Angel of Ruin (33 page)

“I suppose you love him. I suppose, like Mary, you have lost your silly heart to him.”

Anne released Deborah’s shoulders and flung her hands in the air. “Do not speak about love, thus, as though it were a trifle. And do not compare me to Mary. She is fickle, I am constant, and I am the one the angel loves.”

Deborah shook her head. “No, Annie, no. He has not said he loves you, surely?”

“Yes, he has, though I shall beat you if you mention it to Mary.”

“He says it to manipulate you. He says it so that he may make you do things which are not in your nature to do.”

“How dare you suggest it? Are you so jealous that finally somebody loves me? Loves me enough to help me walk and talk, when everyone else has only jeers and scorn for me?”

“But, Anne, already he persuaded you to harm the exorcist —”

“Who was trying to kill my angel!” Anne cried. “Do you not see?”

“Do
you
not see? For I have seen, I have seen something which terrifies me and …” She trailed off. Perhaps this was the wrong way to tell Anne about Lazodeus and the meeting with Lucifer she had
witnessed. Not in anger. Not in a fight. Anne would hold it against her, refuse to believe her.

“What, what are you about to say?”

“Anne, do not trust him.”

“It is you I no longer trust, Deborah.”

“I have seen things …”

“Then tell me what things you have seen.”

Deborah took a deep breath. She could not let this love between her sister and the angel develop any further. “Lazodeus gave me a scrying mirror, long ago. ’Twas his attempt to win my favour. I have lately learned how to turn it upon him. While watching him —”

“You have spied on Lazodeus?” Anne had drained of colour, and Deborah felt a fear grip her heart. What was her sister afraid Deborah had seen? How far had she taken the expression of her love with the angel?

“Why does it bother you so?”

“Because … because …”

“Are you in so deep, Anne, that you wish me not to see you with him?”

“It is private.”

“I have not spied on you,” Deborah said evenly.

“Then what have you seen which makes you so vexed?”

Deborah quickly explained the scene she had witnessed, all the while feeling her heart sink. For Anne shook her head rapidly throughout the whole story.

“No, Deborah, you lie.”

“I do not lie.”

“Then you are mistaken.” Anne’s expression clearly said that she still believed Deborah lied.

“Anne, what cause would I have to fabricate this story?”

“I know not. Jealousy, mischief, revenge.”

“Revenge? For what?”

“I know not, Deborah. All I know is that I no longer trust you. You told neither Mary nor me about your demon key, you learn secret arts from somewhere and keep it all hidden from us. Your motives are a mystery.”

“I shall show you, then!” Deborah cried. Her voice was shrill with weariness and frustration. “I shall get my mirror and show you.” She knew it was madness. The possibility of Lazodeus meeting once again with Lucifer was surely nil. But if luck were on her side, she would overhear him speaking with another angel, or see him making a plan, or something which would incriminate him.

“Very well, I shall see this magic mirror,” Anne said, “but I am confident you will not prove to me his untrustworthiness.”

Deborah hesitated. Of course, if Anne saw something she didn’t like she would simply say it was a magic trick. “Perhaps not …”

“Oh? You change your mind so quickly? Did you not think I would say yes?”

Deborah shook her head. “Wait here. I shall fetch the mirror.” While Anne waited, Deborah returned to her closet. She found the mirror and the trencher she had used previously. On her return to the bedroom, she filled the trencher from a jug on the dresser and plunged the mirror into it.

“Come here, Anne,” Deborah said, lying the trencher on the dresser.

Anne joined her. “Go on, then.”

Deborah passed her hand over the mirror. “Show me Lazodeus in mortal form.”

The picture formed and Deborah heard Anne gasp. Lazodeus sat with two other angels — neither as beautiful as him, but still far beyond the mortal notion of beauty — around a stone table. The pale, ghostly
shape of a great building rose up behind, and the dark maze-like streets sprouted in all directions around them. The place where they sat was an open area, like a market place or agora.

“Can he see us?” Anne asked.

“No, I have the mirror in water to cloak my viewing.” Deborah passed a hand over the water once more, this time her fingers were trembling. “Let me hear what he says.” They were conversing. Deborah’s breath caught in her throat; she willed him to mention his bargain to the other angels.

“… for I do not believe it is possible,” one of the angels was saying.

“I believe it is and I shall show you,” Lazodeus replied.

“When?”

“When I am not so drunk on happiness.”

Anne took a deep breath. “He is drunk on happiness, Deborah. You see? I was right.”

Deborah turned to her sister. “What do you mean? How do you know of what he speaks?” The voices continued from the bowl of water, idle chatter and boasting.

Anne smiled shyly. “He has just been with me.”

“You were at the party.”

“Indeed I was not. I was in the park. We …” She trailed off.

Deborah was horrified. “Anne, what have you done?”

Anne shook her head. “Your experiment has failed, has it not?”

“We shall listen further.” Deborah bent her head once more to the scrying mirror, but it soon became apparent that Lazodeus was merely indulging in the equivalent of mortal drunken revelry. His friends were speaking now, and he sat silent listening. They spoke of
angels with names she had never heard, they spoke of places they had visited, and nobody mentioned a word about Lazodeus’s arrangement with Lucifer.

“Deborah, I feel disloyal spying on him,” Anne said after a few minutes.

“If we wait and listen —”

“What? Listen until he says something you may construe as harmful to us?”

“But Anne, I swear to you —”

“Be careful what you swear, sister, for you may find you poison old bonds of love.” Anne looked away, arms folded in front of her chest.

“Anne, you don’t mean it. Haven’t we always been close? Haven’t I always stood by you?”

“You try my patience. With your magic mirror and your false accusations.”

“It is truth, Anne. This is an instrument of truth.”

“It is an instrument of lies, of disloyalty, of your jealousy and your will to control me.” Anne flung her hand out and upended the dish. The mirror clattered to the floor. “There, I hope your stupid mirror is broken into a million pieces.”

“It cannot break for it is magic.” Deborah picked the mirror up, realised too late that the water was no longer covering it. Lazodeus’s head jerked up, and suddenly he was looking back at her from the glass with an expression of sneering rage. She made a quick move to pass her hand over it, but before she could it exploded in a flurry of silvery shards. She shielded her face from the flying glass, and felt the sharp slivers graze her fingers and wrists.

“Magic? Unbreakable? I think not.”

“Anne, you must understand —”

“I shall call Liza to sweep up the mess. Take yourself to bed, sister, I am listening to you no more.” Anne flounced out, slamming the door behind her.

Deborah sat a few bewildered moments amongst the debris of the mirror. A little blood trickled down her wrist and on to the floor. Lazodeus had seen her spying on him. Did he suspect how much she knew?

And if he did … There could no longer be any doubt that they were enemies.

“H
ave you brought the demon key?” Amelia was eager to see her, standing at the front door with a cat cradled over her shoulder.

“Yes. But I need your help with a matter of urgency.” Deborah followed her inside. The normally tidy house was messy and smelled of cats.

“Gisela is away until Wednesday,” Amelia said in explanation.

“Oh.” Deborah had always thought that the lovely smell and inviting surfaces were something inherent about Amelia. Not so. She brushed cat hair off a cushion and sat down.

“Let me see the key.”

Deborah reluctantly pulled the chain over her head and handed it over to Amelia. If she wanted Amelia’s help against Lazodeus, she had to share the demon key’s new power.

Amelia’s fingers closed over the bar of tarnished metal. “Oh, yes. I feel it already. Leave it in my keeping for a few weeks, Deborah. I shall experiment with it and then return it to you.”

“But —”

“If not for me, you would not have it in the first place,” she snapped, laying the chain and the key
carefully on a dusty chest nearby. “And so, what help do you need?”

“I have seen the angel’s real intent. He is in contract with Lucifer to tempt my sisters into patricide.”

“Patricide! It is impossible, is it not? Your sisters are not capable of so great a crime.”

“I know not to what lengths they will go to please him. They are both in love with him.” Deborah was irritated. “And why are you not surprised to hear of his contract with Lucifer?”

“I have heard rumours of such things, but never had them confirmed. Advancement through the ranks of Principalities, Thrones and Dukes is sometimes possible if an angel can fulfil a task which Lucifer names.”

“Why did you not warn us?”

“As I said, they were rumours. I have not had confirmation until now. And I certainly did not know that these tasks could involve a trade in souls.”

“But you are not even surprised to find a fallen angel is wicked. Last time I was here you were still reassuring me about Lazodeus.”

“Perhaps you witnessed part of a larger conversation, or misunderstood what you heard.” Amelia frowned. “I cannot be expected to know everything.”

“You are reckless with knowledge.”

“And you are overly cautious.”

“It seems to be that more caution would have been a good thing in this situation.”

“Do not argue with me!” Amelia shouted, shocking Deborah into silence. “I am your mistress, you are my apprentice. Do not argue with me.”

Deborah shrunk back in her seat. Her first impulse was to apologise, but she stopped herself. Amelia should apologise. “I simply want your help. I want to protect my sisters and my father. Can you show me a spell?”

“What kind of spell?” Amelia asked.

“A spell which will turn my sisters’ minds against Lazodeus.”

“I know no such spell.”

Deborah threw her hands up in exasperation. “You know nothing!”

Amelia jumped out of her seat. “Leave immediately! I do not have to listen to your impertinence.”

“Amelia, I —”

Amelia leaned over and grabbed her by the ear, pulled her to her feet. “Go on, get out. When you are ready to give me the respect I deserve, you may return for your key and further lessons.”

“But —”

Amelia was marching her to the door, twisting her ear. “I do not want to hear an excuse, just go home and think about what you’ve done.”

“Don’t you see, this is more important than my disobedience?” Deborah pleaded. “My father’s life is in danger.”

“Oh, rubbish. Your sisters aren’t killers.”

“But he has them so in thrall —”

“I shan’t hear another word about it. Amelia Lewis is not in the habit of putting young women in danger with evil angels.”

The door swung shut behind her, and Deborah was left standing dazed on the doorstep. Her ear burned with pain. Amelia’s pride was too great to admit her shortcomings, and shortcomings there were many.

“She has my key,” Deborah said under her breath. That situation would have to be remedied very soon.

Deborah opened the door to her closet very quietly. That afternoon, she had spent two hours plotting her course down the stairs, finding which floorboards and stairs creaked, which were sound, where to place her
feet to create the minimum noise. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by Father sneaking out of the house at one in the morning. At Amelia’s place, things would be different. She would have to be quick, not quiet. But with Gisela away, she trusted she could get in, take back her demon key and escape again without being noticed.

Amelia would notice it was gone, of course, and she would guess who took it. Deborah supposed this would be the end of their relationship, and it made her sad. Even though Amelia often did not know the answers to her questions, she had at least been an ally. Perhaps she was misguided, but she wasn’t wicked. And there had been a time when Deborah had greatly admired Amelia: her vow of virginity, her steely-mindedness, her devotion to knowledge.

She watched her step as she crept to the front door. Father’s study door was closed. He would be in there sleeping, perhaps receiving new dreams from Lazodeus. She could not bear how the angel had inveigled his way into her family. She wished him out, far away from her and her sisters and her father, back to Hell where he belonged. Cautiously she opened the door and in a few moments was out on the street.

Just as she allowed herself to breathe again, a hand caught her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

She whirled around. Mary in her housecoat and bare feet.

“Nothing of your concern.”

“Yes, it is. You are my younger sister and I feel responsible for you.” Mary smiled a snide smile. “I shall have to report to Father of course.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then tell me where you are going.”

“’Tis no business of yours where I am going.”

“Then what shall I tell Father?”

Deborah drew herself up tall. “You shall not tell Father a thing.”

“Oh, I should quake for fear seeing how tall you are,” Mary said in a mock-frightened voice. “Oh, Deborah, do be kind to me.”

“Mary, go home. I do not come to bother you when you slip out to your secret room, though I am sure you behave outrageously when you are in there.”

Mary mocked Deborah, made her sound righteous and pompous. “Outrageously. Mad mad Mary behaves absolutely out
rage
ously.” She pulled open her housecoat, revealing her thin nightdress underneath. “How outrageous, I am.” This time she turned and pulled up her nightdress, exposing her buttocks to the dark street. “Look, Deborah, even my arse is outrageous.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Deborah said, pushing Mary’s nightdress down and rearranging her housecoat. “I do not want to be your adversary.”

Mary turned back to her and flicked a curl off her shoulder. “A little late for that, is it not?”

“Is it?”

“You declared yourself the enemy to my angel.”

“Your
angel? You know, do you not, that Anne considers him
her
angel withal?”

“Anne is a pinch-faced dope. Lazodeus has no interest in her beyond a sense of charity.”

Deborah pushed her lightly. “Leave me be, Mary. Go home to bed and try not to wake anybody.”

“You will not tell me where you are going?”

“No. And don’t think to follow me.”

“Why, what will you do? Put a spell on me?”

“I should never do such a thing to one of my sisters,” she said, wondering if it were true.

Mary shrugged. “I shall go back to bed, but I shall ask Lazodeus where you have been. He knows and sees everything. He knew you had the demon key.”

Deborah shook the threat off. Mary obviously did not know how easy it was to block Lazodeus’s prying eyes. “Go ahead and ask. I care not.”

Mary turned around and began to walk away. Deborah waited until her sister had disappeared back into the house before she set off once more for Amelia’s. Summer had grown ferocious this year. The usual sunny breezes and balmy warmth of July had turned to blasting winds and blazing days that clung on as though autumn had forgotten she was due. The hot streets were silent and deserted until she reached the wall. She went through Mooregate and headed down through the narrow crooked alleys towards Amelia’s. Here people were still out, lanterns were hung in windows and loud voices swelled from pubs. The houses were built so close together in some places that the upper jetties almost touched.

No lights on at Amelia’s. Deborah stood out the front for a few moments catching her breath. The clouds in the sky had parted revealing a half-moon. In the pale moonlight, the tall trees and the slender building seemed even more attenuated, throwing elongated shadows. The leaves rattled overhead.

“Go in, Deborah,” she said. “Go in and take what’s rightfully yours.” Still, it took ten deep breaths to work up the nerve. She crept to the front door. The latch was on, but it was easy enough to tilt out the window next to the door, reach her hand in and drop the latch. She edged the door open quietly. One of the cats sat in a patch of moonlight nearby, looking up at her with curious unblinking eyes. Deborah stepped around it deftly and made her way into the house.

In Amelia’s sitting room, the quiet lay very heavy over the velvets and silks. She waited a moment or two for her eyes to adjust. She didn’t want to step on a cat and wake Amelia. The demon key was just where she
had left it, on the chest under the window. She scooped it up and was nearly out of the room when she heard a groan from upstairs.

She stopped to listen. There it was again, but louder. Was Amelia sick? Deborah hesitated. She should leave; Amelia would be angry with her. But Amelia was alone. Gisela was away, and if she were sick or hurt, who would know? She could die up there, and Deborah would never forgive herself.

She hung the key around her neck and inched towards the stairs, stopping to listen. There it was again, a low groan. Deborah chewed her lip. What if Amelia were just having a nightmare? She couldn’t go barging in there, letting on that she’d broken into her house. Suddenly, Amelia let out a loud yelp. And another. She must be in pain. Deborah firmed her resolve, and stole up the staircase.

Amelia’s bedroom door stood in front of her. The groans were coming louder now. She pushed the door open a crack, Amelia’s name poised on her lips. The sight within stopped her cold.

Amelia lay naked on her bed, legs and arms splayed in every direction. Three scaly red creatures, distant cousins to the creatures Deborah had seen squashed against each other in her walls, were arranged around her: two suckling at her breasts, the third shoving its unnaturally large member in and out of her quim. It took Deborah a moment to realise what was happening.

Pleasure, not pain. Her groans were sighs of sexual appreciation.

She backed out quickly. None of them had seen her, being so intent on their congress. Deborah felt a sick, heavy disappointment. So Amelia bragged of never having made love to a man? A mere elision of the truth. For she made love instead to demons. Not caring about the noise she made any more, Deborah ran
down the stairs and out of the house into the moonlight.

She headed back home through cramped streets. Father had disappointed her. Anne and Mary had disappointed her. Amelia had disappointed her. They had let her down, all of them. She felt very young, very innocent, and very alone.

Her hand went idly to the demon key and she thought about its angelic charge. Did it matter that she knew nothing about love and sex and the congress of man and woman? For she knew about greater things well enough. Loyalty, duty, family. The key was a tool for magic — petty magic. For trifles and baubles and the fulfilment of vanity. But she could use it differently surely. She could find a way to protect her sisters and her father.

She hurried home. Amelia’s amoral recklessness was not for her. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

Perspiration ran over her stomach and between her breasts, her hair flew in every direction, and her feet were starting to pinch in her shoes, but Anne kept running.

“Aren’t you tired of it yet?” This was Lazodeus, leaning against a tree watching her, a smile playing on his lips.

“No, I shall never tire of it!” Anne cried, and took off once more for a loop around the field, her arms outstretched, laughing. It was mid-afternoon, summery and gusty. A couple cut across the field, but if they thought oddly of the girl running round in circles, or the handsome man who waited for her under the tree, they gave no indication.

Finally, he caught her in his arms. “Come now, Anne. Have you called me just to watch you run?”

Breathless, she laughed. “Yes, for I love it so much I had to share it with you.”

He smoothed her hair down. “It is delightful. You delight me.”

“I love you,” she said, and pressed her lips against his, not caring if someone saw them.

“Sh, sh,” Lazodeus said, pulling away. “We must be more careful than that.”

“But I don’t care who knows.”

“We have to care, Anne. For our love is forbidden.”

Chastened, she took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

He took her wrist and pulled her to him. “Come, let’s go further into the hedge where no one will see us. And I shall cloak us with invisibility so we may do as we please.”

How beautiful, how reckless and delicious to make love in the open, with dappled sunshine on her bare skin, as all those delectable feelings ran through her body. She had wondered on three or four occasions if their lovemaking was wrong. But how could it be wrong? It felt like the most natural thing in the world. And they were in love, Lazodeus would probably soon find a way to marry her so they could be together forever.

She frowned.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I was just thinking about how I’d like to be with you all the time.”

“I’d like to be with you all the time too.”

“Then why do you sometimes not come when I call?”

“Because I am busy.”

Anne thought about the vision of Lazodeus with his peers, talking and joking. She couldn’t bear that he had a whole life without her. “What will happen to us?” she said, not checking the mournful tone of her voice.