Kristina Douglas - The Fallen 1 - Raziel (17 page)

Maybe they were stil arguing over what to do with me. Maybe if the Nephilim breached the wal s, my future would be moot.

I wasn’t about to give up without a fight. I looked over at the windows. Sammael had pushed out a section when he’d taken me up to the mountain—surely there must be some kind of emergency exit from the top floor of this place? I wasn’t sure just how vulnerable the Fal en were, but their wives were certainly mortal.

I moved along the bank of glass, pushing gently, but nothing seemed to shift. I leaned out one window, peering into the darkening night, and shivered, even though the night was warm. In the distance I thought I could hear the muffled sounds of animals, strange growls and strangled screams. The Nephilim, stil outside the gates of Sheol. But for how long?

There was a narrow balcony directly below the windows, no more than a yard deep, with a low wal beyond it, the only barrier between the house and a free fal to the ground far below. The lower floors of the building were cantilevered out—surely there was a way to climb down if I was careful. I’d always been relatively sure-footed, at least before I’d taken a header in front of a city bus. I pushed the window open, swung one leg over the sil , and climbed out into the night air.

The sounds in the darkness were louder, the animal howls and cries of the lost souls fil ing the night, and I almost changed my mind.

But the ocean breeze came through, calming my nervousness, and I concentrated on that, trying to shut the other noise out of my mind. I moved down to one end of the narrow balcony, peering over the edge.

It didn’t look promising. I could try sliding down the smooth expanse of what might be concrete and hope I landed on the balcony one flight down, but that would get me down only one floor, and there were multiple flights below that.

I found the perfect spot and climbed onto the ledge atop the retaining wal , then sat, staring up into the inky sky, watching as the stars came out, breathing in the night air and the tang of the ocean as a slow, decisive calm began to fil me. Nothing would get to me.

No creature was going to rip me into pieces. At least, not now. I was safe here. I had absolutely no idea how I knew it, but I did. This was where I belonged.

Raziel would see to it. If nothing else, I could trust him. Nothing would happen to me. He was down there arguing my case, and he had Sarah for backup. I knew he would keep me safe.

I leaned back, lying down on the ledge to stare at the sky overhead. I wasn’t used to counting on someone else to look after me—I treasured being self-sufficient, needing nothing and no one.

My crazy-ass mother had brought me up practical y isolated from a normal environment, awash in her extremist religion that was a combination of fundamentalist Christianity and survivalism, seasoned with an odd touch of anti-Semitism. Odd, because my mother had been born Hildegarde Steinberg, of devoutly Orthodox Jewish parents. I never knew who my father was, though she’d insisted they’d been married. I always figured she’d bitten his head off after mating.

It was little wonder I had always considered myself an atheist. I had firmly consigned gods, angels, and demons to the ranks of mythology.

Wrong
. I could imagine who was having the last laugh now. Trust me to have found an afterlife ruled by vampires instead of cherubic babies with bare bottoms and tiny harps. I suppose it was better than no afterlife at al , but the Elysian fields would have been preferable.

The animal howls were fading—the wal s of Sheol must have held, at least for now. Raziel was on his way back—I seemed to know that as wel . Was his annoying mind-fuck a two-way street? Or was it some kind of cosmic GPS? He was coming back to me, and I felt my skin heat beneath the clothing. His clothing. I should take it off.

I did nothing, lying there on the ledge. I kicked off one loose shoe, letting it drop onto the balcony, then the other. It slipped and went over the edge, and I could hear it, bouncing, hitting against things as it fel , it fel —

I automatical y sat up, trying to reach for it even though it was too late, and at the last minute I sat back before I went over as wel . I lay back on the ledge, trembling slightly.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sound of the surf. For a moment I could feel his hands on me, on my breasts, and my body lifted instinctively, then sank back, wiping the image from my mind.

Where had that come from?

Two-edged sword, I reminded myself. Was it possible it had come from him? No, it couldn’t be. And I was much better off thinking about Super Fudge Chunk.

Wasn’t there a song about love being better than ice cream, better than chocolate? Did that go for sex as wel ? And, damn, why was I suddenly plagued with the one-track mind of a horny adolescent boy?

So, I wouldn’t think about ice cream. And I most definitely wouldn’t think about sex. Even though I could almost feel his hands on me, feel my nipples harden in the warm night air, feel him—

Shit
, I thought, jerking in protest.

And immediately fel over the edge.

I KNEW THE MOMENT I walked into the council chamber that things were going to take a very ugly turn. Azazel stood at the head of the table, wearing an expression that said there was no negotiating, and the others, most of them, looked equal y grim. Only Sarah and Tamlel looked concerned, and that wasn’t enough to keep the rest from disposing of the unfortunate female in the most logical way possible.

I didn’t want to cal her by name. For some reason, if I cal ed her by name it would make the damnable tenuous bond between us even stronger. Al egra. Al ie. A thorn in my side, a pain in my ass.

But I wasn’t going to let them get to her.

“We wil discuss things in order of importance,” Azazel said.

“Starting with the Nephilim. They are at our gate. For thousands of years we’ve kept Sheol hidden from them, and suddenly they have found us. They are gathering there—I do not know their number, but al it would take would be a moment of inattention, a slip, and they would overrun us.”

“We can fight,” Michael said. “I don’t know why you assume they would have the upper hand. I say let them in, and we’l get rid of them once and for al .”

“Assuming we managed to prevail.” Azazel’s voice was stern.

“And assuming our numbers are not too greatly diminished, we stil have the problem of other Nephilim. They roam throughout the world in search of the Fal en, and if these know of us, then others wil fol ow. It wil be battle after battle, death and carnage.”

“So?” Michael said.

“Not al of us are warriors, Michael.”

“We need to be. We are at war, with Uriel and his legion, with the Nephilim who roam and devour at his behest. This won’t be over until the Nephilim are wiped from the face of this earth.”

“And then what do we do? Uriel wil send someone else, sooner or later, and I sense it might be sooner.” He turned his cold gaze on me. “What do you know of the girl?”

I tensed. “I was sent to take her. I was about to pass her over to the next life when I saw the flames and pul ed her back. I don’t know why—instinct. She had done nothing to merit eternal damnation.”

“And that’s your place to judge?” Azazel said.

I’d known Azazel too long to react. “No. But we shouldn’t fol ow blindly when our instincts say it’s wrong. That is why we fel in the first place—because we questioned. We failed to fol ow orders but fol owed our hearts instead. It’s bad enough when we have to face Uriel’s merciless wrath. If we judge each other, then we are doomed.

She didn’t deserve eternal damnation. She’d done nothing.”

“She fornicated outside of marriage. She mocked the covenants.

That would be enough for Uriel to condemn her.”

“But not enough for us.” Sarah’s voice broke through, calm and assured. As the Source she had a voice on the Council, one she seldom used. Tonight was different. “Do we aspire to Uriel’s level of perfection? Have we ever considered mindless punishment a reasoned response?”

Azazel’s glance softened for a moment, but he said nothing.

“There’s another possibility we need to discuss.” This was Sammael, usual y silent during these meetings, and I looked at him in surprise. I had always been one of Sammael’s closest friends, a mentor of sorts. He hadn’t been among the first of the Fal en, despite folklore, but fol owed soon after, and his adjustment had been more difficult. Eternal damnation was never easy, but Sammael had once been an idealist. Until Uriel had done with him.

“Yes?” Azazel’s eyes narrowed.

“Her presence here might not be accidental.”

For a moment I was speechless. “You think I betrayed the Fal en

—”

“No, my brother,” he said. “I think Uriel might have tricked you.

Who is to say she’s not a demon, sent into our midst to betray us to the Nephilim and to Uriel himself? How did the Nephilim suddenly arrive at our gates, when we have remained hidden for thousands upon thousands of years? We have never had a stranger come among us. You, Raziel, have never before stopped to consider who a traveler was or where he or she was heading. You’ve never believed it to be your concern, and the rest of us have felt the same.

There are too many to deliver—we can’t stop to pass our own judgment. But something made you stop.” He looked at me, his brown eyes earnest and troubled. “I think she may have cast a spel on you.”

I laughed. “Now you’re saying she’s a witch? I believe we left al that behind many hundreds of years ago.”

“I’m saying she’s a demon. Sent by Uriel to infiltrate and destroy us. You cannot deny he has demons at his command.”

“No,” I said slowly. Uriel ruled over both angels and demons, using them for whatever task he deemed necessary. Once long ago, in a moment of weakness, he’d explained himself: that it was far better for him to rule the demons and dark spirits of the world than let them fal into the hands of the Evil One.

The Evil One he believed to be Lucifer.

We knew there was no source of evil. No Satan, no Iblis, no Prince of Darkness. Evil came from within, just as love and beauty did. Evil was the price humans paid for being alive.

It was a price that had never entered the hal owed confines of Sheol. Unless Sammael was right, and Al ie Watson was one of Uriel’s servants.

It would explain a great deal. The attraction I felt to her was irrational, when I had sworn to mate with no human. I liked soft, sweet women, not females who talked back and questioned my decisions and dared to enter my consciousness, as only a bonded mate should do. If she’d been sent by Uriel, then we had only one choice.

Azazel had turned to me. “Does this seem likely? You know her best. Has she been sent to open the gates of Sheol and bring us al to ruin?”

“No,” Sarah said before I could speak. “Absolutely not. She has a reason to be here, one I don’t yet understand, but there is no evil—”

“I was speaking with Raziel,” Azazel said in a cold voice, and Sarah’s mouth snapped shut. I could almost be amused—he was in for trouble tonight—but I was in no mood to laugh.

“It’s possible,” I said reluctantly. “It would explain a number of anomalies.”

“I think we have no choice, then,” Azazel said. “Either she was properly judged and sentenced to hel , or she is here to destroy us.

She needs to be returned to the eternal fires.”

He was right. For her to have been sent there in the first place, there had to be a reason, even if I hadn’t been able to discover it.

And if she was a traitor, a demon in our midst, then hel was where she belonged.

“You don’t have to be the one to take her,” Azazel added with a trace of compassion. “One of the others can go.”

I said nothing, refusing to accept their ruling. They couldn’t do this.

I wouldn’t let them.

“You’re idiots, al of you,” Sarah snapped, final y having had enough. “Do you no longer trust your Source? Do you think I have no knowledge of what is to be and what is right? None of you count divination among your gifts, but I have seen things.”

“What?” Azazel said sharply.

But Sarah shook her head. “That is not for you to know. Not yet.

You may either ignore my counsel and destroy a woman because you think she might be a witch, just like the wicked ones of old. Or you can give her time. Give Raziel time to discover why she’s here.”

She turned to look at me. “Are you certain she’s not your mate? That would explain everything.”

It would indeed. It would also be a lie. I had known the women I loved from the first time I saw them. There had been a recognition, a knowledge, a peace that was far removed from the anger I felt around Al egra. Al ie.

But I wasn’t going to condemn her to death, not without being certain.

So I lied.

“There is a strong bond between us,” I said, with at least a bit of truth. “And an attraction.”

“Then go to her, Raziel,” Sarah said. “Look into her eyes. You would know a demon if you looked deep enough. Touch her. A demon cannot make love; they can only steal your essence. It’s a simple test.”

A simple test. Put my hands on Al ie Watson and see if she turns into a monster. I would kil her then, if she did. Demons were easy enough to kil as long as you recognized them. Their throats were delicate, easily crushed. Al I had to do was taste her. . . .

I wouldn’t do that. I was ready to prove she wasn’t a demon, but I was far from wil ing to perform the one act that would bind us irrevocably.