them beside a store that sold goods for tourists. He was smoking a cigar and chatting calmly in Spanish with a wizened old man holding a rickety bicycle. As Sophiel and Tzadkiel walked up to him, Brieus patted the old man on the shoulder in a comradely fashion, and the old man grinned a toothy grin at him, waved, and walked away, pushing his bicycle beside him.

“What was that about?” Tzadkiel asked.

“Paolo’s an old friend of mine,” Brieus said. “He told me that there aren’t any demon nests in the country this week. The people in the villages are rejoicing. He wanted to thank me for keeping Rabdos out of the country for another week.”

“Oh.” Tzadkiel nodded. “Good.”

“I also thought that we could make use of the goods in this store. They have clean water and insect repellent. We should get as much as we can carry of the former and enough for four of us of the latter.”

“Why aren’t we using our powers to get rid of the insects?” Sophiel asked.