Azagoth: A Demonica Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (5 page)

The mattress she was going to have to share with Azagoth.

Unbidden, an image of him naked and lying next to her as that deep voice whispered raw, naughty things, made her skin flush and her breasts tingle. Was that what the angels sent here for him to service felt like when they were standing in this room?

The thought was enough to knock her halo back on straight. There would be no sex, because she was leaving.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, she opened the door to Azagoth’s office. The wall directly across from her had opened up, revealing a green-glowing cross-sectioned tunnel. A parade of demons shuffled through from left to right, each one escorted by a three-foot tall
griminion
shrouded completely in black. As she entered the room, the parade stopped, and Azagoth swung around. His expression remained neutral, but she swore his eyes darkened as he raked her with his gaze.

“Better,” he rumbled.

“Flattery isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“And taking direction isn’t yours.”

So he’d noticed the missing necklace. Tough shit. She ignored him and glanced over at the tunnel. “What’s going on?”

“These are souls of dead demons and evil humans. My
griminions
are escorting them into the lower Sheoul-gra levels known as the Inner Sanctum.”

“Where Hades lives?”

He inclined his head. “Hades keeps them contained and suitably miserable until they’re reincarnated.”

She eyed the demon souls, which appeared to be as solid as they had been when they were alive. “I’m assuming demon souls are like those of humans? Non-corporeal while on Earth and in Sheoul, but solid in Sheoul-gra and Heaven?”

“It’s exactly the same. Human and demon souls appear as ghosts on the Earthly plane, but are fully realized in Heaven and Sheoul-gra.”

If only humans understood that their bodies on Earth were shadowy versions of what they would become after they died and returned to the Heavenly plane where they’d been created. They’d be much happier, not worrying so much about defiling themselves or even injuring their bodies. Their short human lives were but a thin thread in the fabric of their true existences, a drop in the ocean of their lifespans.

Azagoth made a sweeping motion with his hand, and the wall slid closed.

“So you just sit around all day and watch souls walk through a tunnel?”

A faint smile twitched on his lips. “That’s just one of my duties. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

He took her down several winding hallways, pointing out various rooms that led to quarters for his
griminions
.

“What, exactly, are
griminions
?” She watched one of the troll-like creatures scurry through a doorway and disappear into the darkness.

“During the negotiations between Heaven and Sheoul over the creation of Sheoul-gra, it was agreed that I would be allowed to create a species of demon that could assist with the retrieval of souls.”

“And you made creepy little skittery things?”

“Not...exactly. My design used imps and gentle Huldrefox demons as a base, combined with a species of demon that can see ghosts. Satan took out the Huldrefox and threw in extra imp. Now I have a bunch of Oompa Loompas with the intelligence of doorknobs.” He shrugged as if trying to dismiss the almost undetectable fond note in his voice. “They’re loyal little guys, though.”

He kept walking, but she slowed him down several times to ogle the priceless weapons and art on his walls. He had tapestries and paintings believed lost to the ages, and weapons wielded by legends and kings. She wasn’t sure how long it took them to get to the huge antechamber she’d walked through when she’d first entered the building, but as he explained some of the demon artwork, she only half-listened as she kept her eyes peeled for his
chronoglass
.

Disappointed that it was nowhere in the room, she followed him outside, with its blackened landscape and gray sky.

He looked out at the buildings surrounding his giant manor. “You can explore those at your leisure. Most of them are empty shells.”

She eyed a pulsing vine hanging off one of the rooftops and made a note to avoid the native flora. She’d battled a lot of demons in her life, but she’d never spent enough time in Sheoul to get to know how creepy—or lethal—the vegetation was.

“Why are the buildings here, if they’re unused?” she asked him.

A shadow darkened the emerald light in his eyes before disappearing a heartbeat later. “As humans built up their cities, I added buildings to match.”

Okay, so that wasn’t really an explanation, but she got the sense that if she asked for more, he wouldn’t give it to her. “Why is everything here so...filthy?”

He dragged a fingernail down the surface of a pillar, leaving behind a thin line of white stone. “Sheoul-gra’s soul is tied to mine. As I succumb to the malevolence that seeps out of Hell, so do the buildings.”

So this was what thousands of years of demon-grade sewer leakage would do to a realm. No wonder there were angels employed full time to patch cracks between the human and demon realms. She could only wonder about the extent to which miniscule doses affected humans. But Azagoth had been exposed for thousands of years.

“When you first built this place, everything was white?”

He nodded. “And green. There used to be grass here. Trees. Flowers. Animals. Everything died over time.”

She studied his profile, looking for any hint of emotion, but his face might as well have been carved from the same stone used to erect the buildings.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It must have been hard to see the realm you created waste away like that.”

His expression hardened even more. “I made my choice.” He spun on his heel and headed back inside.

Making a mental note that his realm’s demise was a sore subject, she caught up to him as he strode inside the most amazing room yet.

It was a huge, cozy library with floor-to-ceiling shelves of books. A grand fire burned against one wall, and in front of it, a weathered leather sofa was angled so a person could lounge against the pillows and read by the light of the flames. In the center of the room was a recliner, and next to the chair was the object she’d been looking for.

She tried not to stare, but she’d never seen a double-sided version before.

“It’s a
chronoglass
,” Azagoth said, and she decided to keep the truth of what she knew close to the vest.

“It’s amazing,” she said truthfully. Framed by a gold rim, the pane of smoky mirrored glass stood at least ten feet tall and four feet wide, easily a third larger than either of the
chronoglasses
in Heaven. “Can you time travel?” Raphael had indicated that he couldn’t, but she’d rather hear it from Azagoth himself.

“No.”

“Then what do you do with it?”

“I use it to see what’s going on in the world.” In three graceful strides he moved in front of it. Instantly, the smoky color gave way to a clear view of the bustling streets of Paris.

Evidence of the recent near-apocalypse was visible in the scorch and pock marks on the sides of buildings and on the sidewalks, as well as the broken windows and twisted metal streetlamps and bike racks. But the signs of recovery were there too, in the open shop doors, speeding cars, and even a few tourists.

“But how do you choose the time period you want to see?” she asked.

“I can’t.” He reached out, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he traced a finger over a street sign. “I can only see what’s current. Only those with time travel ability can choose to see events from the past.”

“Can you at least choose the location?”

“That,” he said, “I can do.” He gestured to an odd black ball sitting on top of a stone stand. “It’s sort of a mystical remote control.”

She moved toward the ball, fascinated by this new discovery. She’d never heard of anyone using a
chronoglass
for anything but traveling through time. “How did you get all of this?”

“I made a deal with a fallen angel named Harvester. This was the first half of what she owes me.”

Harvester, daughter of Satan? Wow. Her name had become household in the last few months. As the only fallen angel in history who had not only been restored to full angel status, but who had mated the most powerful angel in existence to become stepmother to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, she was a rock star in Heaven. It was rumored that she still had to fight evil impulses, but according to most, that only made her an even better choice to be the Horsemen’s Heavenly Watcher.

She skimmed her fingers over the
chronoglass’s
shiny surface. “You do know that Harvester is a fully restored angel now, right?”

He tilted his chin in acknowledgement. “I’m aware.”

Of course he was. For being trapped in isolation, he seemed to be well connected. “Were you also aware that she’s mated to an angel named Reaver, who was recently promoted to Radiant status?”

His wry smile said he knew even more than that. “Of course. Were you aware that Reaver has an evil twin named Revenant, who was also raised to the Sheoulic equivalent of a Radiant?”

“He’s a Shadow Angel?” she asked, stunned at the news. She’d known that Revenant was the Horsemen’s evil Watcher, but she had no idea he was Reaver’s brother—or that he was so damned powerful.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s been thousands of years since either Heaven or Sheoul had seen angels of their status.” His smile turned malevolent. “Which means something big is about to happen. Just wait. It’s coming.”

At a tap on the door, they both looked up to see Zhubaal enter. “You have a visitor, my lord.”

“Show him to my office,” Azagoth said. As the fallen angel slipped away, Azagoth turned to her. “Feel free to explore my realm. No sentient being will harm you, but be wary of the plant life.”

“It would be helpful if I had powers,” she muttered.

In a surprising move that took her breath away, he was suddenly in front of her. Towering. Menacing. His aura practically dripped with a dark, magnetic energy that tugged her toward him. She actually took a teetering step forward.

His hand came up to cup her cheek in an astonishingly tender touch. Her pulse pounded in an erratic rattle through her veins, and desire spiked. How he could do that to her, she had no idea. She should have been immune to the charms of an arrogant, bossy male, given her experience with Hutriel.

Quickly, she banished her ex’s name from her mind. He wasn’t welcome here. She had enough to deal with already.

“In time, I’ll allow you some access to your powers.” His expression was still doing an imitation of the marble effigy on his desk, but his green eyes smoldered with intense heat. “But not until I’m sure you want to be here.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She sounded breathless and wanton, as if he’d been talking about sex, not getting her powers returned.
Idiot.

He dropped his hand, and she felt the loss as a sudden chill on her skin. “Not the same thing.”

No, she supposed not. “Is there any place that’s off limits to me?”

“As my mate, what’s mine is yours. You can go anywhere except the Inner Sanctum, where the souls are kept. It’s a dangerous place for anyone, especially an angel.”

“Gotcha.” Sheoul-gra’s Inner Sanctum didn’t sound like a place she’d like to see anyway. Ever.

“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go, but I’ll catch up to you soon. I think we might have a lot to talk about.”

She nodded, watched him leave, and then wondered what he’d meant by that. She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to be here.

Worst of all, she didn’t want to be attracted to him.

Sadly, it was too late.

* * * *

The cloaked, hooded figure waiting inside Azagoth’s office turned as he entered. The male angel, whose features were concealed by shadow, bowed his head in greeting.

“I hope you have some information for me, Jim Bob,” Azagoth said, using the code name he’d given the angel over a century ago when Jim Bob had agreed to be Azagoth’s spy in Heaven.

One of his spies, anyway. Azagoth had several, each useful in different ways. Some, like Jim Bob, came to him of their own free will, their reasons ranging from wanting the best for the Heavenly realm to having some secret, personal agenda. Others were unwillingly recruited thanks to intel Azagoth gained from the souls who came through Sheoul-gra. Azagoth didn’t give a shit how his spies came to him, as long as they didn’t screw him over.

Jim Bob, whose real name Azagoth didn’t know, inclined his head again. “I was able to ferret out some background on your mate.” He gathered the plain brown cloak more tightly around him, as if his jeans and German flag T-shirt would reveal his true identity. The paranoid moron.

Azagoth didn’t give a shit who the guy was in Heaven. Mighty archangel or lowly desk-jockey Seraphim, it didn’t matter. Still, Azagoth would bet his right wing that Jim Bob was a high-ranking motherfucker, maybe of the order of Virtues or Principalities. The male radiated impressive power even here, where all power but Azagoth’s was diminished.

“Lilliana is of the order of Thrones.” Jim Bob’s gravelly baritone took on a disdainful note, and the fact that he looked down on Thrones confirmed Azagoth’s suspicion that the guy was very high-level, since Thrones weren’t exactly serfs. “When she was an infant, her mother died in a time travel incident. Her father refused to take her in, and she was sent to the battle angel academy to be raised until it could be determined whether or not she possessed the time travel ability.”

Interesting. The ability to travel through time was so rare as to be almost nonexistent. “And?”

“She tested positive.” Jim Bob began to pace, his long strides carrying him across the room in a dozen steps. His heavy-ass work boots didn’t make a sound. “At the age of fifty, she was taken out of battle angel rotation and sent to Time Travel Operations, where she worked for almost four centuries. She had a clean, if unremarkable, record of service until recently, when she was punished for stealing items from the past. Shortly after that, she went AWOL and didn’t show up for work for months. No one could find her until she broke out of the
shrowd
in medieval England.”