Angel of Ruin (30 page)

Five notes, each more delicious than the last. This time she fought down the thrill, knowing it would rob her of the composure she needed to solve this problem. Instantly, he forgot his exorcism.

“Who are you?” he said.

Once again, she was amazed that the key worked so effectively. Then the reason slipped into her consciousness. Lazodeus had used it and his power lingered on it, giving her the command that he boasted.

“Sir, you have wandered in a fit far from your home.” She helped him up, and this time he took her aid. “I shall lead you to the street below.”

“Which street am I upon?”

“Artillery Walk, sir.”

“But I live on Leake Street.”

“You have been a number of days away from home. You need to return to your sister and rest.” She led him down the stairs, he with his hand pressed to his eyes in confusion.

“How did I come to be here?”

“You have been ill, Father Bailey.” Deborah saw Betty out of the corner of her eye, watching them from the kitchen door. She ushered Father Bailey out onto the street. “Do you know which way to go?”

He pointed up the hill and Deborah nodded. “Tell your sister you have been unwell, that the Miltons kindly took you in while the fit was upon you. You need to rest until Lord’s Day.”

His eyes were bewildered. “Yes, yes, I shall tell her that.”

“And by Lord’s Day, you will no longer recall an
acquaintance with Betty Milton or with me. You will have only peace and happiness in your memory.”

“Peace. Happiness.”

“Go now. It is time you were away from here.”

She watched him as he walked unevenly up the hill in the summer haze, and turned the corner. Betty stood behind her. “It is over then?”

“For Father Bailey it is,” Deborah said. “You must not be seen to be my ally, Betty. Mary will not like that.”

“You are not my ally,” Betty said plainly. “Fear not.”

“I must find my sisters, tell them that Max is retrieved.” She ran up the street, her heart thumping wildly. Her fingers went to the key around her neck. Charged with Lazodeus’s potency, what magical strength it now possessed! But she took little joy in it and that surprised her. All was fear and uncertainty, and nothing like the confidence and happiness one might expect from a girl who had the power of angels.

“Lazodeus!” Mary stood in the centre of her secret room. He had to come. He had to soothe the boiling rage in her heart. “Angel, come. Deborah has done an awful thing!”

He appeared in front of her, beautiful and serious in his black clothes, his head tilted to one side as he studied her. “You are angry.”

“I shall strike her. I shall punch her black and blue.”

“There is no need.”

“She released the exorcist.”

“She is a clever girl, Mary. She removed his memory of the events. She is more clever than I am, for I should have realised that that was the safest way to deal with him. I admire her.”

Mary drew herself up tall, jealousy mixing with anger. “Oh? You admire her? Well, why do you not go
to be with her instead of me if you admire her so much? I suppose that I am too stupid to keep your good company any longer.”

Lazodeus laughed. “Mary, you are jealous.”

Mary turned her shoulder to him. “I am not.”

“You dear fool. Why do you think I come to you instead of her?”

“I know not, for your passion for her seems unstoppable.”

“I fear the coldness of Deborah’s embrace. She is all brain, no heart.” His hand was on her shoulder. “Mary? Forgive me complimenting your sister?”

Mary sighed. She never worried about Anne. Naive, stumbling Anne with her idiot’s gait and her pokey face. But Deborah was beautiful, statuesque, golden-haired and pink-skinned. “She is very beautiful,” she said.

“Your beauty is greater.” He slid around to stand in front of her. Picked at the laces of her bodice.

“I do not believe you.”

“You need not believe my words. But you must believe my caresses.” He pushed up her skirts, his fingers gliding up her inner thigh.

Her head fell back and jealousy and anger began to fade. “I believe I am addicted to your touch,” she said.

“Then have your fill of me,” he said, dropping to his knees and burying his face between her legs. The hot touch of his tongue on her core was a scalding silken pleasure. His fingers moved inside her and she was awash with bliss. She only lived in such moments.

“Do not prefer anyone to me,” she whispered. “For I cannot bear the thought.”

Deborah realised, as she walked up towards Amelia’s house, that she now possessed a stronger ability with
the demon key than Amelia herself: Deborah now knew two extra demons and their roles, and the angel magic left on the key made its use flawless. She had to admit, she was unsure how Amelia would deal with this news and so she decided not to hurry in mentioning it. Impulsively, she pulled the key from around her neck and tucked it into her placket. If Amelia asked for its return, she wanted a little more time to experiment.

The tall, dark house waited on the corner. Light summer rain fell, making her hair damp and the cobbles slippery. One of Amelia’s cats — she thought it might be Tuesday — cowered on the doorstep from the rain.

“Hello, what are you doing out here?” she asked as she knocked. When Gisela opened the door, the cat dashed in.

“Are you wet?” the old crone asked.

“A little. ’Tis only a light rain,” Deborah replied, as she came in, pulling off her gloves and hat.

“Amelia is expecting you,” Gisela said. “Go through.”

Just as Deborah was about to open the door to the sitting room, Gisela said, “And I’m expecting you later. I have a floor to be scrubbed.” She smiled her toothless smile and Deborah felt her heart sink. One of the things she despised about Amelia’s tutelage was performing household chores. Even at home she didn’t have to scrub the floor — that was Liza’s job. More and more, she felt such tasks beneath her.

“I shall be pleased to help,” she muttered.

Amelia was waiting, sitting proudly like royalty, surrounded by her cats.

“Tuesday was outside,” Deborah said.

“I wondered where she had got to. Where’s your key?” Amelia gestured towards Deborah’s throat.

“I left it at home. By accident.”

“You must be more careful with it. What if one of your sisters took it?”

Deborah’s memories of the awful night with Father Bailey returned. “I have so many questions to ask you, Amelia.”

“Go on then.”

Deborah sat down. Weary from the last few days, she slumped into a chair and put her head down on a cushion. “First, why can I not see Lazodeus in the scrying mirror?”

“He might have blocked you.”

“Is that possible?”

“Of course. Why do you want to see him?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Immerse the mirror in water. You will see and hear him, but the water will cloak your viewing. What other questions?”

“How can I stop Lazodeus from knowing things about me? He knew I had the demon key.”

“He can only know about you by looking at you when you are physically in his presence. All you need do when you are with him is hold your hand over your forehead. Like this.” Amelia demonstrated with one of her pale hands. “What else?”

“Can an exorcist hurt Lazodeus?”

Amelia laughed scoffingly. “Of course not. If it were that easy, I wouldn’t have a business.”

“You are certain?”

“Absolutely. Why?”

Deborah took a breath and told Amelia the story of Father Bailey.

“I don’t understand,” Amelia said when she was finished. “An exorcism should have no impact on him at all. Yet, what reason would he have for pretending it did?”

“I think he is trying to divide our loyalties,” Deborah said.

“Surely not. I can see no purpose for it.”

Deborah sighed and sat up. “Amelia, he has my sisters in thrall. They would do anything for him. They nearly killed for him.”

“Angels are enchanting by nature.”

“I doubt his motives.”

Amelia waved a dismissive hand. “You doubt everything. That is why you cannot move forward. Less doubting and questioning, and you may find your magical practice expanding.”

“’Tis not in my nature to be reckless,” Deborah replied smoothly. This much she knew of herself and would not change.

Amelia caressed her pale hair imperiously. “Then perhaps you shall never be a great magician.”

Deborah took a moment to think about this. Was Amelia right? She was so tired all of a sudden. Weary with worrying about the angel and the demons in her walls. She wished them all to be gone from her life, to be a girl again with two sisters who were friends and a father whom she adored. She said, “I have become a woman I suppose. That is why I am so unhappy.”

“What are you unhappy about?” Amelia asked, leaning over to touch her hair.

“The demon key has changed. Since Lazodeus used it, it has more power.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever I ask for comes to me immediately.”

“It is not possible.”

“Lazodeus, whether wittingly or not, has affected it.”

Amelia withdrew her hand and sat back to stare at Deborah. “And is this why you didn’t bring it? Did you think that I would try to take it from you?”

“No. I simply forgot it.”

“Yet you have never forgotten it ere today.”

“I assure you, it is coincident. Though I understand how you may suspect otherwise.”

Amelia glanced around at her cats. Without meeting Deborah’s eye she said, “Still, you should bring it back for me to examine.”

“Yes, I shall. Next time.”

“Come back tomorrow with it. You needn’t scrub the floor today.”

Deborah kept her voice even. “I shall not be able to get away from home until our usual meeting day next week. My father is returning and he will have dictation for me. Travelling stimulates his imagination.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes slightly. “Are you certain you cannot?”

“There is more,” Deborah said.

“Go on.”

“Lazodeus called on demons I had never heard of.”

“He did?”

“Did you not know there are others? Beyond the table that we have?”

Amelia frowned. “No, I did not know. Should we believe it?”

“We must believe it. He called on them and they complied.”

“I am most perplexed.”

Deborah felt such a sinking disappointment inside her. Amelia seemed to know very little indeed for one who was supposed to be so versed in magical knowledge. How was she to learn if every teacher she turned to failed her?

“I must go,” Deborah said, getting quickly to her feet. “I have just remembered I am expected home.”

“Come back tomorrow with the key,” Amelia said. “I should very much like to see it and try it for myself.”

Deborah smiled weakly. “I shall do my best.”

She walked home by a long route, giving herself time to think things through. Once, knowledge had seemed such an admirable goal, but all she saw around her at the moment were problems. Mary and Anne barely speaking to her; Betty terrified; Amelia unable to answer her questions; Father no longer worthy of her veneration. Was this the lesson she was destined to learn? That people were horribly, horribly fallible and there was no security to be had at any port?

Perhaps it was time to be done with this magic. What could she do with it anyway, but command demons to do little things: open doors and find lost objects. Not healing, or protecting, or providing joy. Not changing the world enough for her to be allowed to travel alone on the continent, or study medicine. It all seemed so petty, somehow. For an activity that was supposedly of the highest spiritual importance, it reduced too easily to satisfying conceit or pecuniary interest.

With heavy feet she turned into Artillery Walk. Betty was home alone.

“Liza has taken your sisters to the markets. We are preparing a great feast for when your father returns. I have invited some of his friends.”

Her sisters were not home. A good opportunity, she supposed, to turn her scrying mirror on Lazodeus.

“I shall look forward to his return,” she said, and scooped some water from the bucket near the fire into a deep wooden trencher. Betty seemed about to ask what the water was for, but stopped herself. “I am going up to my room,” Deborah said. “I shall be down for supper.”

Safely in her closet, she closed the door. She lit a candle and it sputtered in the stuffy darkness. From her trunk, she pulled the scrying mirror out of hiding and
laid it in the bowl. The water closed over it. Her own reflection, distorted through the water, looked back at her. Was she sure she wanted to do this?

Yes, absolutely. Her sisters were in too far with the fallen angel.

She positioned the bowl between her knees on the bed and passed her hand over it. “Show me Lazodeus,” she said softly. Steam began to rise from the water, and she was puzzled. Amelia hadn’t mentioned —

Suddenly, a blinding beam of light shot up from the mirror. She shrieked and put her hand in front of her face to protect her eyes. A burning sensation drilled into the palm of her hand, where the beam met her skin. What on earth was happening?

Of course. He was an angel, and he had only appeared to her in mortal form. The mirror was reflecting back his true appearance. She quickly said, “Show me Lazodeus in his mortal form.”

The blinding light instantly disappeared. She checked her hand, and saw a red welt of scorched skin. She brought her palm to her mouth and sucked the wound to take the sting away. Through the water, in the mirror, she saw Lazodeus’s familiar form.

He was not wearing his dark layers of beautiful clothes. Rather, he was clothed in a plain white robe, and appeared much more angelic, even vulnerable. He sat on an elaborately carved stone seat on a street she did not recognise. It seemed too dark, and a faint warm glow reflected on the dark stone walls and gleaming cobbles.

She drew a quick breath. Perhaps he wasn’t in London. Perhaps he was in Pandemonium.

“Let me hear him,” she said. But he was not speaking, merely sitting as though he were waiting for someone or something. She watched for half an hour while he sat unmoving, then grew bored and sat back
on her bed. She idled with the demon key, flipping it over and over on its chain. Just as she was considering going downstairs to help Betty, she heard noise from the scrying mirror. She sat up and peered into the water. Lazodeus had stood, and a great elaborate iron door was opening in front of him. The door was carved with similar gargoyles and looping designs as the scrying mirror. A disembodied female voice said, “Come in, Lazodeus. His Majesty is ready to see you now.”