Plague of Angels (37 page)

The morning before, Nyx had laid her young-seeming body on the main table of the hall, and let all those who wished take their pleasure on her. It had lasted the day and night, and at the end of it she was, if not satisfied, at least satiated. And when the last of the fifty monks had finished his third turn on her, she had risen off the table smiled, and let her true form show.

The monks had ran, horrified, at the sight of her white skin and horned crown and snake’s eyes. They screamed when she spread her wings and laughed at them all. She and Ishtar and Persephone drove them to their cells and locked them in. Through the walls she could hear them wailing and praying as they realized how far they had fallen.

It was delightful. But it was not Tribunal.

And now she sat, a glass of the very fine wine that the monks made in her hand, and watched the sunset. Persephone sat beside her, drinking slowly from her own glass.

“So,” said Persephone. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

Nyx shook her head. “When Ishtar is done.”

She tuned her hearing to the monks’ cells, isolating their voices one by one until she heard the one that Ishtar had dragged from the hall that morning, whipping him as he went. The man was gasping in pain and pleasure simultaneously, and Ishtar was moaning louder and louder until she cried out in pleasure. The man’s gasps stopped suddenly, then Ishtar’s whip slashed into flesh a half-dozen times, and the gasps turned to screams.

“I’d say she’s done,” said Persephone, smiling.

Ishtar, as naked as the others, joined them on the hill. Persephone handed her a glass of wine as she sat beside them.

“And now what, my Queen?” asked Ishtar. “Do we kill them all and burn down their monastery?”

“No,” said Nyx. “Let them wallow in their guilt. Let the pain of their broken vows haunt them for a time.”

“Then what?” asked Persephone “What do we do, now that Jerusalem is ours?”

Nyx smiled at them. “We make an Angel.”

It was rare that she could surprise either Ishtar or Persephone, and Nyx enjoyed immensely the expressions on their faces. She explained it all, explained her plan and Tribunal’s and how they would do it.

“Make an Angel,” mused Ishtar.

“And kill an Angel,” said Persephone, her voice much more foreboding than Ishtar’s.

“We have destroyed Angels before, all of us,” said Nyx. “This will be no different.”

“And what about Hell?” asked Ishtar. “Lucifer has ruled there for a thousand years. I doubt he’ll wish to hand over the reins just because you return.”

“Don’t worry about Lucifer,” said Nyx. “He’ll fall in line when he learns what’s at stake.”

Persephone looked doubtful, but nodded. “All right, then, how will we make an Angel?”

Nyx smiled. “I’ll let you know when it is time,” she said.

“And when will be time?” asked Ishtar.

Nyx rose and her wings spread out. “Soon.” She lifted her head, reading the weather and the wind, then raised a hand. Fire danced in it momentarily, before she cast it into the valley of grapes below.

They would not be killed, these monks, but some sort of punishment was in order, and what better than to have them emerge from their cells and see their beloved vineyards destroyed?

“Come,” she said as she rose into the sky. “Let’s find our Angel.”

The three flew off into the early morning light, leaving wails of sorrow and growing flames behind them.

Chapter 11

Nyx flew high
above the Mediterranean. The sea below was the spectacular blue that only the Mediterranean offered. The islands were green and lush or sandy or rocky or all three simultaneously. It was, truly, one of the most beautiful places on God’s Earth.

Tribunal’s Earth soon,
thought Nyx.
Tribunal’s and mine.

She didn’t know where to land. She didn’t know where she should be to bring an Angel into the world. Should it be somewhere beautiful? Somewhere black and bleak? Should she bring it forth in her cave and watch its horror as it realized it was to be a sacrifice?

Can I sacrifice it?
She shook her head. She had no idea where the doubt was coming from.
Tribunal told me to do it. He wouldn’t have told me to do it if He didn’t think I could. So I’ll do it and fuck all this self-doubt.

She flew on, looking for a place of power.

Once the Angel is created, then I have to get it down to Hell and sacrifice it,
she told herself.
Tribunal didn’t tell me what the ritual is, though.

The doors between the worlds would re-open when the Angel was created. She could ask him then – would have to ask him then, if she was to do as he bid. He’ll let me know when the time is come.

First I create the Angel. Everything else follows.

“Oh for fuck’s sake stop dithering and do it!” Nyx shouted at herself, startling both Ishtar and Persephone. She looked around her, picked a small island with only ruins and flew down toward it.
I am the Queen of Hell. I can open a portal from anywhere, so I’ll damn well open it from here!

“What are you dithering about?” asked Ishtar. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No!” snapped Nyx, all the while wondering:
What is my problem? This is nothing. One birth. One death. No big deal.

It is a big deal,
Nyx realized.
It’s not a birth; it’s creation.

That was what was scaring her. That was what was taking her so long. Any mammal on the planet could give birth. It was messy, bloody, and half the time the young didn’t survive. Didn’t matter in the slightest. This, though, this was creation. And only God did creation. For her to do so was blasphemy of the highest order.

I don’t care!
Nyx raged at herself.
I don’t! I don’t give a flying fuck about God and I don’t give a flying ass-fuck about blasphemy! I’m going to destroy God!

She was still scared.

They flew low over the waters, and Nyx saw people staring up at them from small fishing boats.

“I thought this place was deserted,” said Nyx.

In Tribunal’s name.

She looked to Ishtar. “Make it deserted.”

Ishtar grinned a mouth full of razors at her and banked away, her sword and whip appearing in her hands.

“Where do you want to do this?” asked Persephone.

“The ruins, there,” pointed Nyx. “As soon as Ishtar gets back.”

They flew low over the lush forest, scattering the birds and the small animals that lived in the trees. The forest gave way to a clearing, and in the midst of it, the tall, round remains of a temple rose up. The proud marble columns and stone walls had been laid low over the centuries, the rocks that made its walls were scattered around it, and creeper vines had long since covered every piece of rock with a layer of green.

Nyx started laughing.
It’s one of mine!

She alighted on the grass that covered the paving stones. The faded and fragmentary remains of murals were just visible in places where the inner wall had been shielded from the elements. What the images had been she couldn’t determined from these faint scraps of color. Otherwise, the stone was covered with moss or bare. The altar was still there, but nothing was left of the statue.

“This will do,” said Nyx.

“It most will,” said Persephone. “Now what?”

“Now,” said Nyx, “We wait for Ishtar to finish up, and then we’ll be ready.”

“Shall I clear the space?” asked Persephone. “It won’t take long.”

“Do it,” said Nyx. She walked over and perched herself on the altar. The stone was warm beneath her backside, and the green all around was more pleasant than she liked to admit. It made her feel safe and cozy. Her priests had been so devoted. And even that young man who’d been there long after the priests had vanished…

The one I killed.

She shoved the thought out of her mind. Today was not about the past.

Persephone moved so fast she was a blur, clearing the stone floor of the weeds and leaves, using the wind from her wings to blow them out of the sanctuary and send them flying into the clearing beyond. She moved a thousand years’ debris in minutes, leaving bare stone, a clear altar, and a fire in what was left of the pit.

“Very nice,” said Nyx, approvingly. She felt an Angelic presence coming closer. “And here comes Ishtar.”

Ishtar landed, a smile on her face and blood splattering her body. “There is nothing human left on the island,” she said. “Their boats are sunk, their houses destroyed and their animals scattered.”

“Well done,” said Nyx, smiling at her. Ishtar’s pride was still sorely wounded, she knew, though her flesh had long since healed. “You serve me well, my dear.”

“I thank you, my lady,” said Ishtar, bowing. “Now. How do you create an Angel?”

“With willpower and the Word,” said Nyx.

“The Word?” Persephone’s eyes widened. “
THE
Word?”

“The very one,” said Nyx. “And when the Angel comes into being, the doors of Heaven and Hell will open once more. We’ll be able to talk to Tribunal directly.”

“And God will be able to come for us,” said Persephone. “Or Michael.”

Nyx shook her head. “No. Tribunal promised me. He’ll keep anyone from coming after us until after the Angel is dead.”

“All right,” said Ishtar. “Then create it so we can get down to Hell and kill it properly.”

“I’m going to!” Nyx snapped.
Why am I angry?
“Sorry. I’m feeling…odd about this.”

“Angels don’t create,” said Persephone. “At least, we haven’t so far.”

“So, another first for you, then,” said Ishtar. “First to lead a rebellion against God, first to be cast from Heaven, and now, first to create. Go for it.”

There was something in Ishtar’s tone that Nyx didn’t like at all, but she let it lie. She had too much to think about just now.
Maybe I should have done this alone.

“Willpower and the word,” she murmured to herself as she closed her eyes. She envisioned her Angel, stepping forward, complete and whole, fresh from creation, with all the knowledge and strength that God had given his Angels. Only he won’t be his. He’ll be mine.

The Angel was going to be male. Of that Nyx was certain. She was creating it and she could make it however she wanted. All that was needed was the Word.

So say it, you wimp,
she told herself.
Say it now.

She said it, and the world changed.

The sheer force of it knocked Ishtar and Persephone off their feet, sending them flying back against the wall. The island itself shook, as if it wanted to tear itself from it’s foundations and float away into the Mediterranean. The waters around the island boiled, sending out giant waves that would soon crash into the shores for miles around, some taking down cliffs, others washing away entire towns.

Around the world, those who worshipped God felt a stirring: a sense of power that they could not understand, and the sudden, sure knowledge of His existence. The followers of Nyx around the world felt something similar—something powerful and ancient and strengthening that swept away any fears they had of her plans and made them ready to embrace them.

A dozen wars stopped for no reason.

A dozen more started in other places.

And on the island itself, immersed in the massive power of the Word, Nyx envisioned an Angel coming into being. She felt her very being stretching and expanding, as if she was too small a vessel for the task and had to be enlarged to do the job.

The fear rose up in her once more.
Who am I to do this?
She forced the question aside, and kept her attention on her idea of an Angel. She envisioned how he would look, how he would act, his strengths and talents, how he would serve her.

The world over the island became brighter and brighter, and all three Angels screamed as the power of the Word laid them open, blasting through flesh and bone to find and lay bare their very essences, revealing every thought, every action, every hurt, every joy, in a sudden, grand panoply of pain and ecstasy that nearly ripped Ishtar and Persephone’s minds apart.

It is so much more powerful here,
Nyx realized.
So much stronger that it was in Sheol.

Here, in the created world. On God’s earth.

Mine. The Earth is mine, now.

The white light began to fade. The earth stopped shaking and the birds and animals that had been sent scurrying through the forest settled once more into hiding. Around the world, things returned slowly to normal. And on the island, Nyx regained her vision. Then blinked in astonishment.

The collapsed temple was whole again. The roof soared overhead, and the murals were once more whole and bright and beautiful. The statue of her in the middle was restored, as smooth and shapely as the day it was placed there, and the altar cleaned and polished to perfection. All the debris and wreckage of the centuries had vanished.

“Wow,” said Persephone.

“Where’s the Angel?” asked Ishtar.

“I don’t…” Nyx sent her mind questing through the world, looking for an Angelic presence. “I don’t know. It’s not out there.”

“It didn’t work?” said Persephone, sadness filling her. “Why didn’t it work?”

“Because Angels can’t create,” snapped Ishtar. “God doesn’t let us create. And there’s no way He’d let us create an Angel.”

“It has to have worked,” said Nyx, sliding off her altar. She felt weak and dizzy and nauseated. Still she pushed her consciousness outward, circling the planet with her mind. “It can’t have failed.”

Persephone caught her as she started to fall.

Nyx awoke hungry.

She was an Angel. She was not used to being hungry. She could eat, certainly, and enjoyed many of the foods of the Earth. She did not need to eat, however, and so to feel ravenously hungry was both shocking and horrifying.

It must have been the Word,
she reasoned.
Using it probably takes a lot of energy. So my body needs to replenish.

She opened her eyes and found herself lying on a bed of leaves and flowers, with blankets wrapped around her. She was outside the temple, in the warmth of the Mediterranean late afternoon sun. The sky was a deep blue. The only sounds were birds, bees and the low swish of the waves. Persephone and Ishtar were both watching her intently, and both jumped when her eyes opened.

“Are you all right?” demanded Persephone. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” said Nyx. She pushed herself into a sitting position and groaned. “My stomach feels a bit tender.” She rubbed her hand over her abdomen. “It’s swollen.” She shook her head. “And I’m hungry.”

“Hungry?” repeated Ishtar. “Angels don’t get hungry.”

“Well, apparently, after they say the Word, they do.” Nyx pushed herself to her feet.

“What do you want to eat?” asked Persephone.

“Anything,” said Nyx. “And it doesn’t need to be cooked first, either.”

The Angels sped off.

Persephone came back first with grapes. Nyx devoured them without spitting the seeds out. Ishtar came back with fish from the destroyed village below and Nyx ate that, too. It was delicious in a wholly different way than food usually was, and it wasn’t enough. She spread her wings and flew into the sky, aware by the drag that her belly was even more swollen. She spotted a school of fish and dove into the water, grabbing at them with both hands and tearing them apart, shoving the torn and ripped flesh down her throat. The water became murky with blood and guts, and soon larger predators began to approach. She spotted half a dozen sharks and swam toward them, her wings propelling her through the water as easily as they had the air. The sharks shied away, but Nyx caught one and began devouring it on the spot as it thrashed helplessly. The other sharks circled them, looking for their own opportunity to gorge. Nyx killed and ate six more, and with each one she ingested, her belly bulged more.