Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (35 page)

I smiled at Dar in gratitude. I knew it wouldn’t be easy for him to handle two fractious elven kingdoms as well as keeping tabs on three rowdy demons. I knew he’d also be overseeing Radl and Hack as they worked in Li. All that should be enough to keep his mind busy, and away from imagining what Ahriman would be doing to me.

“Thank you all,” I announced. “After the integration is complete, Dar will be the head of my household until the end of my contract as Consort. I hope to see you all then.”

Hope. Depression edged its way onto the edges of my mind like a shadow, but I pushed it back. I had to stay alive—for my remaining household members, for the humans I’d worked so hard to free, for Wyatt and my friends, and for my angel. Most of all, for my angel.

27

W
hy here? I thought the Ruling Council met in Aaru,” Tura asked, looking uncomfortable as he gazed around the room.

Besides Gabriel, the only others present were humans, setting up coffee, donuts, and flip charts. The angels would arrive fashionably late, making an entrance and giving their guest plenty of time to squirm with building anxiety.

“We began meeting outside of Aaru to accommodate the Iblis.” Gabriel fought to keep his attention on the other angel and not the tray of pastries next to the coffee urns. Ruling Council meetings weren’t nearly as much fun without the imp’s disruptive presence.

“Will she be here, too?” Tura picked up a coffee cup and casually filled it with the dark liquid.

It would be just like her to show up unexpected, crashing through the door half naked with a fist full of lightning bolts. A part of Gabriel wished she would. “No. She is attending to urgent business in Hel at the moment.”

Tura nodded, a look of relief in his eyes as he turned toward the chairs before halting abruptly. Gabriel knew right away what he was thinking. There were seven chairs around the huge table, and even with the absence of the Iblis, it was quite clear that Tura was meant to stand. As if on cue, the other angels arrived and promptly took their respective seats.

“There is some business we need to attend to first. I’m sure you understand,” Gabriel told the angel beside him. “I’ll introduce you when we’re ready.”

It was all part of the elaborate ritual to make it quite clear to Tura where he stood in relation to the other angels in the room, that no matter how important he felt his project was, it ranked somewhere below determining process steps for grade secession candidates. This was a dance Gabriel had done his entire life, yet he suddenly felt irritated with the delay. Impatient.
Let’s just get this over with
.

Of course they would not discuss anything of significance with a non-member in attendance. Four hours were filled with inane discussion and obscure diagrams while Tura stood, remarkably composed, fingering the cup holding cold coffee.

Finally Gabriel nodded Tura forward, and he approached without introduction. In spite of the fact that all this was meant to rattle him, the angel appeared confident; the picture of balance and order.

“For too long, Aaru has suffered from lack of creation. I present to you a way to bring new life to the angelic host. Using donated demon essence brokered through the humans and elves, we can invigorate our homeland and once again enjoy positive evolution and increased vibration.”

With a wave of his hand, six tubes of swirling green arched through the air. As if synchronized, the seated angels each reached up to catch one. It was a bold move. One broken tube, demon essence all over the floor, and Tura would look like a cocky fool.

“These are samples, to show you that this isn’t just a theory. We are ready to begin today. With the Ruling Council’s approval, of course.”

The angels studied the green tubes and silence stretched on. Gabriel watched their faces intently for reaction. Was this truly as Tura had said, or was there more to his sin than violations of the treaty?”

“Plague and warmongering,” Uriel finally spoke, her brow creased with a frown. “These are not exactly traits I would wish in an offspring, although the contributing demon is of a suitably high level.”

Gabriel winced. Contributing demon. More like butchered victim.

“Ancient Revered One, Angel of Prophecy, plague traits are also healing ones, and warmongering is a mirror to peace. With the appropriate contribution of Order, these undesirable qualities will be transformed.”

“Or hidden.” They all turned toward the eldest among them. “How many times have we declared an Angel of Order, only to realize our error a century later? It’s only through trust in our breeding partners that we achieve the results we
both
truly desire.”

“But we’re not here to discuss breeding partners.” Baradel chimed in. “That is forever lost to us. This may be a dim shadow of what we used to have, but it’s worth considering.”

“We have to do something,” Raphael added. “Uriel may be the Angel of Prophecies, but I see an Aaru rotting from the inside out, and I fear for our future. This may seem cold and sterile, but I agree that it’s worth consideration.”

“The process is unconventional,” Tura chimed in. “But the result will be the same as we had before the war—creation. New angels will bring vitality back to Aaru. There will be no violation of our treaty, no sinful contact, and our offspring will be identical to those created through conventional breeding.”

There was silence as the angels examined the tubes. Gabriel sat his down on the table, unable to stand holding it any longer. Let the future of Aaru be what it may, he couldn’t give his vote to such a project.

Uriel caressed the tube of green, a look of longing in her eyes. “I vote we approve the premise and proceed to discussions of the methods of collection and formation.”

Baradel, Sidriel, and Raphael nodded, and the eldest shrugged. “I’ll reserve judgment until I know more.”

Tura waved a hand and a stack of papers appeared before each angel. “These detail the collection process and the formation process at a high level. There is also a proposed screening document for applicants as well as a list of testing mechanisms to ensure the resulting offspring are suitable in quality and type.”

Raphael stabbed a finger on one of the pages. “The flow chart that shows the acquisition process for the demon essence is rather lengthy. Is there a chain of custody procedure to guarantee nothing has been tampered with? Can you illustrate the quality control and security at each hand-off point?”

“The appendix, page six-hundred-and-twenty-three through nine-hundred-and-fifty outlines those details.”

They all flipped to the back pages, quickly scanning the dense text and diagrams.

“The formation section is unacceptably vague,” the eldest noted. Gabriel bit back a smile, realizing his brother had echoed his own words.

Tura smiled serenely, a small, clear box appearing in his hands. “If you wish to study the mechanism for formation, you are welcome to do so. It is a product of sorcery—elven and human magic combined. I documented the basic workings of the item, but due to its magical nature, there are some functions not easily explained.”

Uriel reached for the box, examining it with eager hands while her older brother scowled.

“What happens if the offspring is defective in some way? With traditional breeding, that was never a possibility, but a magical device lacks sentience. What shall we do with unanticipated results?”

Tura looked wary. “There will be no broken angels. The magic is of the highest quality and level. Errors are not possible.”

“But what about Angels of Chaos,” Rafael broke in, giving the box a hopeful look. “That’s one factor that’s always been up to fate. Under the rules of the treaty, we cannot allow an Angel of Chaos in Aaru, but I would damn myself to Hel before I tossed away a helpless, newly formed angel.”

“There will only be Angels of Order produced,” Tura assured confidently. “Guaranteed.”

“There are no guarantees,” the eldest interjected. “I’ve seen many Angels of Order with chaos traits, and those close to the median are most likely to straddle both worlds. If Raphael would sooner die than throw away a newly formed angel, think how he would feel after a hundred years when hidden traits manifest? Think how any angel would feel.”

“We could make provisions for that unlikely scenario,” Tura said. “At one hundred, they could live elsewhere, protected and sheltered until they were able to live in Hel like they are meant to.”

Baradel and Sidriel nodded. Uriel did nothing but stare at the vial of green before her and the plain, crystal box.

“I’m
not
casting my children into Hel,” Raphael snapped. “How can we possibly sit here as angels, supposedly the most enlightened and balanced of all beings, and even consider such a thing?”

“Of course not!” Tura said indignantly. “ There are other realms. We can have dwarves brought over to assist in their development; we can journey there to visit. It would be a neutral territory, outside the confines of the treaty. And all this is merely conjecture—the box is guaranteed to only produce Angels of Order.”

Perhaps he would make a good Ruling Council candidate,
Gabriel thought. They all had their skeletons. If they excluded every angel who had plotted and schemed, who had bent or broken the rules, there would be no one left on the Council. With some minor rehabilitation, perhaps this angel would make a good addition.

Or not.

“No,” the eldest said, tossing the vial of green back to Tura. “There is too much chance for corruption and evil actions couched under benign motives from beginning to end. This project ends now.”

“No!” Uriel’s voice was shrill. “We can make it work. We’ll form a committee to explore options, investigate a way to structure acceptable procedures.”

“I think we should at least look into it further,” Baradel agreed.

“Although I am sympathetic to your views, dear brother,” Raphael interjected. “You are only one member of this council. We should put this to a vote.”

“Vote away. This project will never see the light of day.”

“Too late.” Everyone turned in surprise to Tura. “So convenient that you chose to have your meeting here among the humans. While you all nattered on about how many of us could fit on the head of a pin, my colleagues were announcing the availability of our services. Right now, Aaru is a seething mess of violence and anarchy as every angel tries to claw their way up to the top of our ‘list’.”

The eldest glowed in fury. “I’ll have your wings for this, Tura.”

The other angel smiled. “I think I’ll have yours instead.”

A light strong enough to penetrate his subdued visual senses blinded Gabriel, and he suddenly felt the presence of many angels. The room erupted into action.

Raphael stood and launched the huge conference table on its side as a makeshift shield, nearly crushing Gabriel on the other side. He dropped and rolled, pummeled by the bound reports and the vials of demon essence. Two broke, filling the room with a green haze. It was nearly impossible to see with human vision, so Gabriel reached out with angelic senses to perceive what was happening.

Bolts of white energy flew about the room as Tura’s angels and the Council battled. Rising, Gabriel was again knocked to the floor as the conference table exploded into flying debris. What the heck was he doing in the middle of this? He was a messenger, the Angel of Truth, not a warrior.

Staggering to his feet, Gabriel saw how outnumbered they were with nearly a hundred of Tura’s angels crammed into the small room. Normally it would take an army to go against the strongest angels in Aaru, but here, among the humans, they were vulnerable in their corporeal forms. Tura’s forces were hampered by the close confines of the conference room, but they were also prepared with physical weapons.

An explosion filled the room, and the walls around them vanished, allowing for greater maneuverability for both sides. Gabriel ran for the action, trying to determine who was friend or foe in the blinding light and dust. A blaze of white scored his side. He tripped, landing face down on a human. He stared into dead, shocked eyes then looked down to see the lower half of the man was nothing but a pile of sand. Once again they’d brought their problems into the human world. When would this stop? Filled with anger, Gabriel blindly shot out at everything around him. It didn’t matter.
They
were the horrors in this world. There was no good, only evil as far as their impact on the humans. He’d wanted to wash the world clean of humans, but it was the angels who had brought this to their doorstep. Samael had been right, but what was done was done. Gabriel couldn’t change the past, but he could change himself, and, hopefully, the future.

He dove at the nearest angel, taking him by surprise. The angel blocked Gabriel’s blast, and jammed cold steel against his chest, firing off ten rounds from the human weapon. The impact drove Gabriel backwards a step into the sharp edge of a table, but he managed to keep a firm hold on the angel, wrestling to grip his spirit self. The angel twisted to get loose, hammering Gabriel with both his fist and bolts of energy. He might not be a fighter, but Gabriel was old, and he was strong. He put a hand back on the table to stabilize his physical form as he fought the angel for control, and felt something soft and sticky under his palm.

A pastry.

His hand curled around it, digging through the icing shell, the sweet caramel center, and the roped bands of bread. Grain, strands of delicate gluten, dairy fat, and sugar. Far more sugar than any human should ever consume. Raising his hand, Gabriel crammed the pastry into the angel’s face, crushing it deeply into his eyes and nostrils. The angel sputtered, hesitating in his surprise and giving Gabriel the opening he needed. He seized hold of the angel’s spirit-self and tore through it, blasting it directly. His opponent realized the danger and struggled, hitting Gabriel repeatedly in the face with the metal human weapon. Gabriel grunted in pain, ignoring the tickle of blood running down his face, and the burning agony in his chest. He shook the angel like a terrier with a rat, letting go as the last bit of flesh and spirit dissolved into sand.