Elven Blood (Imp Book 3) (17 page)

Wyatt caught his breath. “You have two hundred and twenty eight souls inside you? Are they in some kind of coma until you need them?”

“No, they are active and aware, every last one of them. I provide environment, sensory input, experience. It wouldn’t be any fun if they were all like folders in a file cabinet. They need to be active, otherwise why bother to Own them?”

“How do you manage all that?” Wyatt asked, astounded.

“I don’t really think about it. It’s kind of like breathing to you. You can concentrate on it, or you can set a standard for a default breathing pattern and just do it. Not unconsciously, but semi–consciously. You feel it; you know you’re breathing, but you don’t need to divert brain power every time you take a breath.”

“Seriously?” He sometimes had a hard time thinking what it meant for me to be a demon, a totally different creature, a being of spirit. I think he sometimes thought of me as just a weird human.

“Yep. We all do this. Well except for angels. They don’t Own, but they do similar types of multi–tasking. Gregory really rocks. He can do this aspect thing where he assumes multiple corporeal forms. I have no idea at all how he manages to do that. I’ve never seen it, but I hope he shows me some time. Can you imagine?” I was awestruck at the thought. His power was so unbelievable.

Wyatt scowled. Oh yeah, not a good time to be talking about an angel when you’re wrapped up in your lover’s arms. Especially an angel I admired so much.

“Are they happy? What is it like for your Owned humans?”

“A few are happy, but happy really isn’t much fun. I get really creative with the environments, but the best ones are pulled from a human’s own mind—their fears, their sins in life, whatever they dread the most. That’s what elicits the greatest reaction.”

Wyatt hesitated. “So it’s like hell, only it’s inside you.”

“No, Hel is a place. It wouldn’t work to duplicate Hel as an environment; none of the humans I Own have ever been there.”

“I don’t mean your home Hel. I mean hell as in how the humans perceive it. A place where the damned spend eternity in torturous punishment.”

“Kind of,” I wasn’t really sure where he was going with this. “I’m not punishing them though; it’s all in good fun”

Wyatt shuddered. “Not for them. So they are evil people? Suffering because of their misdeeds during life?”

“It’s not like prison. I don’t judge them and deliver punishment.”

Wyatt frowned. “So you just grab someone, take their soul and do whatever you want to them, regardless of whether they deserved it or not? You snatch people, unwilling, then give them pain and suffering even if they’ve been good people during their lives.”

I squirmed. Demons never really thought about humans as anything worthy of judgment or fair treatment. We didn’t even think in those terms with regards to other demons. But I’d been here so long, and I had human friends. What if one of Haagenti’s goons Owned Michelle or even Wyatt, and made them feel like they were starving, or itching all over with no relief, or slowly burning? I couldn’t stand the thought of them suffering like that. They were my friends.

“It’s what we do, Wyatt. That’s part of being a demon. We spread plagues, create famine, start wars, and we Own. A lot of my Owned humans are willing.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re punishing innocent people.”

Innocent was a kind of subjective term. I’m certain the worst mass murderer had people who thought he was innocent. I wasn’t sure how to explain this whole thing to Wyatt, though. I didn’t even want to look too closely at it myself at this point. I’d changed how I felt about humans over the last few months and now I found myself wondering about these things too.

“Most of the humans I Own are what you would consider bad. I don’t have any nuns or charity workers. I daydream about Owning people like Hitler and John Wayne Gacy, not the last five winners of the Nobel Peace Prize.”

People are more accepting of torture when they think someone had it coming.

“What if it were me, Sam? How would you feel if a demon Owned me?”

I went cold at the thought. I’d fucking kill anyone who hurt Wyatt. I couldn’t think about all the humans I Owned, couldn’t wrap my head around why it was okay for them, but not for the humans I’d come to care about. But I did want to reassure Wyatt that he was safe with me. I reached out to touch the side of his face.

“I would never Own you Wyatt,” I told him. “I’ve resisted this long, and I’m confident I won’t slip. I don’t want to ever Own you.”

“What if you slipped? Would you torture me? I know you said some are happy, but happy how?”

“I won’t slip, Wyatt. I won’t.” The thought of Owning him made me feel ill. The thought of anyone Owning him made me ill.

“I heard your brother talking about Haagenti. It’s escalating, and there’s a good chance I’ll be killed. Don’t you ever think about Owning me? That way I’d be beyond Haagenti’s reach. Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

I honestly hadn’t.

“Wyatt, I love you. And that’s why I can’t Own you. It would kill me to Own you. I’m absolutely terrified that one of Haagenti’s demons will kill you, but never once did I think Owning you was an acceptable alternative. Never.”

His eyes were sad. “How can you possibly say that about me, while you continue to Own and torture all those other humans? I’m no different than them, and if you can do it to them, you could do it to me.”

“I won’t do that to you Wyatt. I swear on all the beings I Own.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “And you have no idea how ironic that statement is.” Shaking his head he pulled me close.

“I don’t want this to end, Sam.” I got an odd feeling that he wasn’t just talking about Owning or dying by Haagenti’s hands.

“Me either.” I pressed my face against his shoulder. “Everything ends, though. Even angels and demons. Everything begins and everything ends.” I lifted my head, pulled his face down to mine and kissed him, rubbing my thumb over his jaw. “But not today.”

12

T
he Eastside Tavern was surprisingly full for lunch. We’d snagged a table toward the back, and Wyatt told me about his latest video game adventures while I doused our fries with vinegar.

“Okay,” I said, waving a fry at Wyatt when he’d finished discussing his success in killing zombies. “What did you discover about the angels? Anything different than Dar?”

“I can’t remember what Dar discovered,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was too busy fantasizing about your rear end and what I hoped to do with it.” He handed me some stapled packets.

I summarized the conversation for Wyatt.

“Which one are you?” he asked, amused. “I think Obedience is probably out of the question.”

“Oh totally. Personally I’m hoping for Prosperity, but with my luck I’m probably something boring, like Wisdom.”

Wyatt choked on a fry. “Wisdom? Not likely. I really can’t see you as any of these, Sam. Maybe there should be one called ‘Trouble’, or ‘Mayhem’.”

I would seriously love to be the ‘Trouble’ angel.

Wyatt motioned to the stack of papers in front of me. “I put together summaries on each of them based on scripture as well as modern stories. I’ve got to say, there are a lot of fruitcakes on the Internet though.”

I glanced though the papers, and paused at one, laughing. “Well, Gregory’s probably not this Gabriel guy, or I’d be pregnant.”

“What?” Wyatt grabbed the paper out of my hand.

“See?” I pointed. “He only assumes corporeal form to appear to women and tell them their pregnant. Isn’t that just hysterical? He’s got a stork fantasy going on.”

“I think it’s just Mary,” Wyatt said, searching the paper. “And sometimes he announces John the Baptist’s conception.”

“Yeah, he’s a stork,” I laughed.

I froze, staring at one of the papers. “Holy shit on a stick, look at this.” I thrust it at Wyatt.

“Yeah Samael, also called Samiel, sometimes the fifth archangel listed with the other four. He’s only cited in a couple of places….” Wyatt’s voice trailed off and he looked up at me in surprise. “But you said your name was an assumed identity from a human you Owned. Samantha Martin.”

“Yes, but angels don’t believe in coincidence. And Gregory vehemently refuses to call me Sam.”

Could it be? Could Samael be the other brother, the younger one who died in the wars? How could he stand to be around me when my current name was a constant reminder of how much he’d lost?

“It doesn’t mean anything. He only calls you cockroach because it’s derogatory and it pisses you off.”

“Still, I go by Sam here, among the humans.”

“There is a Satan mentioned as one of seven archangels in a few documents,” Wyatt commented. “Some identify Samael as this Satan.”

“But Gregory’s brother died in the war with the demons. If he was this Samael, the fifth brother, then he wouldn’t have been the Ha–satan, the Iblis.” Or would he?

“Are you sure, Sam? Did Gregory ever say which side his brother was on? We humans have wars that fracture families; it could have been the same with angels.”

I thought back on my conversation with the gate guardian, and with Eloa. Did he die in the wars, or was he
lost?
And nobody had actually said the demons had killed him, or even which side he’d fought on. I’d just assumed that. I remembered playing with lightning, in a thunderstorm with Gregory last August. He’d told me I reminded him of his youngest brother, told me of his impish behavior. Perhaps I’d been wrong. It would explain a lot of Gregory’s odd fascination with me.

“Maybe there was always an Adversary, an Iblis, on the Ruling Council and before the wars, this Samael held that office.”

Wyatt nodded. “So Samael was part of the Ruling Council, as the Iblis, and when you all split, his place was held for him. Originally it was seven angels, and now it’s six angels and Satan. Same players, just one got banished.”

Wyatt’s words filled me with a strange sadness. Gregory’s younger brother … was he this Samael? Had he been the Ha–satan, the Iblis, then he would probably have been the leader of the revolt. His own brother, the Iblis. The one who’d nearly severed his wings. The one Gregory had almost cut in half. How could things have gone so wrong that two beloved brothers almost killed each other? Over what? What could have been so important? Millions of years and he was most likely dead, with me in possession of the sword and the title. The Iblis.

“So now it’s my placeholder.” I frowned. It made sense. I’d always assumed that the Iblis was a military title that came about during the war, but perhaps it had existed before then. Someone to test, to push back against the angels on the Ruling Council. But the spot had been vacant for over two million years. Why had they not replaced the Iblis with someone else, even temporarily? Why had that chair remained empty for so long?

“So what angel was supposedly the Iblis?” I asked Wyatt. “Was it always this Samael?”

“Some say so, while some say Morningstar, or Lucifer. In the Old Testament, he seems to be an angel, sort of like God’s thug. In the New Testament and Christian lore, he’s the archenemy. He’s everything that’s evil and nothing that’s good.”

I hated stereotypes. I’m sure the angels had had a hand in that portrayal of us.

“He tempted Eve in the garden of Eden, caused the fall of humanity.”

“Oh that is such bullshit!” I interrupted. “The demon wars were fought and we were banished long before humans were given the gifts of Aaru. It’s just like those asshole angels to blame that one on us. It was them. They fucked it all up, falling into the sins of the flesh.”

“That story is here too, that it was the fault of angels who fell into sin.” Wyatt assured me. “In modern times though, most humans hold Satan responsible for the fall of Adam and Eve.”

I fumed. We always got blamed for everything.

“Tempting Christ, trying to steal Moses’ corpse. . .” Wyatt trailed off, looking at me nervously.

“Forget it. I don’t want to hear any more.” I was so pissed. If Gregory had been here, I would have yanked my barrette off and sliced his wings to shreds. Jerks, all of them.

“Is he dead?” Wyatt asked. “I’m assuming the previous Iblis, this Lucifer or Samiel guy is dead if you have the sword.”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’d die if the sword left; I just wouldn’t be the Iblis anymore.” I wished that would happen. The previous Iblis must have been psyched to be relieved of his duties.

“Yeah, but you must know if he’s dead or alive,” Wyatt continued. “We know whether all of our ex–presidents are alive or not. Don’t you guys keep track of each other?”

“Not really,” I said with some hesitation. “There are some demons that were alive at the time of the wars. I know a few of their names, but I don’t exactly move in their social circles. One of them may have been the previous Iblis, but I doubt it.”

“Why? Do you think losing the war was just too much and he killed himself?”

“We didn’t lose,” I protested. All this misinformation was irritating. “It was a stalemate. I don’t know, I just think he’s dead.” Nearly cutting off Gregory’s wings, and being almost sliced in half in return—his own brother. A long, vicious war with no clear resolution; an eternal exile, never being able to return to Aaru. I can’t imagine wanting to live after all that.

Wyatt reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Okay. Let’s just move on and look at the rest of the angels who could be on the Ruling Council.”

I stared at his hand, numb, trying to shake off the feeling of sadness that blanketed every emotion.

“Don’t be upset, Sam. I don’t believe this stuff. I know you’re not like that, that you’re not like this horrible Satan of our legends.”

But I was. I took a deep breath and continued to look at the papers Wyatt had so helpfully compiled for me. Dar was right, there was a lot of overlap. All the angel’s responsibilities and duties seemed to run together after a few moments. Then one of the papers caught my eye and I laughed again, my depression evaporating.

“Metatron? Seriously? That’s not an angel; he’s one of those Transformer guys.”

“No, it’s an angel—supposedly one of the greatest; the first and the last, the link between the human and the divine. Some sources say he’s the same as Michael, but others say he’s above Michael.”