No Shadows Fall (21 page)

“That looks tasty,” Adramelek said, sitting at the table.

“Oh, it is, sir.” Markus grinned. “Curly fries are delicious. Would you care for one?”

“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.” Adramelek took a fry, laughing as Ondrass shuddered.

“My meatsuit’s arteries are hardening just looking at that,” Ondrass said. “How can you eat it?”

“It’s tasty,” Markus said with a grin.

“I believe I’ll order one of those meals for myself,” Adramelek agreed. He grinned at Ondrass. “Human food is strange and unfathomable sometimes, but a good burger and fries has a lot to recommend it.”

“Disgusting,” Ondrass said, curling his lip.

After Adramelek and Markus had eaten their burgers and fries, Adramelek dabbed delicately at his lips with a paper napkin. “So,” he said, picking up his soda, “do we know of a medium who meets our requirements?”

“While you two were feeding your faces”—Ondrass wrinkled his nose—“I took the liberty of reaching out through the world with my power. There’s a woman in Vancouver, Canada, who does actually have some talent. She is, unfortunately, a little, ah, deluded.”

“In what way?” Adramelek quirked an eyebrow.

“She believes herself to be the chosen bride of Satan,” Ondrass said with a perfectly straight face.

Adramelek choked on his soda. “She what?”

“Believes herself to be the chosen bride of Satan.” Ondrass grinned. “As I said, a little deluded.”

“More than a little. Shit. Okay, well, we’ll flatter her, get her to do her thing, and go.”

“So, lie to her,” Markus said.

“Yes.” Adramelek finished his soda. “Time is of the essence, I believe. I doubt that Semjaza will be waiting around for spring to start off his campaign, whatever it may be.”

“Very well. Let us go to Vancouver.” Ondrass stood abruptly. “I devoutly hope you don’t plan to eat nothing but this sort of greasy fare today, Markus.”

“Of course not, sir.” Markus grinned. “It’s a taste that, once satisfied, I find I can live without for years at a time.”

“Good.” Ondrass said and marched out of the burger bar. Adramelek laughed and, with Markus, followed him out.

Together, they rounded a corner and walked down a narrow alley. Ondrass took a quick look around, then placed his hands on Markus’s and Adramelek’s shoulders, and moved them.

They emerged in the middle of a cluttered one-room apartment in Vancouver. Adramelek found himself standing on old pizza boxes and ripped magazines. Sitting on a ragged blue sofa was a woman with lank brown hair and wearing a faded, oversized T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Her feet were bare and none too clean. She was staring at the three of them with an expression of almost religious ecstasy on her face, and her apartment smelled of stale incense.

“Behold!” Ondrass began, preparing to launch into a speech about being an Archdemon and how this woman was blessed above all others to receive them in her home. She cut him off, however, before he could begin his spiel.

“I know who you are, Lord Ondrass. And you too, Lord Adramelek. I don’t know you, though.” She looked at Markus. “What can I do for your august selves?”

“You can tell us where the Brotherhood of Archangels is currently located,” Adramelek said without preamble. He did not want to linger in this apartment with its detritus and dirt.

She blinked owlishly at him and then nodded. “All right.”

As they watched, she closed her eyes and began to chant, Latin phrases falling effortlessly from her lips. Adramelek looked around him after several moments and saw that the ceiling of the apartment was covered with sigils and symbols of power. Grudgingly, he admitted that putting the necessary markings on the ceiling was a rather clever way to do it. Rather than rip up carpet, the ceiling was easier to paint, and most people wouldn’t bother to look up to see the medium’s artwork.

“They are on the island that is the Holy Isle,” the medium intoned, her voice now sonorous with her gift. “The Isle that is north and known to mankind as Iona.”

Adramelek and Ondrass exchanged a long look, and Adramelek turned to the medium. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll be off.”

The medium blinked several times, and her expression became calm. “I’m glad to help. Anything for my lord Lucifer.”

“Ah. Yes. Right.” Adramelek shook his head. “Well. Good-bye.” He didn’t bother to wait for Ondrass and Markus, instead moving straight to Scotland and emerging in the world in the village of Fionnport, on the Isle of Mull.

It was cold, the wind whipping over the moors and bending the few scraggly trees. Adramelek shivered and drew his coat around him.

“Miserable climate,” Ondrass said from behind him, and Adramelek turned.

“Yes, not at all to my liking.” Adramelek nodded back toward the sea. “Iona’s just over the water.”

“And we can’t go there.” Ondrass huffed a sigh. “We should have gotten the medium to divine the cell phone number for Raziel.”

“Does Raziel have a cell phone?” Adramelek asked in surprise.

“I’d be more surprised if he didn’t. Oh well, I suppose we should do this the long way and find ourselves a public telephone with a phone directory and telephone the hotels and motels on Iona.”

“What a slow way to do business,” Adramelek grumbled. “I can’t think of a better way, though.”

Ondrass nodded, pulling a thick woolen scarf to him with his power and winding it around his neck. “I suppose the post office would be the place to start.”

“The post office it is, then,” Adramelek agreed.

A
S
THEY
crested the rise of the hills nearest the village, Raziel paused. He looked down at the cluster of cottages and other buildings, the glow of their lights shining in the windows. He calculated it was not long after ten in the evening, so most of the residents of Iona were still awake.

“What’s up?” Uriel quirked an eyebrow at him.

Raziel rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in them. “Nothing, really. I’m just thinking. So much has happened in the last eighty odd years. Like you said, it’s been an extremely busy century thus far. And it’s been the first century in quite a good long while that our entire Brotherhood has been in each other’s company.

“We go eons without coming together, only seeing those whom we work with or are bonded to,” Raziel went on, “that it should feel strange or awkward to be together so much now. We are, for want of a better term, practically in each other’s pockets. We know who’s fucking who, who’s working with who, we tease each other and yell at each other. So far, there hasn’t been any great conflict among us.”

“Yeah, and now you’ve gone and jinxed it,” Uriel said. “I don’t know why you get so philosophical after sex.”

“Clearly you are my inspiration,” Raziel deadpanned. “Your hidden depths—which are, I might add,
really
hidden—are visible to me only and influence me unduly.”

“Yup, that sounds about right,” Uriel said, grinning. “Anyway, you’re not to tell anyone I have hidden depths. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Raziel snorted. “Babe, you’re many things, but unpredictable isn’t one of them.”

“Whatever.”

Raziel was about to answer that when his cell phone rang. Surprised, he looked at his lover. “Did you give anyone my number?”

“No?” Uriel looked just as confused as Raziel felt. “I didn’t know you even had one of those carbon ape things. Why do you have it?”

“In a moment.” Raziel pulled the phone from his other pocket and answered it. “Yes?”

“Ah, Raziel,” said a familiar voice. “It’s been a while, don’t you agree?”

Raziel groaned. “Ondrass. What do you want? And how did you get my number?”

“I’m very well, Raziel, thank you ever so much for asking, your manners are truly impeccable and the wonder of the known world. Markus is also very well as is Adramelek, and we are all moved beyond words by your mastery of the social mores and graces.”

“Ondrass, you make me tired. If this is you moved beyond words, I hate to think what you’re like when you’re orating.”

“Once a Roman, always a Roman, I suppose. Or when in Rome, as the saying goes.” Ondrass hummed in Raziel’s ear. “So, to answer your questions, I want to meet with you and your Brotherhood to discuss a certain feathery problem.”

Raziel shook his head in disgust. “If you have information, you can tell me now. I’ll pass it on.”

“Oh no, that just wouldn’t do.” Ondrass purred in Raziel’s ear. “Meet me and my associates tomorrow in Armenia. I’m sure you’ll deduce where exactly in Armenia we will be. Toodles!”

The connection ended, and Raziel pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it. “He makes my teeth hurt.”

“What did he want?” Uriel demanded.

“A meeting.” Raziel sighed. “Time to gather the troops.”

“You can get Mike and Gabe. I don’t want to walk in on their sexy times.” Uriel wrinkled his nose.

“And what makes you think that I want to see that?” Raziel demanded.

“It’s a hunch.” Uriel kissed Raziel’s cheek.

“Michael would blush a full-body blush, anyway,” Raziel went on, “and it’s difficult not to chortle when he blushes.”

“Can you blush all over?” Uriel looked surprised.

“Actually… I don’t know. I suppose, maybe, if your skin pigmentation is right. After all, some people sunburn far easier than others and….”

Uriel held up a hand. “Enough. I don’t care. Let’s go get them all up and into the living room.”

They started down toward the cottage they were all staying in. Raziel suddenly groaned and smacked himself in the forehead.

“I’m an idiot. Those damn Archdemons are going to visit Lyudmila!”

“Your werewolf friend?”

“She is the Queen of the Eastern Bloc Weres, yes.” Raziel was worried and growing more so by the minute. The prospect of an Archdemon or two or more paying a visit to someone who had made it clear that she was allied to the Archangels was giving Raziel all sorts of concerns. He was worried that Lyudmila might find herself in a terrible situation, and while he had no qualms about killing Ondrass or Adramelek or any of their Hell-dwelling allies, he didn’t want them to hurt Lyudmila before he got to her.

“How did they find out about her?” Uriel said, his expression astonished.

Raziel scowled. “I don’t know.”

“You can never tell with him.” Uriel shook his head. “He’s a pain in the ass. I want to kill him, you know. Him and Adramelek both. And his PA.”

“Markus would fall apart without Ondrass anyway.” Raziel took Uriel’s hand in his.

“He is pretty loyal.”

Raziel shot Uriel an amused look. “Because they’re lovers, babe.”

Uriel’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, fuck me sideways and call me Sally.”

“Okay, Sally.” Raziel laughed as Uriel growled. “You did say it.”

They reached the cottage and entered. Raziel canted his head to the side as he reached out with his power, looking for the rest of the Brotherhood.

“Most of them are already in the living room,” he said. “I’ll go and get the others.”

“Okay.” Uriel gave him a quick kiss and walked off.

Raziel went upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. He rapped sharply on the closed doors, calling through the wood that he’d had a call from Ondrass and that everyone was gathering downstairs, so hurry up and get dressed and get down there. Then he retraced his steps and went down to the living room.

Remiel was sitting on the couch with Ishtahar at his side. On the other side of her was Hiwa, and Ahijah sat on the floor at her feet. They made an almost perfect family tableau, and Raziel smiled fondly as he entered the room and sat down in an empty chair. Samael, Tzadkiel, Sophiel, Brieus, Shateiel, Agrat, Haniel, and Metatron were also present.

Raphael and Israfel entered the room a few moments later, Israfel’s dirty-blond hair mussed and his cheeks pink. Raziel didn’t need to ask what they’d been up to; it was as loud as if Israfel had shouted it from the rooftops. Raphael looked a little embarrassed, but he was smiling, and the two of them were holding hands. As Raphael sat down, Israfel sat in his lap, curling into him, and Raziel suppressed the urge to “aww.” Sometimes, he thought, it was ridiculous how cute some of his choir could be with their partners.

Michael and Gabriel were only a few moments after Raphael and Israfel. Michael’s face was calm, but there was a bite mark on his neck that hadn’t been there at the meeting they’d had in the pub earlier in the day. Raziel suppressed a broad grin. Gabriel looked as he always did, calm and unruffled.

Once they were seated, Raziel coughed to call the impromptu meeting to order.

“I just received a telephone call,” he began. “It seems that our good friends the Archdemons wish to speak to us about the Grigori. Ondrass, Adramelek, and Ondrass’s PA, Markus, want to meet us tomorrow in Armenia.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “This is getting bloody ridiculous,” he said. “We can’t turn around without ’em sticking their oar in.”

“Quite. However, it would behoove us to attend,” Raziel said. “I believe they will be waiting for us at the flat of Lyudmila.”

Michael frowned. “How do you know that?”