Ange du Mal Page 8

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  Divya was sitting on my bed, staring out the window in shock. “It smelled like sulfur and blood,” she said. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “We’ll be fine if we have this,” Rosanna assured her, fingering the cross around her neck. “C’mon, it’ll be exciting, like hunting Bigfoot.”

  “I really think we should stay here,” I said.

  “Fine, you guys can stay, but I’m going to go look for it.” Rosanna zipped up her boots and slipped on a jacket.

  “You don’t know what those things can do!” I said.

  Rosanna looked at me oddly. “I thought you said you just saw them in a movie. What are you going on about?”

  I fumed. “I – I did. Look, I’ll go with you, but only so you don’t get lost in the woods like I did.”

  Divya shivered. “I don’t want to be alone. I’ll come with you guys and show you where it was.”

  “Are you sure?” I said.

  Divya rose from the bed, forcing a smile. “It was probably just my imagination.”

  And that was how we ended up in the woods tracking a hellhound. My palms sweat, and I glanced around, waiting for the hound’s telltale howl. I didn’t let go of the petersword around my neck. Rosanna hummed to herself, flicking her flashlight around, trying to find the beast’s tracks. Divya tailed us, silent.

  We were in the thick of the woods, far from the trail, when Rosanna stopped short. “Whoa,” she breathed. Illuminated by her flashlight was a paw print the size of a dinner plate. She knelt to examine it. “Is the cadejo real? No way. I was just kidding!”

  Divya shuddered. “I wasn’t imagining it.”

  “Happy, Rosanna? Can we go now?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Rosanna said, “Let’s jam.”

  A low growl interrupted her. I turned around to see a sinewy hellhound staring back at me, bloody foam on its muzzle. It licked its lips and sprung forward. We screamed.

  “Run!” I yelled, bringing the key charm to my lips. My petersword grew to sword-size and I assumed a defensive position, brandishing the blade against the monster. I cut the hellhound’s front leg, and a tendon snapped. It yipped, its blood spurting onto my feet.

  Divya tripped on a root. She fell to the ground.

  “We’re not leaving you, Shannon,” Rosanna said. She helped Divya up. “Why the hell do you have a sword?”

  “Long story,” I said. The hellhound loped toward me. “Stay back.” I darted to the left and blocked the hellhound’s path. Baring its fangs, it made for my throat. I hacked at its neck, drawing a shallow cut. It whimpered and backed away, only to circle us.

  My mind reeled as adrenaline kicked in. The oversized dog zeroed in on me. A low rumble came from its throat as it limped forward.

  “You don’t scare me, Clifford,” I said.

  Regardless of my bravado, the hellhound lunged toward me. All it took was a misstep - a sword slice in the wrong direction - and its teeth were in my shoulder.

  It throttled me. I heard bone snap. My friends screamed my name, but all I could hear was the satisfied crunch of the hellhound. It dropped me to the ground, and I lay there crying, clutching my ruined collarbone. The beast put its paw on my neck and applied pressure, trying to snap my spine.

  Vision hazy, I could barely make out the flurry of white and gold that descended from a patch of sky. The hellhound squealed, releasing me as a great volley of air ripped at its fur. It quaked in what appeared to be fear. I struggled to turn my neck, but all I could see were two pairs of sandaled feet and the tips of feathery wings – one plumage ivory, the other like the sun.

  “Help,” I gasped as hot blood poured down my shoulder. The pain was like a hammer to my brain. I couldn’t move my injured arm, only struggle to drag myself away from the hellhound on my unbroken limbs.

  Soft hands scooped me up, and I was immersed in an ethereal glow. The face I looked up at was bright, too bright, like the heart of a star. After a moment, the molten fire of the being’s skin cooled to a golden tan. A button nose, sleek black hair, and slanted eyes crinkled in a smile.

  “Who are you?” I choked.

  Golden wings wrapped round me and gentle fingers glided over my wound. “No one special,” came a voice like a bell. My wound pulsed hot, and before my eyes, the flesh knitted together, bone shifting back into place. “There. Your shoulder will ache for a while, but it’s a lot less of an eyesore, right?”

  I glanced to my friends, only to have my view blocked by a towering angel with silvery wings and hair like blood. He was dressed in a golden tunic and had apparently brought a sword of flame down upon the hellhound’s neck, slicing it clean off. The angel was cleaning the volcanic sword on his pants, where it left streaks of gore, but no fire.

  “You girls do this often?” the blood-haired angel asked. His voice was like thunder.

  “N – no,” Divya stammered from behind him.

  The angel with the sword crossed himself with his weapon and whispered a word. The hellhound’s corpse disintegrated into ash. He sheathed his blade at his back. “Gabriel, how’s the injured one?”

  “In shock, but otherwise fine,” the angel holding me said. She set me down gingerly. I reeled back.

  “You’re Gabriel?” I sputtered. “As in the angel of the Annunciation?”

  The healing angel, who looked like the heavenly messenger in the Japanese ink drawings of the Virgin Mary’s revelation I had seen in the Smithsonian once, smiled. “The very one. And, because I know you’re going to ask, that’s Michael – I’ve never been able to figure out if his hair’s a terrible dye job or not.”

  “It’s natural,” Michael said. He helped a shocked Rosanna and Divya to their feet. “Now, do you three chase hellhounds for fun, or were you sent by someone?” His nostrils flared as his gaze settled on me. “You smell like you crawled out of a hellhole.”

  I wiped sweaty bangs from my forehead. “I kind of did,” I said. “And we’re here of our own, admittedly stupid, free will.”

  “We didn’t think the cadejo actually existed!” Rosanna said rapidly. “I thought my friend just imagined it or something.” She clicked her flashlight on and off, then took a deep breath. “But more importantly, how is this real? I mean, you two are angels, right? Or did we die and go to Heaven?”

  “I’m not even supposed to go to Heaven,” Divya said faintly. “I’m Hindu.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re alive.” She toyed with the fringe of her cyan robe. “But you almost weren’t. What were you girls thinking? You have a petersword, so you obviously came prepared. Are you Claimed?” she asked gently. “Because we can help you if you are.”

  Rosanna and Divya glanced at each other in confusion.

  “No, we’re not,” I said.

  “Then how did you get such a rare weapon?” said Michael, his voice cool. He nudged my petersword into a pile of leaves with his sandal.

  I blushed, terrified at the idea of lying to an angel.

  Michael focused on me. “We’re not here to hurt you,” the archangel said slowly, as if coaxing a wild animal.

  I shifted, uncomfortable. The archangel was handsome, too handsome, as if carved by Michelangelo, and Gabriel – she was beyond compare. I felt like a wilted flower in their presences.

  “I – I got it in Hell,” I admitted, deciding that lying to an archangel was dangerous, despite their assurance of peace.

  “Wait, you’ve been to Hell? You haven’t even been to Disneyworld!” Rosanna said.

  “Rosanna, be quiet!” Divya said.

  Gabriel and Michael shared a knowing glance. “You’re not Claimed, but you’ve been to the underworld?” Gabriel said.

  I nodded, staring at my feet with determination.

  “Are you Nephilim?” Michael asked quietly.

  I looked up. “Am I what?”

  “I guess not.” Michael sighed, rubbing his temple. “Well, then. You’re an anomaly, aren
’t you?”

  Gabriel’s eyes flashed. “Wait. The answer’s staring us in the face.”

  Michael straightened his back. “What is it?”

  Gabriel peered at me intently. “She’s the ascendant. Why else would she be carrying a petersword or stink of Hell?”

  “Samael,” Michael groaned.

  My skin prickled.

  Michael muttered to himself. “That’s why he was so chipper when we went boating in Miami. Damn wyrm.”

  “And why he drank so many margaritas,” Gabriel said in realization. “Sam only drinks those when he’s plotting something.” She looked at me in concern. “Oh, you poor girl. What has he done to you? He hasn’t made you listen to his saxophone, has he?” She asked the last question as if it were a punishment worse than death.

  “Um, no,” I said. “But he’s been training me. Is he really that bad?”

  “On the saxophone, yes. He’s wretched,” Michael said. He rubbed his temple. “And Samael’s no better in other aspects. You’re better off pulling your teeth out one by one than dealing with that pain-in-the-ass. But I suppose it could have been worse. You could have been found by Asmodeus and forced into his harem.”

  I shivered at the mention of the green-eyed demon.

  “Samael’s too lazy to do that,” Gabriel said. “Anyways, only Lilith can stand him.”

  “And he’s the only one that can stand her,” Michael said.

  “Excuse me, um, but, what are you going to do with us?” Divya said.

  Gabriel glanced at Divya, a look of sympathy on her face. “You three have had a rough night. We’re going to let you two go – I’m afraid you won’t be able to speak of these events to anyone but each other. It’s a precaution we take with mortals who have divine experiences. You’ll find a frog in your throat any time you think of mentioning us or the hellhound.” Gabriel placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “However, your friend has to stay.”

  “Shannon, will you be okay?” Rosanna said, exhaustion etched on her face.

  “Yeah, you guys can go. I’ll explain everything later.”

  Divya gazed at the two angels with wide eyes. “Thank you for saving us,” she said.

  “Our pleasure,” Michael said. “Now, please promise me you won’t go chasing after demons again. It will save everyone a headache.”

  “Never,” Rosanna said. Holding each other, she and Divya disappeared into the darkness, sparing me a worried glance back. It seemed they wanted to stay, but didn’t dare defy the archangels.

  Michael reached into his pocket and took out a dated cell phone. He began to furiously text someone.

  “How did you know where we were?” I said.

  Gabriel’s cheery expression waned. “Michael and I were on the trail of the hellhound thanks to Raziel’s lead. Raziel’s been absent lately, probably busy with his books, but he comes through when we need him. The hellhound we were tracking caught the scent of something interesting, so we decided to see where it led us. It was tracking you.”

  “But where did it come from?” I asked.

  Michael sighed. “Samael might have told you about the current chaos in Hell, and the patchy border between the underworld and Earth. The same can be said for Heaven. The border between Heaven and Earth is riddled with heaven’s gates – almost like someone’s been tampering with it – and last month, a group of highly dangerous fallen angels were freed from Dudael and crossed over into Earth. They brought with them mercenaries and packs of hellhounds. Their leader must have sent a hound out to track the rumored ascendant. Metatron said the prophecy would come to fruition, but I never thought…”

  “What prophecy?” I said.

  Gabriel smiled like, well, an angel. “Oh, just one of Metatron’s theories. He’s chockful of them.”

  “Okay. But I still don’t get how the hellhound found me. Samael’s set up wards: he said he would protect me from anyone hunting me,” I said. “How could he have missed this?”

  Gabriel gave Michael a furtive glance. “We didn’t tell Samael about this particular group’s escape due to his fallen status,” she said after a moment’s pause.

  “But wouldn’t Samael know about their escape anyway? He’s the ruler of Hell – how would they get past him?” I struggled to understand.

  “Dudael isn’t in Hell,” Michael said. “It’s under Heaven’s jurisdiction, and its location is kept secret from demons, in case they get the urge to free their rebellious brethren.”

  I tried to imagine something worse than demons. “Who are they? The escaped fallen angels?”

  Michael narrowed his eyes. “Beings you’ll hopefully never meet.”

  Apparently the archangels had forgotten about the internet. I would be plugging ‘Dudael’ into a search engine as soon as I got back to my dorm. I nodded my head as if in understanding.

  Gabriel crossed her arms behind her head. “Shannon – that’s your name, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Shannon,” she said, “Samael’s dangerous. As an ascendant, any path you take will be entwined with immortals. But it doesn’t have to make you a demon’s tool. If you align yourself with Heaven, you could do a world of good.”

  My thoughts flashed to the tears in Damien’s eyes when I’d opened a doorway to Pan’s woods, his old home. Hadn’t I already done good? “Would I be doing the same thing with you guys? Realigning the otherworlds with Earth?”

  Gabriel inhaled sharply. “You’re doing what?” she said after a pause.

  Had I misspoke? “Um, Samael’s been teaching me how to open portals. I – I thought that was a good thing.”

  Michael cursed. “That oily snake,” he said. “If you realign Earth and the otherworlds, Heaven’s reign will end.”

  Gabriel nodded. “For the last thousand years, give or take a few centuries, Heaven has been a shining beacon of peace, leading immortals into a new era of prosperity, united under the banner of a single God. Deities no longer war against each other for believers – they work alongside us, subjects of our Father. If you realign the otherworlds, there will be war. Utter chaos.”

  I gawked. “You’re kidding me.”

  Michael shook his head, face grim. “It’s true.” His cell phone beeped. He flipped it open and frowned. “Samael’s replied. He’s coming now.”

  Chapter 7

  Reality tore open, allowing Samael to step through. He wore his robe of shadow, his face contorted in anger. “Well if it isn’t the piety posse,” Samael said. “I’d say good evening, but there’s nothing good about tonight.”

  Michael snapped his phone shut. “Quit the dramatics, Sam. We’re here to negotiate.”

  “She’s mine,” Samael said, summoning his scythe and planting himself squarely in front of me. “End of negotiations.”

  “You’re not being reasonable,” Gabriel said, voice honey-sweet. “Think about what you’re doing. Trying to realign the otherworlds? It’s insanity.”

  “To you. To me, it is freedom. Freedom from the shackles of an absent Father.” Samael glared daggers at Michael. “How long has it been since you last heard from Father? Years? Decades?”

  “That doesn’t concern you,” Michael said, voice steely.

  “Father is unfit to rule,” Samael said. “The other gods may do a half-assed job, but at least they do it. And I’m sick of refugees wasting away in Hell. They deserve to go home.” He ground the heel of his boot into the dirt. “I’m tired of watching my citizens suffer, crowded into tenements, trying to make ends meet. You oversized seagulls have grown corrupt.”

  “You speak nobly, but the reality of your plan would be disastrous,” Michael said. “If the false gods gained power, they would return to their old battles. You itch for chaos, and you thrive off war. Do you really think I’ll allow that to happen?”

  Samael smirked. “Whether you allow it or not, it will come to pass. The ascendant has sided with me.”

  “Jeeze, you guys have daddy issues,” I said. “And I haven’t sided
with anyone. I don’t know the first thing about celestial politics. All that matters to me is that I don’t start World War III.”

  “You won’t if you let us to help you,” Gabriel said. “Samael can only lead you down a path of destruction.”

  I crossed my arms. “Now, wait a second. You two basically want me to support a dictator. There’s a reason I stopped being Catholic: I can’t deal with dogma, and I can’t deal with the Christian God. Samael may be a creep, but at least he’s trying to help people – immortals – whatever. If I have this ability, I want to use it for good.” I picked up my petersword and wiped pine needles from the blade. “I’m sorry. I can’t work with you.”