Sunrise and television.
It was another morning for Heart. She had slept a little longer this
time, but sleep was still more an indulgence than a need. She flipped
channels idly as Seraph slept, searching for something that wasn't
violent or depressing. The television wasn't being cooperative.
She scanned around the room, noting the lingering scent of jasmine and
the tattered remnants of Seraph's dress, and reflected on Aphrodite's
visit last night. It had been centuries since the last time she had
thought of her life before becoming an angel, that brief span of time as
a mortal.
She had been born in Rome to a Celtic mother and a Greek father, slaves
to a wealthy patrician. Her mother had given her the flaming red hair
and the beauty that had caught the eyes of the priestesses at Venus's
temple, and her father had been overjoyed when they had approached her
master. Her mother had been dubious at first; worried she would be a
sacrifice, but had been reassured by her father's descriptions of the
life of comfort she would lead as a temple maid of Venus.
Indeed, for much of her young life, she had led a life of comfort,
learning the ways of Venus, preparing for the day she would become a
full priestess. But she had always been a curious child, given more to
study or exploring the city of Rome than indulging in the luxuries of
the temple.
It had been on one of her forays she'd stopped to listen to a
charismatic speaker, a wandering speaker who taught about a Jew named
Jesus. She'd been touched by his words, his teachings, and had found
herself swept along in the wake of his passage. He had a gift for words,
a way of inspiring people that Heart had never seen, and his story of
the sacrifice of Christ had made her examine the future she would have
as a priestess, a life of indulgence and luxury regardless of Venus's
messages of love, and had she had been ashamed.
Her life as a Christian had been harder than her life as a priestess
would have been, but she had counted it a fair trade for the sins she
had been convinced her earlier life had been. She had helped and aided
the poor and her fellow Christians for the few months she had left as a
human until she had died, a victim of a riot that culminated in the
burning of Rome. She had never even felt the blade that had killed her.
An announcer's comment about "The Gladiators of Rome" caught her ear and
brought her out of the reverie. She stayed as the show went to
commercials, curious as to what the program was about. Her memories of
the past were so remote, and she couldn't even remember her death. She'd
simply tried to get out of the street into an alley, and had found
herself on the long golden stair. She'd never even felt sad about it,
too fascinated with the new world she had found herself in.
The show came back on and she found herself watching a documentary on
the NFL, which was apparently an organization of athletes who played a
game called football. She was fascinated with the parallels to her
memories of the Coliseum, the huge stadiums, the bright banners, the
roars of the crowd; it all brought back the memories of the times she
had been part of that crowd, watching the entertainments and contests.
She had never developed a taste for watching the gladiators, and was
glad to see that football didn't seem to be lethal.
"I've always felt that they lost the point when they took away their
swords," came a sleepy mumble from the bed.
Heart turned to look at the yawning succubus. "I was never really all
that interested in the fighting, Beloved. I always went to see the
spectacles, the animals, the shows. I didn't like the bloodshed. I don't
even like it when I've had to defend myself." She smiled as she rose and
went to sit on the edge of the bed. "I was just reminiscing. I was only
about 14 when I died. I never really went to many of the circuses."
Seraph stretched, arching her back seductively as her tail wrapped
around the angel. "I was never into it either. It's a comment on the
pointlessness of the sport." Seraph grinned at Heart's appreciative
gaze. "I've just never been much for sports, dear." She gave Heart a
seductive look. "At least, anything other than bedroom Olympics."
Heart giggled. "I don't know, beloved. I'll have to watch this
'football' and see what I think."
Seraph yawned hugely, her wings vibrating as she stretched. "Just so
long as you don't turn me into a football widow in favor of the
Superbowl." She grinned as she finished the stretch.
Heart tweaked her. "I'd never do that." She smiled at Seraph's purr of
pleasure. "I was waiting for you to order breakfast."
Seraph nodded and rolled out of the bed, her wings shrinking to fit in
the room. "Yeah, we need to find a new place. Hopefully, one with plenty
of headroom." She winced as she placed her weight on her wrapped leg.
"Are you okay?" Heart asked, concerned.
"Yeah. Your spell did wonders, Beloved. It's just a dull ache. I'll
survive."
"I'm sorry I didn't warn you in time," Heart said contritely.
Seraph blinked. "Beloved... You had no way of knowing he was going to
strike like that. I'm sorry I let you get clobbered by Vrock."
Heart rubbed the back of her head. "I'm okay, Beloved. Not even a bruise
anymore. Are you hungry?"
"Ravenously."
Breakfast went quickly as they looked over the paper. Page after page of
apartments were listed. Seraph was soon rubbing her eyes as Heart gazed
serenely through the ads. "How can you stand to read such small print?"
she asked the angel.
"Try going through page after page of tiny script. This is easy." Heart
smiled. "Especially with my glasses. You can't imagine how happy I was
when they were developed."
Seraph quirked her head. "I had wondered about them. Aren't angels
supposed to be perfect?"
Heart sighed. "Maybe the original ones. There aren't too many of those
in heaven anymore. Mostly raised souls like me. I was nearly blind when
I died, and that stayed with me." She gave Seraph a dazzling smile.
"Besides, you said they made me look incredibly cute."
"I did?" Seraph raised an eyebrow. "They do, but I don't remember saying
that to you."
"It was behind the stage at Woodstock. When we were comparing notes. You
said, and I quote, 'you may look incredibly cute in those glasses, but I
think the rose tint is getting to you'."
Seraph giggled. "Dear, I was talking about you claiming credit for the
five we both hit. The ones we ended up saying were draws. I was
grousing!"
Heart sniffed. "You still said it. And I take it as a compliment."
Seraph smiled. "And you wonder why I love you so much?"
Heart smiled as she continued reading, then excitedly pointed to an ad.
"Oh, Beloved! I think this looks perfect."
Seraph peered over Heart's shoulder. "’Lover's Nest?’" She looked over
the jumble of letters following the title. "Not bad. Two bedroom, two
bath penthouse." She looked at the address. Right in the heart of the
village, where Aphrodite had suggested. She looked at Heart. "Looks good
to me. What about you?"
Heart smiled. "I have a good feeling about it."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The building was several stories high, and looked out over the Hudson
like a sage old woman in a rocking chair. The front it showed the street
was mostly plate glass store-front, trimmed in hunter's green, but above
that, a stone facade gazed down on the angel and the demon with all the
sobriety and authority of a Norman keep. Tall, stylized windows
reminiscent of arrow slits rose in intervals up the side, carved rampant
lions supporting them in stone paws. Carved stone battlements graced the
top, and Seraph shuddered as she saw the winged figures that glared out
from their places on the crenellations.
"Gargoyles," she said nervously, shivering again.
Heart looked at them too, patting Seraph's hand. "It'll be alright,
Love. I'm sure if we can show them that you love me, like we did Thor."
"They still won't like me," Seraph frowned. She turned and made as if to
walk back to the car. Heart did a little pirouette and grabbed her
around the waist, facing her back at the building.
"We won't know if we don't try," Heart told her. "And I told you I had a
good feeling about this place..." She trailed off as they approached the
storefront and she got her first look at the shop.
The windows were filled with a huge jumble of books, candles, statues,
and sundry other objects. Dried flowers wreathed around a small
silver-hilted dagger carved into the shape of a dragon, and several
tarot cards showed their faces next to it.
Seraph grinned. "An occult shop. You're right, Beloved. It can't be all
that bad."
Heart swallowed hard. "Witches," she whispered. Then she shook her head
and seemed to resolve herself. "They're only humans who know magic.
That's all, right?" She looked at Seraph for reassurance.
"Some of them," Seraph teased. She relented when Heart blanched. "Most
of them don't have the faith to do real magic, Love, and you said you
had a good feeling, right? And I liked the ad."
Heart nodded, a little more confidently. "Let's try it," she said,
reassuring herself with another glance up at the gargoyles.
Seraph noted the look and hesitantly reached out to touch the door,
sighing in relief at the lack of screams. More confidently, she pushed
the door open and followed Heart inside.
A wall of patchouli-saturated air greeted her first step inside,
immediately sending Seraph into a fit of sneezing. This elicited a
glance from the clerk, a tall, slender woman with an unruly mop of curly
light brown hair. She rose an eyebrow at the pair before returning to
her task of rearranging semi-precious stones. Her studious disregard
shielded her obvious curiosity, aided by a pair of huge owl-rimmed
glasses of a type preferred by animated canine historians.
After her sneezing fit, Seraph and Heart looked around. Before them was
a veritable library filled with books whose spines had never been
cracked. Titles like The Goddess and You and Wicca: Ancient Religion of
Ireland abounded, making Heart nearly burst out laughing. She would
have, but in between the neo-pagan bibles and love-spell books were the
occasional tomes of actual wisdom.
To the left was a long glass counter, laden with diadems, jewelry heavy
with assorted stones and symbols, and small pewter figurines of fairies
and unicorns. The clerk and the cash register sat at the far end. Three
doors led out of the shop, one right behind the clerk leading into an
office from which came the sounds of someone bustling about. The second
door was to the left of the clerk and it was closed, as was the door
leading deeper into the building, its green exit sign glowing brightly.
"Who do we talk to?" Seraph wondered.
"Someone called Mama." Heart looked at the cashier dubiously. "Do you
think she's Mama?"
Seraph shook her head. "Not her. Someone named Mama is going to look a
lot older than that. But we can ask her."
Before Heart could protest — not that she had planned to anyway — Seraph
had strode purposefully up to the clerk, her tail narrowly dodging
collisions with the various displays as her hooves clicked on the tile.
The woman dropped her guise of adjusting stones and greeted the succubus
with a wry grin.
"You're not fooling me with those clothes," she said before Seraph had a
chance to speak. Her large brown eyes didn't have to rise far to meet
Seraph's after a cursory inspection of the black mini and halter. "Any
psychic can see how undeveloped your orange chakra is. You're looking
for a love spell, aren't you?"
"Well, actually—" Seraph began before she was overrun by the overzealous
woman.
"You shouldn't worry about finding love with an aura as pure as yours,"
she continued as she started pulling jars off the shelves behind the
counter. Seraph could smell them even over the pervasive patchouli. The
woman placed them on the counter as she kept talking. "Still, I think we
can make a great potion for you. Let's see — some mugwort, Balm of
Gilead, High John the Conqueror—"
"That's not why we're here," Seraph attempted again.
"We?" The woman's gaze locked onto Heart. "Oh, yes, of course. A new
initiate in the craft!" She leaned conspiratorially towards Seraph. "We
seasoned elders need to take them all under our wings. She'll need
careful guidance. I sense such darkness hovering around her."
Seraph rose an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, Heart
interrupted.
"We're looking for someone named Mama."
The clerk's face fell as an air of resignation set in. She turned to the
open door and called out, "Mama!"
The door opened fully and an older woman stepped out, surrounded by a
cloud of smoke that had Seraph sniffing with glee. In all appearances,
she looked like a gypsy grandmother with her brightly colored skirt and
creamy poet's shirt. The diklo on her head was as wildly colored as her
skirt and covered a wild shock of curly ebony hair with silver streaks
playing through it. A thick necklace of semi-precious stones hung to the
crest of an ample bosom due more to her corpulence than a generous
puberty. Hundreds of thin bangles chimed at her thick wrists, while her
well-muscled hands glittered with rings. Large gold hoops dangled from
her ears to tangle in her unruly hair. Despite her obvious age, she
still showed the traces of the vamp she had to have been in her youth.
She fixed the clerk with a gaze of resigned amusement, her dark eyes
glittering like opals.
"Honey, are you scaring the wicclets again?" she asked in an accent that
was pure Bronx.
"No," Honey replied defensively. She gestured to Heart and Seraph as she
said sullenly, "There's some people here to see you."
Mama looked at the pair appraisingly for a long moment, her expression
one of resignation mixed with wonder.
"So, you've come to see the apartment," she said with certainty. "At
long last. Come."
She walked towards the door with the "exit" sign, gesturing for the pair
to follow. Seraph and Heart gave each other a puzzled glance before
Seraph shrugged and headed for the door, Heart's arm through hers.
The door led to a hallway that made an L turn towards the back of the
building. Mailboxes were set into the walls on either side of a large
elevator. Mama bustled down to the elevator, her press of the button
garnering an almost instant opening of the conveyance.
The inside of the elevator featured a dark red wallpaper and a large
gold framed mirror on the back wall. Mama waited till they had entered,
Seraph nodding in approval at the high ceiling and door, then pressed
the top button on the control panel.
After a nearly noiseless ascent, they exited to a richly paneled hall
with matching double doors on opposite sides. A thick plush carpet ran
down the center of the marble tiled hall. "The original owner of this
building was a playboy in the twenties," Mama explained as she led them
to the door on the left. "He went broke in the Crash, and it went to the
bank. It's been through a string of owners until I inherited it in a
card game. Last owner swore it was cursed with bad luck. Can't say I've
found cause to agree with him."
As she paused to unlock the door, the opposite one opened, and a man
with short auburn hair and wire-rimmed glasses stepped out.
"Mama—" he started, then stopped dead as his gaze encountered Seraph's
cleavage directly in front his eyes. Slowly, his gaze rose to her face,
the look of lustful amazement changing to one of bewilderment. His hand
rose to cover his mouth from the top of his mustache to the bottom of
his goatee.
"Yes, Doug?" Mama asked, smiling and giving the man a pointed glance.
Doug focused on her, the confusion strong in his eyes. He took an
involuntary step back and looked at Seraph again, then took off his
glasses and cleaned them before looking at her a third time in
disbelief.
Heart and Seraph looked at each other, concern in their eyes. Doug noted
the look and turned to look at her. The glasses came off again as he
rubbed his eyes. Replacing them, he gave Heart a long look, then Seraph,
and shook his head.
"I clearly haven't had enough coffee yet. I'm seeing things." He turned
on his heel and entered the door he had come through, the dead bolt
locking with an audible click.
"Coffee," Mama snorted. "That's funny."
"What's his problem?" Seraph asked, looking after the departed man.
Mama opened the door to the apartment. "His problem is that he doesn't
believe his own eyes. Don't worry about him, he's harmless, and he'll
get used to you eventually."
Seraph hung back as Mama entered the apartment, grabbing Heart's elbow.
"Can he see us as we are, do you think?"
Heart shrugged. "I don't know. I've run into a few cases where my
assignment could see me, but they're usually people of strong faith and
belief. Demetrius, my harp maker, could see me, so could Caravaggio, but
they were exceptions, and very strong in their faith. I've always been
told that anyone who claims to be able to see us, but who doesn't follow
the faith, was insane." She gave a rueful grin. "Then again, they told
me the Greek and Norse Gods were a myth too."
"Hmm." Seraph looked at the closed door thoughtfully, then gave a little
shimmy as she shape-shifted to full human form. Heart nodded and cast a
light glamour on herself to hide her halo and aura. She wasn't worried
that many humans would actually try to hurt her, but there was no sense
to advertise who she was to someone who might just be aligned with Hell
and maybe alert someone like Bhaalor to her presence.
They entered the apartment, Seraph's heels clicking woodenly instead of
the musical chime of her hooves. They walked a few feet into the
interior of the main room and stopped, looking around in wonder. They
were both struck with memories of Versailles in its heyday. The high
ceilings arched far overhead, and the ornate decorations continued down
the walls to the polished marble floor. Light poured down from a
decorative chandelier and from the huge glass doors that led onto a wide
balcony. They stared in wonder for several long minutes before they both
realized that the room was far too large to fit into a building the size
of the one they had seen from outside.
"This is a great neighborhood," Mama said from beside the French doors.
"In all the years I've lived here, this building has never had a
break-in or robbery, nor attacks or assaults. It's like a safe haven."
She smiled at them. "This apartment is perfect for a couple, too. Cozy
enough to be home, but wide enough to spread your wings." She did a
pirouette that swirled her skirt before proceeding to one of the glass
doors and throwing it wide. She stepped out to the balcony and called
back to them, "From here, there are a lot of low buildings, so you can
see almost all of the best parts of the skyline." She stole a wistful
glance south before returning to the room and heading for a room off to
the side. Almost to herself, she added, "Almost all of them."
"You must see the bedroom," she called out as she vanished through the
door. "Lots of closet space, and the bathroom comes equipped with a
Roman bath."
Heart and Seraph were too busy examining the spacious living room and
the well-equipped kitchenette to pay much heed to what Mama was saying,
but Heart's ears perked up at the word "Roman". She stole barely a
glance at the cavernous master bedroom as she headed straight for the
doorway that presumably led to the bathroom. Sure enough, surrounded by
a toilet, bidet, sink and shower, was a huge bathtub set into the floor
and surrounded by tile decorated in a Greco-Roman key design.
"The best part is," Mama said from her shoulder, "Is that it has jets
and can double as a Jacuzzi."
Heart had no idea what that was, but she smiled happily anyway.
Seraph, meanwhile, had wandered into the sliding doors that concealed a
pair of walk-in closets. She smiled in delight at the shoe racks and the
wrap-around clothes bars. She could envision their wardrobes filling the
closets already.
Stepping back out into the bedroom, she laid a hand on the doorframe and
sighed. She was going to have to address the practical aspect of rent.
Heart had no concept of it, and the paper hadn't listed it. She looked
around the place and estimated the likely cost. She was well off with
what she brought in from the club, both dancing and with her yearly
profits, but this might be a stretch even for her. Her resources weren't
as nearly limitless as they had been.
She turned to look for Mama, only to find her standing and waiting for
her.
"You want to know how much?" she said before Seraph could say a word.
Seraph nodded.
Mama pulled a small pad and pencil from somewhere within the folds of
her dress and wrote down a figure. Seraph looked at it and blinked in
shock. It was maybe half of what she made a night. Twenty five hundred?
she thought in disbelief. For an apartment in the Village? This was less
than average for this area, where jobs made more money but everyone else
charged more, too.
Mama was looking at her expectantly, a confident smile on her face. She
knew her price was low, and was expecting Seraph to jump for it. Her
natural demonic paranoia kicked in. "What's the catch?"
The look of utter and sincere astonishment on the old woman's face made
her ashamed of her suspicion, and her shift to offended pride drove the
guilt home. She suddenly seemed nearly as tall as Seraph in her anger.
"I own the building, dearie, and I have six other floors of apartments
and the shop as well. I could give this apartment to you for free if I
wanted and not feel it. The catch is I'm a bored old lady, and want new
neighbors I can nose in on, and I can afford to give you a break because
I'm a sappy romantic and young love brings out the best in me. Now do
you take the apartment, or shall we call it a day?"
Heart caught Seraph's eyes over Mama's shoulder and the raised eyebrow
and amused smile decided her. She wrote down another figure down and
handed it back to Mama. "That should cover us for awhile."
Mama tucked the pad away without even looking at it. "I'll go draw up
the lease papers. Here's the keys."
"I want a pro-rated refund if we decide to leave," Seraph stated as she
took the pair of key rings with small heart charms.
"Of course. But you won't." Mama grinned. She turned and vanished
through the door. Heart bounced out of the bathroom door and grabbed
Seraph's hand.
"Oh, Beloved, is it really ours?" she gushed.
Seraph did a slow turn, looking around the apartment. "It looks like it,
Love." Her form shimmered as her shapeshift vanished and her wings
spread wide in a stretch. She looked at Heart and smiled. "You know,
you're right, I'm sharing your good feeling about this place, too."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton raised an eyebrow at the metaphysical shop before him, wondering
what had brought an angel to a place like this.
He'd waited outside the hotel all night, napping in the car and keeping
an eye out for the pair leaving. He'd debated about trying to bluff his
way in with his badge, but the place was upscale enough they'd want a
warrant before allowing him to disturb their guests. A bribe to the
doorman had gotten him a wave when the pair were about to leave, and
he'd followed them on foot to the village, and this store.
He couldn't figure out why Heart would have come here, though it
wouldn't surprise him if Seraph had occult connections. Still, it was
unusual. Most occultists who dabbled in demonology did so to control
them, and Seraph didn't seem like the sort of demon whom the average
occultist could control. In fact, he'd be hard-pressed to name any demon
he'd ever encountered who seemed to possess the aura of enormous power
Seraph did.
Curious, but not wanting to dive headfirst into a complete unknown, he
decided to scope the place out, but quickly, as he didn't want to miss
the pair coming out again.
The building had an alleyway down one side and he ducked down it, the
narrow space shutting out much of the noise of the street. It was
typical of most any alley in New York, filled with the requisite
dumpsters, a loading pad and a month's worth of old newspaper. The sole
exception to normalcy was an inconspicuous door with a small green
pentagram on it. Lipton looked at it and shook his head.
"Ritual Room," he muttered. "Wiccan."
:::Tee hee hee.:::
Lipton stopped, wondering if he'd actually heard that. Out of the corner
of his eye, something flitted through his vision and disappeared around
the back of the building. Lipton wasn't sure he'd actually seen it, but
he was sure enough that something was up to follow warily.
Drawing his pistol, he swung around the corner vigilantly, ready for an
attack. He wound up frozen, gazing into huge innocent green eyes. They
set perched atop a pert nose, and small heart-shaped lips, surrounded by
high cheekbones and sun-kissed strawberry blond hair. For some reason,
Lipton was reminded of Galadriel.
Her lithe body did little to dispel this image, even dressed as she was
in a tight halter top over a blue thermal shirt, cut-off Daisy Dukes
over black tights and beat-up Doc Martins. She looked about fifteen.
The faerie on her shoulder, peeking out from under the girl's golden
locks, was the clincher, though. At least, he assumed it was a faerie.
He estimated it was about six inches tall, though it was impossible to
say for certain, hidden as she was in the young girl's hair.
The girl was giving Lipton's gun an amused look. "I don't think you need
that thing," she said, turning her back to him and walking away.
Lipton holstered his weapon, feeling sheepish and a bit shocked.
"Angels and demons, then Nordic deities, and now faeries. I really must
be going nuts," he muttered, exasperated. "What the hell is next?"
::: He can see me!:::
"Ha!" he shouted at thin air. "I know I heard you that time!"
The girl stopped to look at him impatiently.
"Unless you're deaf, anyway," she said. "Are you coming?"
Beyond her, in the direction she was gesturing, was a garden, huge by
Manhattan standards. Several tiered stone bowls held herbs, spilling
over their sides in falls of fragrance and beauty. Flowers grew in neat
rows around the edge of the courtyard and vines grew up the sides of the
surrounding buildings. Lipton stared in amazement.
"And how did this little slice of nature come to be?" he asked the girl
as she waved him towards one of the dozen or so patio chairs scattered
around the garden.
The girl jerked an absent thumb at a grass- and flower-covered mound in
the center of the garden. "They like it here, and they like it like
this."
Lipton looked around. "They? You mean faeries?"
The girl gave him a curious look. "Who else would I mean?"
::: You have a problem with that? ::: the faerie had poked out further
from the girl's hair, allowing Lipton to see she had a long, wild shock
of hair colored every shade of Kool-aid.
Lipton rubbed his temples. "Why me?"
The girl smiled. "Because you're an angel's child."
Lipton stared at her in shock. "What'd you say?"
The girl blinked. "That's what Mama says. You can see faeries because
you're an angel's child. Like me, and Mama. Mom's not though. Mama says
it can skip generations."
Lipton shook his head. "Where the hell did you get that explanation
from?"
"Ask Mama." The girl shrugged.
"And who's Mama?"
"My grandmother. She owns the place. This is our garden... Well... It's
the faeries', but Mama owns the land."
::: She's nice to us, and we like her. ::: the faerie added. She finally
came out of the girl's hair, and Lipton saw she was dressed in a tiny
punked-out version of the girl’s clothes. The small spiked belt and
wrist bands with the wild hair reminded Lipton of the Eighties' punk
scene. The faerie walked down the girl's arm to give Lipton a hard look.
::: You ain't here to cause her trouble are you? ::: she asked
belligerently, her brightly-colored wings fluttering.
Lipton nearly laughed at the attitude the little faerie displayed, but
caught himself at the last moment with memories of the "jokes" faeries
played on mortals in the stories his grandmother used to tell him.
"I've never heard of her before, so I'm not here about her," Lipton said
matter-of-factly.
"So why are you here? Mama said she was expecting someone. Are you him?"
the girl queried.
Lipton shrugged. "I don't think so. I had no idea I was coming here, so
how could she?"
::: Mama knows. She reads Tarot. She told us to stay outside today. No
faeries in the building till she says so. :::
"Izzy! He doesn't need to know that," the girl said. "You know what Mama
said about talking to strangers! How do you know he's not a magic-user
looking for faerie parts?"
::: Because he doesn't have any magic. Just cold iron and holy
ammunition. ::: the faerie retorted. ::: Really, Moon, if you think I
didn't check him out before he came back here, you're crazy. :::
"Aren't you supposed to be in school today, anyway?" Lipton asked,
interrupting the imminent shouting match.
The girl gave the faerie a stuck-out tongue, then turned to Lipton.
"Izzy got me suspended this week."
::: I just taught that jerk not to pick on you! ::: the faerie
harrumphed.
"By graffiti all over his locker! The principal wouldn't believe I
didn't do it!" the girl protested.
::: At least I didn't turn his head into a donkey's. Puck would have!
:::
"You're not Puck! You've just read too much Shakespeare!"
"Okay! Okay! I didn't ask any of that!" Lipton said over the argument.
"Look, I'm just wanting some information. Please?"
The girl gave him a once over. "You're a cop. Why would you be
interested in faeries?"
"I'm a detective, and I'm not interested in faeries. I'm just surprised
to see one. I'm more used to angels or demons."
"Oh." The girl gave him a pitying look. "I know how bad it is seeing
them. Mama says I just have to ignore them, because if they realize I
can see them, they might hurt me. Mom talks about seeing them all the
time, but I don't think she really does, or she wouldn't be so casual
about them. I usually cross to the other side of the street if I see
them soon enough, and Mama's gargoyles keep evil away from here." She
said the word almost cautiously.
"Gargoyles?" Lipton looked up at the carved figures on several levels of
the building.
"They scream when evil comes close. None of it can enter the building or
come down the alley. Just like a church."
Lipton shook his head. "I don't think they work like that, kid. I
watched a demon enter not to long ago."
::: Only those who bear no intent of harm may pass the gargoyles
unmolested. Their scream will drive all others away and summon the fae
warriors to defend the mound. ::: the faerie insisted. ::: It would take
a Demon Lord to drive his minions into a building guarded by gargoyles
and fae. The Seelie do not treat demons kindly. :::
"I see," Lipton said. "So the gargoyles would warn you if any, say,
demon entered?" He tried to make the question look casual.
::: Yes. Unless their master told them not to. :::
Lipton was prevented from asking any other questions by a door opening
in the back wall. A tall woman with a mop of curly blonde hair and huge
owl glasses poked her head out.
"Moonbunny! Mama said you could come back in now. I need you to watch
the store while I check in the delivery."
"But mom! I'm busy! Izzy and I were explaining about gargoyles to this
cop!"
"Now, Moonbunny." The woman waited till the girl and the faerie had gone
back inside then turned to Lipton. "I'm so sorry she bothered you,
officer. She tries hard, but she's young and her knowledge of the Craft
is limited. I try, but it's so hard to get her to study real lore." She
gave Lipton a appraising look, like she was sizing up a steak. "If you
are truly interested in learning about magick, I would be happy to
discuss it with you over... Dinner?"
Lipton had seen that look on far to many women to miss it. He debated
about setting a date for all of three seconds before deciding no. As
overeager as she was, there was no telling how many other "boyfriends"
she had dangling.
"Actually, I'm afraid I have to go. I was just curious about the
gargoyles and your daughter was kind enough to tell me about them."
"That's very kind of you. Still, if you'd like to know more, I'd be more
than happy to answer your every desire." Her voice had dropped slightly
into a sultry tone. Lipton stepped back.
"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind." He turned to the alleyway and
headed off. He could feel the woman's eyes burning into his back the
entire way.
Safely back in the alley, Lipton mused about what the girl had said
about angel children and gargoyles. He snorted at the idea he was a
child of an angel. His parents had been entirely too pedestrian for any
such flights of fancy. Besides, what self-respecting angel would be
caught dead in Jersey?
The gargoyles were something else. He'd heard about that before, though
he'd never seen it happen. Then again he'd never seen a demon within a
block of a church either.
But he'd seen Seraph enter the building with nary a peep from the
watchful stone figures.
A demon who intended no harm, or else someone ordered the gargoyles not
to sound an alarm. I wish I knew which it was.
Still, he had confirmed his quarry couldn't sneak out a back way, so he
found a place where he could watch the building and waited. It was just
a waiting game until he had more information. Sooner or later he'd get
to the bottom of the mystery of Seraph Darkfell.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Seraph Darkfell.
The name rode the crest of Theliel's thoughts, eroding his other
concerns. He sat at one of the massive tables in the Great Library,
surrounded by a myriad of texts. Presently, he was leafing through a
text on succubae, but finally slammed it shut when he realized it was a
waste of time. Nowhere could he find any information on the greater
demons, save those who had Fallen during the Great War. He had found
page after page on those who had sided with Lucifer, but nothing on the
deities and other creatures who had been demonized as the G.O.D.s
influence had expanded, not even her, and if she wasn't there, Darkfell
wouldn't be either.
The sound of the heavy book slamming shut cast a thunderous echo around
the library. The echoes faded, leaving behind the clicking of sandals on
tile. Theliel looked up in surprise that quickly turned to impatience as
he drew another book from the pile on the desk.
"Whatever is the matter, Theliel?" Temporiel asked from beneath her
birka. Her eyes flashed in the shadows, narrowing at the handsome Cupid.
"Feeling a little... jealous?"
Theliel gave her a raised eyebrow. "Why should I be jealous?" he asked,
waving her question off as he calmly continued his search.
"This Seraph Darkfell has been a thorn in your side for quite some time,
has she not? Stealing first your mother's affections, then Harteriel's?
And was she not the demon who took Valentiniel's life at the end of that
little fiasco?"
Theliel kept his face neutral as he shrugged. "No one knows the details
of that. She might have, she might not have. I don't know."
Temporiel trailed her fingers across his shoulders as she stepped around
him. "Yet you want her so badly, this succubus who continually steals
your prizes." She leaned over the table, her dark robes casting a shadow
over the book. "One would think she would be dangerous prey. Yet you
continue to try and win her to our cause?"
"A powerful enemy can also be a powerful ally," Theliel quipped.
"Indeed." Temporiel thumbed through one of the books Theliel had
discarded. "Yet since you have not found what you seek, I would surmise
that she is a demi-demon. How do you plan to win a demi-demon, Theliel,
or even capture her alive?"
"Demi-demons are just older," Theliel said dismissively. "It doesn't
make them untouchable. My mother learned that, no?"
"Older than you, Theliel, old and powerful. One of the First." Temporiel
met his eyes. "Older than even the Old Man, perhaps."
"And why is it that you, of all people, are speaking of such things,
eh?" Theliel leaned back and crossed his arms, giving Temporiel a wry
grin. "Your department has always taken such pains to eradicate accurate
knowledge of what came before the Son. Why such an interest now?"
Temporiel paused for a long second. "There is a human seeking the
demon," she finally said. "He has the Sight. He can see the Old Ones."
Theliel laughed. "A human?" he exclaimed. "You tart. Humans assume
they've gone mad if they see anything we say isn't there. A sample of
your handiwork, no?"
Temporiel slammed the book closed. "This human is different, Cupid!" she
exclaimed angrily. "He has met the War-Walker! Seen and spoken to him.
He has battled demons! He does not accept our explanations, and my spies
have told me he has met with the Hornblower!"
"Gabriel?" Theliel looked at her in disbelief. At her nod, he leaned
forward over the table, propping his chin on his hands. "Gabriel has not
been seen since—"
"Since the Son left Heaven," Temporiel finished for him. "If the human
discovers that, we may find our grip on humankind weakened. The Old Man
would not be pleased."
Theliel sat back again and placed his hands behind his head. "So why are
you telling me this?"
"As I said, he seeks the demon. He must not be allowed to join her. He
knows too much already that is dangerous. If he were to meet with an
'unfortunate accident', he would not be able to share such dangerous
knowledge." Even behind her veil, the wicked grin was discernable. "And
while we are overseeing this, we would be able to monitor the angel and
her—" Temporiel choked over the word, "—lover."
"And I'm supposed to believe you don't have any ulterior motive?"
Theliel shook his head. "Not today, Temporiel."
"Ulterior motive?" Temporiel queried, giving Theliel an even look.
"Yes. I know you oppose Heart's redemption. I wouldn't put it past you
to be planning more than just the human's death."
Temporiel laughed. "The Old Man would have my wings ripped off and hand
me to demons dared I go against his word. He has said they are not to be
harmed till he has decided their fate on the seventh day. I cannot go
against the word. Yet if this human shares what he knows with the
renegade, all our work may be in jeopardy. He may reveal that which we
would not have them know, and all chance of their redemption will be
lost. You will lose your prizes, and centuries of my guidance may be
undone. The Faith rests in part on the cornerstones of Chastity and
Love. This human threatens both. Yet in death he may serve our cause far
more. His hatred for demons and his strength of will could make him a
formidable agent in Heaven's ranks."
"And you're willing to share the credit, no questions asked?" Theliel
stroked his chin. "I don't trust you, Temporiel. Not one iota."
"Which is why I wish your alliance. You will be my witness, come what
may."
Their eyes met for a long moment, both gazes calm and steady. Finally,
Theliel spoke.
"Very well. You of all of us are least capable of lying, Angel of
Chastity. That's the only reason I will go along with this." With those
words, the Angel of Love rose and stalked off, leaving his books behind.
Temporiel watched as he disappeared, a smile hidden beneath her veil.
"Yes," she said to herself under her breath. "And you'll be able to
vouch to the Old Man that it was the human, not I, who killed Seraph
Darkfell."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Uziel waited until Temporiel had turned to go before stepping out of the
adjoining aisle. That had been rather interesting. He watched her
receding back as he set down at the table and looked over the books
Theliel had been reading. Picking one at random, he leafed idly through
it as he let his mind work.
"This makes no sense," he said, thinking aloud. "Why is Theliel looking
up information on the Old Ones? And why is he so obsessed with
Darkfell?" He looked through a volume on the Fallen Host, reading as
fast as he turned pages. "Curious," he noted. "Darkfell isn't listed
among the Fallen, yet she is clearly a super. Theliel's report made that
clear, even though he left out that she had been responsible for
Valentiniel's death after she had been sentenced to Hell." He read
through the other books in short order. "Even more curious. She's not
listed anywhere in the ancient texts, nor any text before the departure
of the Son, yet she is attributed with Valentiniel's destruction. Very
curious."
He looked back up at the spot where Temporiel had vanished long before.
"Theliel's obsession is marginally explainable. He has had several
potential conquests usurped by the succubus. His ego will not rest until
he has claimed her as his, but Temporiel's hatred seems excessive, and
directed specifically at Darkfell as opposed to succubae in general.
Some of this is understandable, as Temporiel's hatred of sex, and indeed
her own self-hatred as a woman, has been expressed in every religion
influenced by the G.O.D. through commandments of chastity and lower
status for females. Her office's further duties as keeper of dogmatic
law also would suggest she would harbor equal dislike of any of Hell's
minions, yet this seems personal. It does not make coherent sense."
"Officially, the Old Man has authorized a clean-up of the records
surrounding Harteriel's exile, and Temporiel is the angel in charge of
that task, as she has been in the past. She is also overly concerned
with the human and whatever knowledge he possesses. From this I must
surmise she fears exposure, and therefore, such an action is justified,
yet her present actions show she wishes to carry out this action
clandestinely. This does not indicate official action. There is
something therefore she does not wish the Old Man to be aware of.
Something she is hiding. Something not relating to her present task."
He thought for a moment, idly flipping through the books Theliel had
left, then stopped on an illustration in the bottom book of the pile,
the first book Theliel had looked through and rejected.
It was a plate illustrating an angel bound in chains. Dark violet eyes
blazed from under midnight black bangs as ivory white wings strained to
break the cold steel links that held her naked form in a mockery of a
bow. The look on her face made it obvious that while her body might be
kneeling, she had not surrendered.
It was a disturbing picture, Uziel thought. He had not been Master of
Purgatory during Valentiniel's trial. Like the rest of Heaven, he had
accepted that the unfortunate Virtue had gone insane, unable to accept a
life of peace after so long as a warrior. There was no hint of madness
in those eyes, caught so exactingly by the illustrator, but what was
there was far more disturbing. The picture showed Valentiniel's trial
and sentencing, the Archangels presiding over the case. Valentiniel's
eyes were locked on Theliel, and there was no mistaking the implacable
rage and betrayal in them.
Uziel steepled his fingers as he thought. "And once again, there is a
link to Valentiniel. What connection does it have beyond her death at
Seraph's hands—" He caught himself, "—rather, claimed to be at Seraph's
hands? Temporiel was awarded the role of keeper less than a century
later, following the Son's departure. This will bear further
investigation.
"Yet for all of that, it does not explain Temporiel's current fixation
on this human who has been investigating the succubus." He thought for a
moment, finally rising as an idea occurred to him. "To the Book of Life,
then. This detective's entry may make for interesting reading."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
As he hung up the phone, Father Alphonse Lorenzo breathed a sigh of
relief. "Thank you, oh Lord, for granting me the information that will
aid in delivering my friend Bruce from evil. May its use aid in the
works he does for you."
He picked up the sheaf of papers from the fax and set them as far from
him on the desk as possible. He rose, running a nervous hand through
short dark hair as he began pacing his small office, waiting for Bruce.
It was times like these that he wondered why he had become a priest, let
alone a Jesuit. Despite his insatiable curiosity and scientific bent, he
had discovered there were things he didn't want to know, and the
contents of those papers had been one of those things. He feared he
wouldn't be able to convince his friend of the danger he was in. He owed
Lipton from way back, from the days when the young, self-assured loner
had defended him from bullies "just because." They had slowly grown into
friendship, the thin, geeky Al helping Bruce with his schoolwork in
exchange for "protection"; and in a real sense, Al felt their
relationship was still much the same, though these days, it was his
knowledge of protections and blessings that protected Bruce.
Then Bruce has to go and get involved way over his head. He shook his
head as he glanced at the papers once again.
One thing about being a member of an Italian family was enormous numbers
of relatives all over the world... even in Rome. Ever since the
inception of the Lorenzo surname, at least one son from every branch of
the family had found his way into the priesthood. Some had done good,
some had done evil, some had done hardly anything at all. All Al Lorenzo
had wanted to do was find a niche where he would be free to study his
interests to his heart's content, and do a little good, but Bruce's
run-in with Scoth had made his research a matter of practical necessity,
and had driven him more than once to call on the family's network for
aid.
The papers on the desk had been sent to him from a cousin
who-knew-how-many-times-removed named Giuseppe, who served in such a
menial capacity in the Vatican Library that he was generally beneath
notice, and as such, had managed to get information for Al from various
sources with little difficulty. The latest had been in response to his
query on Darkfell. Reading them as they had rolled off the fax had
prompted his call to Bruce demanding he hurry to the rectory.
Over an hour of nervous pacing passed before the Detective was shown
into his office by an altar boy. Lorenzo sighed in relief as his friend
came in and gave him an irritated look.
"This had better be important, Al. I had to drop a stakeout to come down
here."
Lorenzo licked his lips. "It was. I'm sorry, but I have to warn you to
leave this case alone, Bruce. Darkfell is too dangerous."
Bruce dropped into a chair before Lorenzo's desk. "What is this?
Everybody and their brother is warning me to drop this case. What's so
special about a goddamned succubus?"
Lorenzo winced, but ignored the profanity. "She's not an ordinary
succubus, Bruce. She's something much worse." Al picked up the sheaf of
paper and sat down at his desk and started reading them to Bruce.
Seraph Darkfell, also known as the White Lady, the Angel in
Darkness, the Shadow Lover and The Fallen. Origin unknown. First records
seem to be Roman and Visigoth, and later more extensive records during
the Middle Ages. The Fallen was said to be a powerful demon who often
took the shape of a tall, white-haired beauty that supposedly no man
could resist. Considered a major power of the sin of lust, The Fallen
was feared for her insidious methods of seducing man into evil through
seemingly innocent actions, seducing her prey through happiness, seeming
love, and carnal pleasure. Unlike the majority of succubae, The Fallen
did not seem to feed on her prey to destruction, preferring instead to
corrupt as many faithful as possible in small ways that led to a loss of
faith as it conflicted with happiness.
The Fallen is feared especially because according to the
reports of several priests at differing times and locations, she has
seemed to exhibit strong resistance to Holy magick and blessings. Only
direct contact with the Holiest of items, The Host, The Cross, and Holy
water, will suffice to repel her. Fortunately, she has shown little gift
for magic, instead possessing enormous strength.
Later records refer to The Fallen as an agent of
Mephistopheles and active even into modern times. She is believed to
have been responsible for several hedonistic movements, but no solid
evidence has been put forth.
Al, I don't know why you wanted this information, but I sent
along several of the accounts of priests attempting to slay or drive
this demon off. Whatever you wanted this for, I pray for your sake you
have no need for this beyond curiosity. This isn't a demon to play with.
She's got nearly as much power as a Demon Lord, and is supposedly one of
the Lord of Temptations' lieutenants. From the records, she's killed
every priest who's fought her directly, including a Cardinal and his
entire cadre.
Anyway, hope you find this useful.
Giuseppe
Al looked up from reading the letter at Bruce. "There's nearly fifty
more pages of accounts from various sources describing fights, attempted
exorcisms, and reports of her activities. This demon is dangerous like
you've never dealt with before, Bruce. She's seduced priests, nuns, even
a Bishop, and most of the blessings and charms I can give you will be
ineffective against her. She's one step below a Demon Lord, Bruce. You
don't stand a chance."
Lipton looked at Al over his joined hands. "I don't know if I buy all
that, Al. She just doesn't seem to be acting like that."
Lorenzo sighed. "That's her specialty, Bruce. She's a rabid wolf in
sheep's clothing. And if what you told me is true, she's good enough to
deceive an angel. An angel, Bruce! For all God has granted you the
Sight, you're still human. You can't let her weave her lies and
deceptions around you! Let her go."
Lipton shook his head. "I can't, Al. There are too many questions this
case has raised. I have to find the answers."
"You can't save the world single-handedly, Bruce. You're not the Savior.
You're my friend, and I don't want to be the one burying you."
Lipton stood. "You won't, Al. Look, all I can promise is I'll be
careful. I need to get to the bottom of this before I go mad."
Lorenzo sighed as he stood and gazed at Bruce sadly. "Then I will pray
for your deliverance from this evil, my friend."
Lipton gave him a half-smile as he left. "Hey, it can't be that bad.
When you called me, she and the angel were shopping for furniture. I
doubt she's looking for a fight."
Al watched him go sadly, wishing he had found something stronger to
present to Lipton, to show him how much danger he was in. With a sigh,
he turned back to his desk and started typing an e-mail to Giuseppe.
Surely, there had to be something in the Vatican Library that would be
effective against Seraph Darkfell...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"This is the thirteenth store we've been to, Beloved," Seraph
complained. "My hooves are killing me."
"But we haven't found a bed yet!" Heart replied. "We can't sleep in our
new home without a bed."
Seraph raised an eyebrow. "Beloved, you barely sleep. Why are you so
concerned about a bed?"
Heart blushed. "Well... um... Beloved, it's our new home. I want our
first night to be special."
Seraph gave her a understanding smile. "Oh. I see."
The store was an antique shop several blocks from the apartment
building, one specializing in Louis XIV-era antiques. Seraph had to
admit that the items the store carried came closer to matching the
apartment's decor that any of the other places they had been to that
day, but she sighed mentally at the prices listed on most of the items.
If Heart outfitted the entire apartment from here, they'd be living on
their day-to-day wages until the end-of-year settlement from the club.
It was a small price to pay to see Heart so happy.
They had finished the paperwork about an hour after Mama had shown them
the apartment, Seraph paying the first year up-front. Moving all of
their stuff from the hotel had taken another hour, and Seraph had been
happy to find out that Mama had a deal with a parking garage behind the
building so she had a place to park the 'Vette. Mama had also sent them
out armed with a list of places they could get furniture that seemed to
cover every place within ten blocks of the apartment, and a simple
statement of "Mama sent us" had been a passport to welcoming service and
treatment like they were old friends.
She sat down on a loveseat as Heart wandered the store, exclaiming in
delight over various items. The clerk was more than happy to show the
redheaded angel anything that caught her fancy, and it was several
minutes before she had gotten around to telling the clerk she was
interested in beds. The clerk gave her an appraising look, a sparkle in
her eye, then motioned her towards the back. Seraph climbed back up on
her hooves and followed the two to a curtained doorway.
"You're in luck," the clerk said as she lifted the curtain. "We just
finished restoring this yesterday and haven't gotten around to
rearranging the store to display it."
Heart and Seraph entered the dark room as the clerk fumbled with the
light switch. As the lights sprang on, Heart exclaimed happily as Seraph
whistled.
The bed was a huge canopied affair in the Louis XIV style, its four
posts elegantly carved and its rich red velvet canopy accented in gold
embroidery. The headboard curved around the massive circular mattress,
its dark oak panels carved into a scene of nymphs and fauns playing in a
golden wood. A dozen plump pillows piled at the base of the headboard,
covered in a soft red silk decorated with golden roses. The matching
cover to the bed hung to just above the floor, the small gap revealing a
heavy dust ruffle. Heavy velvet curtains surrounded the entire bed, the
ones at the foot gathered together and tied to the posts with golden
cords. Seraph estimated the bed's diameter at nearly twenty-five feet.
"We've traced this bed's origins to a craftsman in Paris before the
Revolution," the clerk said proudly. "It was constructed as a special
order for a Count, but never delivered. It's been sitting in one
warehouse or another for over two centuries. We restored the wood and
replaced the fabrics, trying to keep the original style and elegance. We
did add one thing modern. The bed was originally intended to have a
space underneath for bed warmers, but we added warming coils instead.
The controls are under the grill in the baseboard."
Seraph nodded, admiring the megalithic piece. No worries about wing room
with a bed like that!
Heart was enchanted too, running a hand lovingly over the old wood. "It
was intended to be a wedding bed," she said, turning to look at the
clerk. "Wasn't it?"
The clerk nodded. "The Count died in a duel before his marriage. A rival
for his bride insulted her honor and he threw down the gauntlet, so to
speak. The girl refused to marry the other suitor and ran away from
home. No one knows what happened to her."
Heart nodded. "He loved her. He had this made to show her that. I can
tell. Everything about it speaks of love."
Seraph laid a hand on Heart's shoulder. "Then it should be perfect."
Heart nodded, her eyes shining. "It's been waiting. All these years,
it's been waiting, its purpose unfulfilled."
"I take it, then, we're done shopping for a bed?"
Heart laughed. "Yes, Beloved. It has to be our bed."
The price was enough to make Seraph blink, but there was no thought of
not getting the magnificent bed. Seraph signed the paperwork for the
clerk to bill her bank account, having nowhere near the amount in ready
cash, and they prepared to take the bed to the apartment. Seraph looked
at the huge antique and sighed.
"While I know I can pick it up, dear, it's going to be hard to explain
how I can manage to carry a bed that large. That's not even including
how we're going to manage to get it to the penthouse."
Heart smiled. "That's easy, Beloved. I was planning to put it in my
purse."
Seraph gave her a doubtful look. "I know your purse has a dimensional
pocket, but the mouth doesn't stretch."
Heart just smiled and started an chant in Angelic. Seraph poked her head
out the curtain to make sure the clerk was busy with another customer,
and when she turned back around, the bed was gone. She giggled as Heart
linked up her arm with hers. "You know, she's going to go crazy
wondering how we got it out of here without her seeing it."
Heart smiled back. "We'll just tell her it was magic."
Seraph laughed. "Absolutely."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Time passed as it is wont to do, and late evening found Thor standing
outside the club taking a smoke break. He was reclining against one of
the walls by the main doors, and watching as traffic made its crazy way
through the streets. He shook his head at a near collision,
contemplating the foolishness of humans.
Still, the cause of the near crash did deserve a more than casual
glance. The tall woman walking up the street was worth several dozen
appreciative looks at least. She was Nubian, her skin a dark chocolate,
but she had white hair done up in a crest of hundreds of tiny braids
threaded through small glass beads. Large disks of beaten gold adorned
her ears and the shimmering pearl dress she wore appeared almost liquid.
She sauntered up to the club and gave it a once over, then her eyes
locked on Thor. She gave him a smile and walked over.
"Would you happen to have another one of those?" she asked, pointing to
the cigarette Thor had between his fingers.
He gave her a long, appreciative look as he took out his pack and handed
her one, then lit it with his silver lighter. "You here to watch?"
The woman gave the club another look. "I don't know. Debating about
maybe dancing. Figured I'd at least check it out."
Thor nodded. "You'd look good on the stage. Almost as good as the boss
lady. Gotta warn you though. There's a waiting list." He gave her
another long look. She was muscular, and her body looked very athletic.
Reminded him of Skade. Nothing at all like Sif, though. "You got a
name?"
The woman's eyes sparkled. "Do you?"
Thor chuckled. "Yeah. Thor. I'm the bouncer."
"So I guessed. My name is Frost, at least in English."
"Oh? I take then you're not?"
"No. African. I won't bore you with the details of my small tribe.
Suffice it to say it's too obscure to receive much notice."
"So what brought you to America?"
"Lots of different reasons. None of them really important."
"Mystery lady, huh?" Thor stubbed out his cigarette against the wall.
"Would you find that appealing?" she smiled, her white teeth bright
against the darkness of her face.
"Maybe. Depends."
She cocked her head. "Depends? On what?"
Thor pushed away from the wall and lifted his hammer from behind his
back. The huge iron head had small electrical sparks crawling over its
surface. "On what you are and who you work for. This tells me you're a
demon. What I do about that depends on your answer."
Frost laughed. "Bhaalor said you were canny."
"Old One-Eye?" Thor shook his head. "I've already told him I ain't going
to work for Hell."
"I'm not here to ask."
Thor gave her a hard look. "You better not be here to cause trouble,
either. Whatever Bhaalor's gripe is with the boss lady, he's gotta go
through me to get to her. You can tell him I said that, too. He pisses
me off too bad, I might just come down there and take his other eye."
Frost gave him another appraising look. "You're the one who put out his
eye?"
Thor grinned, bouncing his hammer lightly from his free hand. "Gave it
to my father for Yuletide," he said proudly.
"No wonder he hates you. I'm not here for Seraph, either. I came to see
you. I came to see what Bhaalor is afraid of."
Thor gave her a hard grin. "Yeah? And why should I believe you?"
Frost shrugged. "Don't care if you do. He's frothing over last night
anyway. I came mostly to get out of his way."
Thor laughed. "Nice imagery. Like a rabid dog."
Frost gave him a comradely grin. "Exactly."
"I like you. So how does a nice girl like you end up working for
Bhaalor?"
"Whoever said I was nice? I'm a war goddess. At least I was, before
slavers wiped out my tribe. It was Hell or oblivion. You've at least got
enough people who believe in you to allow you a choice."
Thor put up his hammer as he leaned back against the wall. "It's more
than that, girl. Doesn't matter whether humans believe in you or not, so
long as you have faith in yourself. Even if no one worshipped me, I'd
still be here. I'm too stubborn to give in."
Frost raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."
A heavy floral scent suffused the area suddenly. Thor sniffed then shook
his head. "Hope you don't mind company."
Frost looked confused. "What?"
Motes of golden light appeared in midair, cascading down to the sidewalk
and leaving behind Aphrodite. Frost gave her an evil eye. Aphrodite
returned it.
"Since when have you been friendly with Bhaalor's lieutenants?" the
ex-goddess asked Thor.
Thor shrugged. "She stopped by to chit-chat."
"Since when do you care what I do, slut?" Frost said icily.
Aphrodite sniffed. "Since Seraph quit and your boss decided he wanted
her dead. I don't plan on letting him kill her."
"Nice sentiment. I couldn’t care less."
"Then why are you here?" Aphrodite demanded.
Frost jerked a thumb at Thor. "Like he said. I came to chit-chat." She
turned to the God of Thunder. "Catch you later. It's too crowded here
with her ego around." She waved and faded into the shadows.
"Now why'd you have to do that for?" Thor grumbled at Aphrodite. "I was
kinda liking her. We could have had some fun."
"She works for Bhaalor! She's probably running to him right now to
report!"
"You always was too suspicious, 'Dite. That's how your boy broke up you
and Hephaestus, remember?"
"Yeah, well, it pays to be suspicious sometimes. I came to warn Seraph
again. Don't know exactly what's up, but the rumor mill says my son's up
to something."
"So? Like I told Frost to tell Bhaalor, anyone who wants Seraph has to
get past me. Makes no difference to me which side it is."
"Just keep an eye out, okay? I have to get back before Mephie starts
looking for me. Frost may tell him I came to warn you."
"You worry too much, 'Dite," he repeated to the falling motes. As they
faded from view, he leaned back against the wall and took out another
cigarette. He smiled at nobody. Life, which had been far too dull
lately, was definitely looking up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton had been driving around for hours, trying to decide what to do
since leaving the rectory. He'd never known Al to be wrong before, but
he just couldn't bring himself to believe all that Al had told him. He'd
avoided meeting Seraph so far, trying to figure out what was going on,
but he'd reached a brick wall.
It was almost closing time when he pulled up in back of the club, to
find Thor standing outside keeping guard. He parked the car and waved at
the big god.
"Well, well, if it isn't the angel-hating cop." Thor smiled as he came
over to meet him. "You come by to get that drink? A little late
tonight."
"No, actually I came to talk to Miss Darkfell and Miss Serafina. I have
some questions I really need the answers to."
"For the record, Detective, I think this is a very bad idea," Thor told
him as he walked back toward the club. "Miss Darkfell might not want to
talk to you, and she might not be so nice about it."
"Thanks, Thor," Lipton replied, saluting the ancient warrior. "I think I
can manage."
"Well, I can't help you," Thor warned. "You know, her being my boss and
all."
"Duly noted."
Despite his air of confidence, Lipton's stomach was in knots, hard and
cold. Seraph didn't seem malicious, but looks could be deceiving. He
nervously looked around the alley at the back of Dante's and sat down on
the hood of his car to wait. He glanced up at the still-dark morning
sky, hoping Al's reports had been wrong, but preparing mentally in case
they were right. A small flock of birds flew across the moon, drifting
his mind toward the angel, Harteriel. What was she like? Could she, a
love angel, be tricked into believing the demon loved her?
For some reason, Lipton realized he was truly hoping the reports were
wrong.
Wait a minute... birds? It's February...
Lipton had his pistol out in a flash, not really paying attention to the
opening door of Dante's, but trying to keep an eye on the flock of
so-called birds. As they got closer, he realized they were otherworldly,
but at this distance he couldn't tell which side of Christian mythos
they were from. All he knew was, they were approaching fast, and headed
right for them.
"What the hell...?" Thor cried out, running at Lipton. "I thought I told
you to play nice!"
"We've got company," Lipton pointed, and Thor followed his finger.
"What are they?" he asked.
They flitted out of sight for just a moment, disappearing into the
skyline. When they reappeared, they were right above... and dropping in.
"Holy shit — angels!" cried the tall, pale-haired bombshell at the
doorway. She'd been locking the door, the angel beside her, when the
sound of massive wings overtook the alley.
"Friends of yours, Miss Heart?" Thor asked, his voice shaking slightly
with anticipation as his finger stroked his hammer.
Heart didn't answer. She just stood there, her face a frozen mask of
terror, her arms splayed at her sides against the wall she'd backed
into.
"What do you want?" she cried at the group of descending angels.
There were seven of them, their non-descript black suits and sunglasses
as bland as their bureaucratic flattop haircuts and steel-black wings.
Even the female one was as non-descript and anonymous as the rest.
"We're here for—" any one of them could have said for as monotonous and
flat as their voices were. They all looked around, all seven pairs of
eyes training on Lipton. "—him."
"Me?" Lipton pointed to himself, chagrinned. "Wait a minute, I never saw
you assholes before today. What the hell do you want with me?"
The apparent spokesman answered with a quick flash of something bright
and hot. He rolled over the hood of his car in an attempt to dodge it,
but his trademark trench had a patch that had blazed for a moment, and
was now smoldering.
"Flaming swords? You've got to be kidding," he said as he extinguished
the embers.
"Hey!" roared the God of Thunder, drawing his hammer. "That guy's a
friend of mine. I don't like it when people pick fights with my
friends."
"Well, we don't like it much when known demon hunters harbor murderers,"
the seven-angel chorus said in reply. "In fact, it's quite frowned
upon."
Seraph pointed in Lipton's direction, glaring at Thor.
"That guy's a demon hunter?" she demanded.
"I thought your boss wasn't gonna mess with me," Lipton stood and shook
a finger at the angels. "Gabriel told me to stay out of it, but he also
said he wasn't going to attack me."
In the back of his mind, though, he realized this wasn't true. Gabriel
had only said that he might get killed in the crossfire.
"Gabriel's not my boss," the angel-in-black took another wide swing,
giving Lipton plenty of time to dodge. Thor took another step forward,
but two of the others positioned to cover him. Two more flanked their
leader, and the last took defense against Heart and Seraph.
"I thought angels were the good guys," Lipton said, leaning forward on
his hands.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, detective," the angel replied,
standing over him now. "But you really do have such archaic ideas. We
are the good guys — by any means necessary."
"Even just killing a human," Lipton said as he positioned his legs
beneath him.
"We've done it for millions of years. Look at Sodom and Gomorrah,"
Lipton looked the angel right in the dark glasses.
"So I didn't kill her on sight, and you're just going to kill me to make
up for it?"
"That's right, detective," the bland angel grinned, his teeth giving the
appearance that they would be more comfortable in a horse's mouth.
Lipton found this amusing, but couldn't place why. "Clearly you are not
yet pure enough. Maybe next lifetime."
"But I'm not ready to give up on this one," Lipton pushed off with his
feet, lunging the short distance between himself and the dark angel.
Caught off-guard, the angel leaped back, flapping his wings at the same
time. This served to pull both angel and human about six feet into the
air, before the weight became too much. Both beings crashed to the
pavement in a heap, and they took with them the two that had been
flanking their leader.
At this, Thor gave a mighty yell and Heart shrieked.
Thor's yell came with his hammer's crash, the immense sound enveloping
all of them, paralyzing the whole group for just a moment as he cried
out the hammer's name. The air smelled of sulfur, and static electricity
played havoc on the alley. The mighty hammer connected with one of the
angels, who jiggled in a spastic dance before exploding in a puff of
golden dust and vanishing, leaving behind only a swiftly fading halo. It
was then that Heart screamed.
"No!" she cried, getting into the middle of everything. Thor's remaining
guard kept his eyes on him, but both the angels guarding the girls and
the first angel to dissociate from Lipton's pile turned their full
attention on her. This last was the female one, who glared at Heart with
a look of pure contempt.
"Theliel wants to give you your job back," she spat. "But I think you
should just die for what you've done."
Heart's face drew up in shock.
"But I didn't do anything! I fell in love!"
"You're demon-meat," came the cold response. "And you should be treated
like demon-meat."
She held up a cross-bow with a silver-tipped bolt whose business end was
aimed for a point somewhere on the love angel's forehead. She pulled the
trigger and let it fly.
Heart whispered something in the angelic tongue, and the sound of a
heavenly choir surrounded her in the form of a shield of golden light.
It deflected the bolt easily as Heart drew her sword from her purse.
However, rather than using it to fight, she put the tip of the blade to
the ground and knelt.
"Heavenly creator," she whispered. "I know these are not angels the same
way I am. Please forgive me."
Her temporary nemesis laughed out loud.
"Please forgive me!" she mocked. "He'll never forgive you. You walked
out on His love."
The blade of Heart's sword flashed silver in the air as the female AIB's
head sailed from her shoulders to the pavement, her halo flying away to
clatter on the ground. The rush of silver light that came from her
bleeding neck washed over the alley, causing Seraph to dive head-first
into the backseat of the 'Vette. Heart stood watching the spectacle,
watching the silver angel-fire wash over the other angels, the human and
the bouncer.
Thor's angel, off balance to begin with, was impacted into his hammer by
the force. He ducked as it exploded into another cloud of light, then
stood to his full seven feet. His hair, beard, and moustache were
singed, but he grinned at Heart as he twirled a halo around his finger.
"What a rush!"
Then he reached into the pile of angels to grab Lipton by the back of
his collar.
Lipton was covered in mercurial silver blood, and he was grinning
maniacally. In one hand, clenched in his fist, was the key to his police
cruiser. In the other was an ornate silver hilt. As the lead angel
rolled away from the pile, all that was left was his lieutenant. The
subordinate angel's eyes where bleeding where Lipton had gouged at them.
"Demons, angels — you're still trying to kill me, and that won't fly,"
he said.
"What is this? I don't understand this!" Heart suddenly screeched from
the other side of the alley. The four angels all turned to look at her.
Heart was extremely upset at that precise moment, her pale blue aura
pulsing and glowing with righteous wrath. She held her sword down at her
side as she glared at the AIBs.
"Angels don't kill humans anymore," she growled. "That's not in the
Code. There's no way you're angels."
"Oh, they're angels, beloved," Seraph rejoined her, twirling her
trident. "Nasty ones."
"And it's four on three," Thor said. "Not the best odds, but even
against these nasty buggers, not the worst."
Lipton looked from his discarded gun to the sword hilt in his hand.
Realizing blessed ammo probably wouldn't make much of a difference to
these guys, he started shaking the sword, pressing all the designs on
its hilt.
The four angels, though, had regrouped. The blind one had replaced his
glasses and grinned through the silver ooze that dribbled down his face.
He had a huge spiked lance trained on Thor.
The thunder god looked at Lipton.
"I don't think you're supposed to shake it," he warned in a stage
whisper. "I think you're supposed so say its name."
"Yes, please, detective," the leader angel taunted. "We need a laugh."
Lipton looked at the hilt for a moment. The spidery script up its side
resolved itself in just a moment to form a word. He shook his head.
"'Hasen?' What kind of—" He leaped back, though, when the flame blade
burst out of the hilt with a roar of holy fire. Readying himself, he
relented, "Hasen it is, then."
"This changes nothing," the leader said before charging with his own
blade. Taking their leader's cue, all of them jumped in.
Thor had a very easy time of it. Despite the loss of his eyes, the blind
angel wasn't exactly blind, but he also wasn't a war god. He lunged in
with his spear, but Thor grabbed it from his hands and snapped it in
half.
"Nice twig," he said. "I remember when the Celts used those. Yours made
a nice pingy sound when it broke." As he slammed Mjolnir over the
angel's head, he added, "So did your head." He grinned savagely as he
removed the halo dangling from his hammer.
Heart and Seraph found themselves back to back against a skillful staff
and a lethal-looking scimitar. Seraph was meeting her foe thrust for
parry, and Heart wasn't faring much better. At this rate, they would
fight like this for all eternity. Something had to give.
So Heart gave it — a sparkly ball that exploded in the AIB's face and
knocked him back, his eyes dazzled. A sweep from Thor's hammer blew him
into a shower of light.
Seraph's angel now found himself surrounded. Considering the odds for a
split second, he took off and disappeared.
"Coward!" Seraph shouted, trying to take off. The narrow alley didn't
give her enough room to glide, though, and she fell to her knees,
frustrated.
"It's okay, Miss Seraph," Thor put his hand on her shoulder. "That just
means he was scared."
"You're still on my shit list, Thor." As quickly as she'd fallen, she
was on her feet and facing him. "What the hell are you doing, bringing a
demon hunter into my bar?!"
"Miss Seraph, this ain't the first time he's been here," Thor replied.
"And he's okay. Follows the rules, doesn't pull any funny stuff. He's a
good guy."
"Um, where is he?" Heart wondered aloud.
They all looked, but he was not to be found.
"Great!" Seraph threw her hands up in exasperation. "Now we've probably
gotten the stupid human killed! I'm getting the fuck out of here."
"You go home, Miss Seraph," Thor told her. "I'll take care of him."
"Wait a minute," Heart stopped. "How does he know who we are?"
"He's a police detective," Thor replied.
"Thor, that man is not to come back into my club," Seraph ordered. "A
detective? What's next, homicide?"
"Now that you mention it, I think he is homicide,"
"Good night, Thor," Seraph growled, jumping into the 'Vette. Heart very
daintily slid into the passenger seat.
"Get rid of him," Seraph ordered Thor before she squealed away.
"Too bad," Thor muttered, shaking his head. "You don't make many friends
in my line of work. I kinda liked him."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton was actually around the corner, blade locked with the angel's.
Their faces were inches from one another.
"You must realize this is futile," the angel said. "I'm an angel. You're
a human. I am your superior."
"Bullshit," Lipton panted. He kicked at the angel's knee.
The angel yelped and relaxed his blade, and Lipton drew back to make a
sweeping cut. The angel regained himself, however, and blocked the cut
with his sword, rebounding into a cut of his own. Lipton jumped back,
the heat searing his skin. Realizing he had the upper hand, the angel
grinned self-assuredly. He went into an intricate dance of delicate
thrusts and counter-thrusts, trying to drive Lipton back further. Lipton
met his every move, and the angel growled in frustration.
"Yeah, thank god you fight with swords," the detective said. "I won
trophies with swords. Made all-state fencing champion, actually."
"Was that before or after you began frightening away your peers with
crazy demon stories?" the angel mocked.
"I thought you said I was a demon-slayer." Lipton narrowed his eyes.
"You know that's not what your friends think," the angel sneered. "You
know what they call you behind your back. Ghoul... Psycho... Crazy."
"So? That's their opinion." Lipton rose an eyebrow. "Besides, isn't
vanity a sin?"
He raced in, his sword over his head like a berserker's. The angel stood
at the ready, waiting to cut the man in half at the waist.
Lipton dove, his full momentum striking the angel's shins. The angel
went down, his sword flying into the air, and Lipton rose. He held his
sword at the angel's throat.
"Well, it was nice to meet you, I suppose," he said, preparing to
thrust, but a creak from above him made him look up.
The fire escape ladder, sheared through by the angel's lost sword, gave
way and crashed down towards him. The angel took advantage of his dodge
to attack.
Thor came into the alley in time to see the angel deliver a kick to
Lipton's stomach that knocked him to the ground. The angel then rose and
kicked him in the face. Lipton's body fell limp, and the sword flickered
out. The angel dove for his sword, trying to grab it in time to face
Thor, but Mjolnir's aim was true. The hammer flew through the air and
struck the angel in the back of the head. He screamed as he dissipated
into a cloud of silver dust, the remnants of the terrible sound echoing
throughout the alley.
The hammer boomeranged back into Thor's hand as the angel's halo
clattered to the ground. Thor nodded and fastened Mjolnir to his belt,
grinning a bit as it gave off one last joyful little spark. He strode
over to the detective and knelt over him.
"Humph, still alive! I would have loved having this human as one of my
kings back when I was in power. Helluva guy."
Sighing, he picked up the limp body and folded the detective over his
shoulder. As an afterthought, he bent over and slipped the sword hilt
into the detective's pocket. Depositing the unconscious detective in the
passenger seat of his car, Thor dug out his wallet. He noted the
address, then wandered around the battlefield collecting halos and
Lipton's keys before squeezing himself in to the car. A last look
satisfying him that all the signs of a battle were obscured, he started
the car and headed off.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"I can't believe it! What the hell was Thor thinking?" Seraph stormed as
they weaved through traffic to the village. "Letting that demon hunter
so close!"
"Beloved, he didn't know the detective was a demon hunter. And you've
told me that we're supposed to cooperate with the police."
"That's different! That's if they come to the club looking for drugs or
stuff. This is a homicide detective! The only thing he could possibly
want to ask about is the demonic corpses we've been leaving around!"
"Beloved, we've had to defend ourselves. And they were demons."
"They won't look like that to NYPD. They'll look like humans."
"But is he's a demon hunter. Surely he would be able to tell?"
"Maybe, but that still means he's probably going to try and kill me. The
last thing I need is to be forced to kill a cop. It's bad enough I have
the Church out for my blood for the priests I've had to kill over the
centuries. Cops aren't so forgiving."
"Priests? Oh, Beloved?" Heart's tone sounded disappointed.
"What was I supposed to do, Heart? They were trying to kill me. I'm a
demon, remember? I've tried to avoid killing when I could, but several
times I've had no choice."
Heart sighed. "I know. They left me no choice either. I truly am a
renegade now, Beloved. I've killed angels."
Seraph put an arm around her shoulder. "I know, Beloved."
They pulled into the parking garage at the apartment and made their way
up. Standing on the balcony overlooking the city Heart looked up at the
towering Manhattan skyline. "This city is so beautiful at night."
Seraph nodded. "That's why I built Dante's here. New York is kind of a
cross-section of humanity. Almost every nation, every people, every
culture is here in one form or another. And the city has a 'never say
die' attitude I've always found appealing."
"Like us?" Heart smiled.
"Like us."
Heart leaned over the balcony and looked down. "I really like our new
home. It's got such a peaceful feeling."
Seraph nodded, joining her looking over the railing. Almost instantly
she recoiled with an "Eeep!"
Heart looked over to the gargoyle just below the balcony where Seraph
had looked over. "Beloved, if they were going to be upset, don't you
think they would have started screaming long before now?"
Seraph poked her head back over the rail and looked at the gargoyle
again. "I suppose."
The gargoyle winked at her.
Seraph dove behind the rail to Heart's laughter. She looked at the
hiding succubus and smiled. "I think he likes you."
"I'll just stay over here, thank you. Gargoyles make me nervous."
Heart took Seraph's hand and led her back into the vast echoing
emptiness of the apartment and into the bed room. The huge canopied bed
sat invitingly. "I think tonight, I just want to be held," Heart
murmured as she stripped of her clothes.
Seraph nodded. "I can't say that I blame you."
Heart smiled as the succubus crawled into the vast bed and set up the
pillows for sleeping. Heart smiled as she reached up and took of her
halo, hanging it on the hook the rope holding the curtain was attached
to. Its silver light cast a soft glow over the bed as she climbed in and
snuggled next to the demoness.
"You've never taken your halo off for sleeping before," Seraph noted.
Heart smiled. "Of course not. I wasn't at home before."
Seraph smiled hugely as she held the angel tight and closed her eyes...
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