Archon (18 page)

“Israfel, Raziel, and Lucifel. The Angelic Trinity. The pegs on which the universe rests.”

“And”—Angela’s entire self seemed to be yearning, and her voice shook—“what do you know about them?”

“That one is alive, the other dead, and the last—caged.”

Kim had been slowly pulling out the prayer ward in his pocket. Now he unveiled it, waving the paper in front of Nina’s possessor. Nina narrowed her red eyes, stung to the core, reading the Latin scribbled on the ward like it was visual poison. Kim brought it closer, forcing her to squirm in the sheets. “Why not just say that you’re Lucifel’s chick? That the Demon herself is your mother, and that you’re rather upset she abandoned you? But it’s not very nice to use other people just to slap Mama’s hands—”

The angel inside of Nina hissed at him, her frustration eerily similar to Troy’s hunger tantrums. “I am no
demon,
” she said, her words childishly spiteful.

“I never said that. But I did say that Lucifel is your mother.”

Nina turned away, breathing hard.

“Isn’t she?” Kim moved the paper closer. “Those red eyes. You can’t hide what you are, dear. And here everyone thought you were executed, aborted. I wonder how long you’ve been floating around, possessing creature after creature, all so that you can see and hear and speak like us? Pathetic—”

“Kim,” Angela said, grabbing for his prayer ward. She actually sounded upset, afraid of what his interrogation might do to Nina, to them.

He spread an arm, blocking her from coming any closer. Nina’s chest rose and fell, her voice clipped by desperation. This was the dangerous part. “Stop it,” she whispered. “You don’t know what you’re doing . . .”

“What’s your name?”

“Never . . .”

He put the prayer ward on her head, eliciting a shriek. Her red eyes flashed, pained. “What is your name?”

“No,” she shouted as she twisted, sliding closer to the headboard, “I won’t. I won’t let you—”

“
Now
.”

The walls shook, vibrating. Crystal vases slid from their shelves and clattered to the floor, some breaking. The candle sputtered, threatening to snuff out. Angela barely flinched, completely absorbed by the spectacle of Nina, her eyes red as a rabbit’s, her face still hers and yet not her own, twisting her mouth open and spitting out the name that would free her from Kim’s power. “
Mikel. My name is Mikel
.”

He ripped the prayer ward away.

It spun from him, disintegrating into hundreds of tiny pieces. Paper flakes drifted to the floor like snow, snagged in Sophia’s hair, and dusted the laces of Angela’s boots. Slowly, reluctant to take her eyes off Nina, Angela stooped and began to pick up the broken glass, piece by piece. Her expression was utterly flabbergasted and unsettlingly resigned. Almost against her will, she was becoming used to this.

“Mikel,” Kim pressed. “Let Nina go.”

“I told you not to try,” the angel said, petulant but oppressed by the use of its name. “It’s ridiculous to try. You can’t evict me. Nina Willis was willing, and now we share a bond.”

“Then bring her back, so she can tell us that herself.”

“Not yet. Not until you speak to Tileaf.”

Tileaf. The world’s last surviving Fae Queen. Her tree was the symbol and namesake of Westwood Academy, but it was also cut off from students, novices, and citizens of Luz who weren’t in the know and didn’t want the burden of living with the knowledge. Tileaf’s powers had provided prosperity and power to the Vatican officials at the Academy for a century, and lately they’d been tapping her like a maple, draining all the sap of her energy with the most menial requests or demands. Perhaps exulting in humanity’s imminent sufferings, she’d triumphantly revealed to the priests that the Archon would indeed be a woman, and that when the time came, they would be under Her heel like the insects they were.

But to speak with her
 
. . .

It was almost out of the question. Tileaf had no consideration for anything now but death. Actually dying but unable to speed up the process, she hated anything that couldn’t grant her the release her heart desired. That, of course, meant most living things.

“Who is Tileaf?” Angela said, and the name rolled off her tongue with reverence. Wonder.

Kim turned from her, missing their tryst, half wishing for all the world to implode. He hadn’t counted on one of Lucifel’s legendary children to burst out of the past and into his life, and he couldn’t understand why it was happening now and not five years ago, ten years ago. Why had Mikel waited until this moment? “Tileaf is a defector from the angelic realm,” he said to Angela, trying to bite away his fear. “But you would be more familiar with the term faerie. And she doesn’t have any affection for humans. We’ll have to take Troy with us.”

From the look on Angela’s face, that was not what she had in mind.

“I’ll stay here,” Sophia said, folding her hands on her lap, gazing out at the night. “Naamah and Stephanie won’t bother me, but—I’m sure Kim agrees—you and Nina need to leave, Angela.”

“Admirable,” Kim muttered. “The sacrifice in you.”

Sophia sucked in a breath that was more likely her next comment.

Kim walked over and grabbed Angela’s hand, kissing it. He couldn’t help himself. Not with Sophia so infuriated and Angela standing in front of him, accepting his reverence like she was the true Archon and not merely a human who’d be staring Lucifel’s Grail in the literal eye, wobbling on the edge of a terrifying darkness. “Remember,” he said to her softly, “that I can protect you. But not against Troy. If you show any signs of weakness, I can’t promise your safety. To stand with her, you must think like her.”

“And how is that?” Angela said, her face fiercer than she realized. Her hair was like a waterfall of blood, cascading past her shoulders. Long, needle straight, and portentous.

“Hunt hard. Kill swiftly. Waste nothing. And—”

He let her go. It was never good to grow too attached.

“—offer no apologies.”

Nineteen

They had a great city, the terror and beauty of the Underworld before a single War crushed it mercilessly. Its name is a prayer to these beings; the distillation of their hopes for vengeance, given only to the most excellent and skilled of their kind. But human language is a poor filter for their alien speech, and so, we must make do with approximations of dreadful things.

—
C
ARDINAL
D
EMIAN
Y
ATES,
A Brief Compendium of Hell and Its Realms

T
roy. The High Assassin of the Jinn.

Thanks to Kim’s hasty, half-whispered explanations, Angela had learned before stepping into his cousin’s lair that she was the product of a world where compassion equaled death, and hunger steered the soul. Where any weak links weeded themselves out in a vast and intricate darkness. In essence, she was the personification of survival of the fittest.

Through the prism with which Troy saw the world, Angela would show her true colors— either as a help, or a hindrance destined to bleed beneath her nails.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to say which one the Jinn was deciding on at the moment, and Angela’s breath stopped, and her heart nearly seized up inside of her as they stood perilously near to one another. Kim had taken Angela up into the Bell Attic at the top of the Tower, where Troy had kept her larder since coming to Luz, stashing her half-eaten bones and body pieces in a space that stank of bat dung and rotten flesh. Up close, she was perhaps even more terrifying and beautiful than in the shadows, the blue veins of her skin taking on the appearance of intricate lacework, her large eyes such a brilliant yellow that they bordered on fluorescent. Every other second, her left ear flicked, swinging a chain earring with a metal crow’s foot at its end. Her hair was a short, choppy mess, knotted with tiny bones and teeth, and they rattled softly as she turned her head aside, considering.

“Why did you bring her here?” she said to Kim, her teeth bared.

“We need your help.” He actually sounded nervous, and his voice took on that shaky quality it had possessed in the cathedral. Troy must have been spying on them that day. How horrible. “Angela’s friend is possessed, Troy.”

The Jinn snorted, looking amused. She was reclining like a cat, her wings folded crisply against her back, bones crunching beneath her feet as she shifted position. “Bring her to me. I’ll put an end to that quickly enough.”

“It’s not that simple. She wants us to speak with Tileaf.”

Troy’s ears flipped back against her skull. An irritated growl rumbled in her throat.

Oh, God. She’s not happy. Why did we come here? Why?

The Jinn rocked onto her feet and stood with surprising grace, revealing the flash of a metal chain beneath her rags. There was a glint of an unbelievable green, but it vanished just as quickly. Kim was keeping the light purposefully poor, perhaps to hide much of the carnage around them, and perhaps for Troy’s sensitive eyes. But even this wasn’t enough, and whenever the candle flickered, she hissed as if it were a flame pressed to her skin. “The Fae will murder you the second you step within her reach,” she snapped at Angela, “and then Sariel can mop up your blood with his priestly coat. Perhaps he hasn’t told you, but for years he’s used her leaves to make exorcism wards.”

“What a bitch you are tonight.” Kim’s eyes brightened with spite.

Now the cut on his cheek explained itself. Judging by the little snarl in his voice, Angela suspected these arguments were day-to-day affairs. Kim wasn’t a full-blooded Jinn, and he could hide whatever nastiness he’d inherited from them, but Angela was smart enough to know he’d certainly slipped every now and then. Hopefully she wouldn’t be there the next time his confident and calm demeanor collapsed.

“Oh, the truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Troy spat, laughing. “But the fact remains, if you weren’t such an abusive bastard, things wouldn’t be so hard now, would they? Remind you of anyone, Sariel? Those old tales of your father come to mind.”

Angela stepped forward, eager to make her presence better known.

She thought otherwise almost instantly.

Troy leaped for him, her wings beating so powerfully that bats spiraled out of the tower, shrieking in alarm. Fury burst through their black cloud, landing beside Angela to cheer on her master to victory, croaking with dark excitement.

She’s going to tear his throat open.

Her nails were inches from his neck.

Kim thrust out his hand, muttering a Latin phrase that sounded more like a wish than a prayer.

Troy swerved, landing so that her left pinions rubbed like sandpaper against Angela’s tights. Despite the feathers, her wing felt hard and overly muscular, probably painful if it hit you the wrong way.

Troy laughed again, her teeth catching the candlelight. Kim must have worked some kind of magic, because miraculously, the wick had stayed lit.

“You’re such a weak coward,” the Jinn hissed, regaining her old anger. “Why not fight me like the man you claim to be for a change? Give me something to do other than eat your girlfriends.”

Troy rounded on Angela, sniffing, her teeth wet with saliva. Her eyes narrowed, maybe fatally. “You smell wrong,” she said, ears cocking forward.

Kim’s face said it all.
Don’t move.

Angela’s knees shook, and she locked them together, conscious of her beating heart, her breath, the all-too-sudden silence. Fury strutted away into the dark corners of the Bell Attic, tugging at something hidden behind the actual bell. They were so high up above Luz that when the wind whistled again, gusting through the openings and back out into the night, it came with a blast of unbelievable coldness. How tired she was. Aching for sleep, selfishly disappointed that Nina was possessed by the Devil’s spawn rather than the beautiful angel she loved.

“What are you?” Troy said softly. She seemed amazed by something.

“I’m a human.”

“I mean
you,
” the Jinn shot back, instantly annoyed. She circled Angela like a prowling lion. “
You. Your inner self.
”

“The Archon?” Kim said.

Troy glared at him, her hair standing on end. “She smells wrong, Sariel. She’s wrong inside.”

Tell me something I don’t know already
.

“And how is that?” Angela dared to say. Her exhaustion was overriding her common sense.

Troy hissed, ignoring her. “Angels don’t smell like this.”

“Well, then your nose is wrong for once,” Kim said, his tone cool. “You saved her from the water—and yet you wait until now—”

“The water hid the scent,” Troy snarled at him, equally cool. “Did you ever consider, cousin, that maybe
you’re
wrong? That your
human prophecy
is wrong. Maybe Raziel is the spirit protecting the Archon. Maybe the Archon itself is something else entirely.”

“Like what?” He crossed his arms, waiting.

Troy let out a long sigh, flexing her wings. Then she turned from Angela, obviously thinking, but in a Jinn way that dropped her back onto the floor, sitting on her haunches to lick her nails. If she could also smell Nina waiting for them on the lower stairs, she barely showed a sign of it. Instead she lifted her head, catching the next breeze and its various scents, as if they could help her with whatever new decision she was trying to make. Kim watched her cautiously, waving Angela off from approaching any closer. Finally, Troy spoke again, and she actually sounded tired. “She can’t stay. We must get rid of her.”

Angela’s throat went dry. She turned to Kim, trying to get the message across without saying a word. Death wasn’t part of her plans anymore.

He stared at her, apologetic, but inched closer to Troy than was probably wise. Her nails scraped into the stone, like she was holding back her desire to rip out his spine.

“That’s too drastic.”

Troy spun back around, her wings beating the air violently. “Too drastic? And so says the man who would be smart to prolong his search. I’m wondering—what tricks do you have up your sleeve? Why not kill her and wait a thousand more years? This is your Earth, not mine.” Her expression was chillingly indifferent. “And I could care less if it cracks like a hollow bone.”

“I’m not saying that she’s special—”

That’s not what he said the other night. My dreams . . .

“—but it would be stupid to kill her just because she smells different, Troy. One of Lucifel’s chicks has found her—” He stepped nearer. “There has to be a reason—”

Troy’s hair bristled even more frighteningly. “Don’t say that name in my presence—”

“Try this, and I’ll make sure they exorcise you.” His pale face became cold, unreadable.

“Oh, the priests?” Troy was a terrible spectacle now, all sleek rage and beautiful anger. Like a nightmare Angela never wanted to end. Maybe it was those glowing eyes, the way they sucked you into themselves and dismissed you just as easily. “And what then? The minute they send me back, I’ll begin my return, and there will be no second chances for you that time, cousin.” Her tone of voice was promising and hungry. “First, I’ll take them down, one by one—send them to the second death where my relatives await—and then I’ll come after you, and I swear by all the hunger inside of me that my retribution will hurt.”

Silence. Kim breathed heavily, but he said nothing.

“The last thing we need,” Troy whispered, “is a problem on our hands, and no time to fix it. We do the smart thing. She dies. Now.” She composed herself, settling her wings against her back, turning back to Angela at last. “Any final requests? This is going to be quick.”

“Yes, actually I’d like you to change your mind.”

“Not about to happen.” Troy’s upper lip quivered. “You have five minutes to hide somewhere if you want. It would be more entertaining than just walking up and slitting your throat.”

“You’re not doing this.”

Troy’s eyes brightened, her smile deadly. “No? And how do you propose to stop me?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to.”

“Ah, the reluctant victim,” the Jinn said, slipping into the shadows like smoke. “But I doubt you’ll even know what hit you . . .”

Kim’s anger was out in the open now. “You should never have opened your mouth—”

Scrabbling. The soft sound of laughter amid the wind. Troy was above them somewhere.

“What do I do?” Angela said, frantic. “How do I fight her off?”

“You can’t. You can’t do a goddamned thing.”

“Can’t
you
?” she screamed back at him.

“Do you think it will make a difference?” He gestured wildly at the darkness around them, but made no move to come any closer. When she realized why, it felt like all the life had already drained out of her. He was resigning himself to her death. She could see it in the new and shockingly distant expression on his face. “She’ll just murder you the next second I close my eyes,” he whispered. “It will either end here, or somewhere worse.”

Feathers rustled overhead. Angela looked up, only to see Fury gazing at her sympathetically.

“At least hide,” Kim said, despair in his voice. It was obvious he couldn’t help her without paying for his actions later anyway—and Angela understood his reasoning. Her death would be a blow, but not as terrible as one from Troy. He must have gone through this enough times that hoping for the best was no longer an option. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Time’s up.” The Jinn dropped from the darkness, a maelstrom of feathers and incredible menace, leaving Angela less than a breath to dodge her. But Troy was enjoying the chase, and she let her escape, toying with her like a cat.

Angela backed into the corner where Fury had been tugging at her prize.

Maribel’s corpse knocked into her boots. She was half eaten, her rib cage exposed, and such a mess of blood that it was impossible to stare without throwing up. Angela choked down the bile rising into her mouth, desperately trying to regain her sanity. Troy continued to pace nearer and nearer, her expression now more business than games. For all her nasty sarcasm, she took murder seriously. Like Kim said, there would be no apologies.

She’s just like any other predator. Beautiful and a hundred times smarter, but still a predator. Even if she’s immortal, she can die. She has weaknesses, limitations.

The problem would be figuring them out in the space of a few seconds.

She remembered Kim’s own attempt to save himself.

Latin. It hurts her.

But Angela didn’t know any Latin. Except
 
. . .

Anything. Anything is better than nothing.

“
Omnes relinquite spes,
” Angela shouted.

Troy shuddered like she’d been rapped on the knuckles. Her lip quivered up again, revealing her glistening teeth. “That was uncalled for,” she said, still advancing, though slower than before.