Two

  “Raphael, I’d like you to meet Archangel Sariel, the Angel of Justice,” Archangel Micheal said after I stepped into his office the following morning.

  I shook hands with the other angel, a strikingly handsome man with golden robes, blond, shoulder-length hair, and blue eyes. Of course, all angels were either ridiculously handsome or stunningly beautiful, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. I was particularly proud of my own black and curly hair that always seemed to have just the right amount of wildness about it. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” I said. His handshake was firm and confident, of course.

  “And you as well,” Sariel replied. “I’ve heard good things about the work you do, especially with veterans. They are so often forgotten, even here.”

  “It’s not just me, sir. Without my team, I could never keep it up. They’re the ones who make it happen.”

  “Humble too, I see.” He smiled and looked over at Michael. “Watch him. This one’s archangel material, I think.”

  “We are,” Micheal replied, taking a seat at his desk. Sariel and I sat opposite him. “It would be the first time a human-born angel was given the honor.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “This is news to me.”

  “The Angel of Healing has always been an archangel,” Micheal said. “It wouldn’t do to break that tradition. But there’s time enough yet for that. We’ll give it a hundred more years or so and see how you’re doing then.”

  “Right,” I said, losing some of the thrill. “Eternal timeline and all.”

  Micheal laughed. “You’re still young. You’ll get used to it eventually. But we have other matters to discuss today.”

  “Yes,” Sariel said, taking on a more serious demeanor. “A grievous miscarriage of justice must finally be rectified. That poor girl has been ignored and forgotten for far too long.”

  “Believe me, Sariel, she has been neither forgotten nor ignored. But I agree. It is high time she comes home.” Micheal turned to me. “ I like your idea, and that’s why Sariel is here today. I think he can help.”

  “Piggy-backing with an archdemon that’s returning to the Soul Divide is the best way to get there undetected,” Sariel said. “That’s good thinking, but it’s far easier said than done. Most archdemons would, of course, never agree to such a thing, and that’s just the first in a long list of potential problems and complications with such a plan.”

  “I’m guessing you have some ideas about that?” I asked.

  “We’ve been watching one particular archdemon very closely as of late,” Sariel said, pulling a file from a bag next to his chair and placing it on Michael’s desk. “Hestes – known on Earth as Richard Marchbanks.” Sariel opened the file, revealing a photo of a middle-aged man with horn-rimmed glasses and a striped polo shirt.

  “That’s an archdemon?” I asked, incredulous. The man looked like he should have been driving carpool for the local Little League team.

  “You don’t run into archdemons often on your missions, Raph, but you should remember that looks are almost always deceiving,” Micheal said. “Unlike run-of-the-mill demons, they can change their appearance, just like we can.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, taking the photo and committing Hestes’s face to memory. “Knowing it and knowing it are two different things though.”

  “You’ll get better with practice. Like I said, you’re young still.”

  “So what’s ‘Richard’ have to do with all this?” I asked, returning the photo to the file.

  Sariel spoke up. “He’s a refugee who fled to Earth about twenty-five years ago, just before Nicole took out the lord of his domain – Tauriel. Anyway, Hestes gave us a lot of good intel and brought us up to speed on the situation in the Soul Divide, so we let him stay as long as he promised to play by the rules and toe the line. He managed to do alright for a while, but he’s been a bit squirrely lately, dropping off our radar every once in a while before turning back up again a few days later, so we started watching him closer. His day job is programming software for one of the big tech companies, but we’re worried that he’s started moonlighting as a neural drug designer.”

  “I hate those things,” I said, instantly despising ‘Richard’. Neural stimulants were rapidly replacing chemical drugs as the newest addiction. They left almost no markers, making them incredibly difficult to track. They could be bought online – most often with hard-to-trace variants of cryptocurrency – and delivered directly through the user’s neural VR interface. The drugs stimulated certain parts of the brain, producing any number of natural – and unnatural – physiological responses. Addiction was very, very easy, and the side effects were more often mental than physical, making treatment particularly difficult. Some cases resulted in the patients' slipping into a coma or a semi-conscious vegetative state. Many of my team’s hardest missions lately had been helping families devastated by these things.

  “Hestes never told us what his job in the Divide was,” Sariel continued as I began leafing through the file. “Intel we’ve gathered from other sources suggest he may have been involved in a project Tauriel was working on, trying to duplicate Nergal’s success transforming human souls into demons. If that’s true, then his foray into neural drugs is deeply concerning.”

  I nodded in understanding. “If he could find a way to cause humans to slip into comas reliably, then the supply of souls in the Divide would increase dramatically. But the drugs would need to be subtle, or they’d gain too much attention, and people would start avoiding them.”

  “Which is why we’re shutting him down. I’ve got an agent watching him, another human-born like you. Her name’s Raquel. She’s the FBI agent in charge of the anti-neural drug operations in San Francisco. She used to be a cop in that town when she was alive, so she knows it well. I’ve briefed her, and she’s expecting you. When you arrive on Earth, contact her, and the two of you can take it from there. Stop Hestes, but learn as much as you can about what he’s doing first. We need to know who he’s cooking for. Once you wring him dry for information, give him the choice between giving you a ride to the Divide or a one-way ticket back to Hell. He’s pretty cowardly, so I think he’ll take the first option.”

  “Now that we have an idea of how you’ll get to the Divide,” Micheal said, “we need to discuss what you’ll be doing once you’re there.”

  “Rescuing Nicole,” I said firmly.

  “And gathering intel,” added Micheal, tapping his desk with a finger. “Don’t forget, we need to know for certain if Aamon is using human souls to supplement his forces.”

  “And how he’s doing it if he is, right?”

  “Precisely. It’s a tall job, especially for an inexperienced field agent such as yourself. Are you sure you’re still up for it?”

  “If it means rescuing my sister, then I’d storm the gates of Hell with nothing but a spoon.”

  “I hate to bring up another issue,” Sariel cut in, “but do we know for sure how Aamon is keeping Nicole captive? Logic and intel both suggest a contractual binding. But what are the terms of that contract, and can it be broken?”

  “He’s right,” Micheal said, furrowing his brow. “Your first step, Raph, will most likely need to be obtaining a copy of the contract. Or, failing that, getting reliable information on its contents so that you can learn how to cut the bonds tying her to the Divide and Aamon. There’s a strong possibility that the only way to do that is by killing Aamon, and that’s not a task I believe you’re up to just yet.”

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  “I helped Nicole take out Nergal, remember?”

  “And all it cost was your life.”

  “I’m a little bit tougher now,” I said. “And more immortal.”

  “Immortal, yes,” Micheal said. “But there’s still consequences if you sustain what would normally be fatal wounds. For one, you’d wind up back here, in Heaven. For another, you’d be stuck incubating in the Celestial Halls for a few years while your heavenly body regrows, and it would be several more years after that before you are back to the same level you are now. Even though you wouldn’t be permanently out of the game, the mission would be a scrub, and it would be a while before you got back to it. You need to be careful.”

  “I will be,” I promised. “I know I can’t take on a demon lord.” Though, if I was being honest with myself, it stung a bit that my sister could. “Hey,” I said, a sudden thought occurring to me. “What about backup? If I get in a pinch, can I expect any help?”

  “You’re on your own, I’m afraid. It’s risky enough sneaking one angel into the Divide. If things go sideways, you can always teleport yourself back here, but the gig would be up. They’d know someone had been there. We’d prefer if you found another way out, but if worst comes to worst, do it.”

  “What about agent Raquel? Can I take her with me? Hestes should be able to transport two of us as easily as one, right?”

  Micheal looked at Sariel and raised a questioning eyebrow. Sariel shook his head regretfully. “Sorry, Raphael. I need her on Earth. She’s deeply entrenched in her cover and has more going on than just the one investigation. As important as your mission is, it’s not the only log we have on the fire.”

  “It’s ok, I get it,” I said, though the possibility of having at least one ally with me had been a comforting thought.

  “That pretty much covers everything, I think,” Micheal said, closing the file and handing it back to Sariel. “You ready to go, Raph?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve set my bow up to be summonable like my sword, and I’ll grab the material things I need when I get to Earth.”

  “Very good.” He stood, and Sariel and I followed. “Be careful,” said Michael. “I know you’re eager to rescue your sister, and we’re eager to have her here where she belongs, but be careful. This mission could turn very dangerous very quickly. Don’t hesitate to retreat if you need to.”

  “I won’t,” I said, though in truth, I had no intention of returning unless Nicole was with me. I shook hands with Michael and Sariel, then turned to leave. Sariel placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me at the door.

  “Raphael,” he said, his eyes grave. “We all want you to bring Nicole back. But if the binding is as complete as I fear it is and Aamon orders her to attack you — you need to understand, she MUST obey him. Are you ready to face that possibility? Are you willing to put her in such a position? These are things you need to consider. There’s no shame in letting someone else take this mission.”

  I looked at him and smiled, though his words cut me to the core. “You know,” I said, turning back to the two archangels. “My parents cried when I told them where I was going. They say there’s no tears in Heaven, but one thing I’ve learned as the Angel of Healing is that not all tears are evil.” And with that, I turned and left.

  A good, scalding hot bath was the closest thing to Heaven that Nicole would ever experience. Unfortunately, even the hottest baths grew cold eventually. Nicole sighed as she stepped out of the tub and pulled on her bathrobe. She settled onto the plush couch set in the center of her tent and fanned her wings out behind her to dry, cupping a steaming mug of tea in her hands. It had been a long few days since her victory over Beloth – filled with inspections, supply reports, accepting declarations of fealty on Aamon’s behalf, and executions for those who refused. Duke Valefor was busy running the remnants of Beloth’s former army through the paces, ensuring they were up to Aamon’s standards. Fifty-thousand troops was a lot, so it was keeping him plenty busy, which was fine with Nicole. It meant that she didn’t have to deal with him much. As she sipped her tea, she absently waved her wings through the air to help them dry faster. Some feathers fell, as often happened after bathing. One in particular caught her eye, and she frowned, setting the mug of tea down and picking it up. She furrowed her brows, studying the jet black feather as she twisted it back and forth in her fingers. She’d been finding more and more of these lately.

  “How long until they’re all black, do you think?” Mastemat asked.

  “That’s not helping,” Nicole thought back.

  “I’m just saying that it will happen eventually.”

  “I’m not a fallen angel. I’m a slave doing my master’s bidding.”

  “But you do like killing demons. I’m in your head, kid. You can’t hide your feelings from me. Every time one dissolves away, you imagine the day it will be Aamon.”

  She was saved from responding by a call at the tent door. “What is it?” she asked, sitting up straight and adopting a stern expression. The flap pulled back, and a witch stepped in, accompanied by a shade.

  “Pardon the interruption, my Lady,” the witch said. “Lord Aamon wishes to speak with you.”

  Nicole’s breath caught in her throat. One of the biggest advantages of running Aamon’s campaigns was that she rarely had to speak with him directly. “Very well,” she said, preparing herself mentally. “Leave us,” she told the shade. “Make sure we are not disturbed.”

  “My Lady,” the shade said with its wispy, distant voice. It bowed and turned, passing back through the fabric wall of the tent. Nicole stood and tightened her bathrobe, wishing she was wearing her full set of robes. Talking with Aamon always left her feeling exposed.

  “I’m ready,” she told the witch. “Begin.”

  “Yes, my Lady,” the witch said. She closed her eyes and began murmuring the arcane words that Nicole had heard a thousand times before. She couldn’t understand them — didn’t want to understand them — but they always sent chills up her back and ruffled her feathers. It took all her willpower not to summon her sword and end the vile creature’s existence right then and there.

  After a few more moments of muttering, the witch suddenly arched her back and sucked in a deep breath of air, opening her eyes wide. They rolled back in her head until only the whites showed, and her expression changed. She looked around, taking in the room with eyes still rolled back. Her gaze settled on Nicole, and the witch smiled. “There’s my little Mastemat,” the witch said in Aamon’s voice.

  Nicole bowed and looked at the floor. “Master Aamon,” she said. “I was planning on sending a report tomorrow morning. We should be ready to return as soon as Valefor is done preparing Beloth’s old troops.”

  “I have heard about the greeting you gave Duke Valefor,” Aamon said, looking down at her with an expression Nicole couldn’t place, particularly since it was on the witch’s face instead of his. “We will talk about that later. But first, I’m informing you that you will not be returning. I’m sending you to Tauriel’s old territory. The archdemon Mammon seems to think it belongs to him now. I need you to relieve him of such delusions.”

  Relief swept through Nicole. She had not been looking forward to returning to Aamon’s territory. Every minute she spent away from him was a blessing – if such things as blessings could exist in this place. “Don't get too excited,” Mastemat warned. “There’s gotta be a catch.”

  “Of course, Master,” Nicole said, trying to ignore Mastemat’s voice. “Shall I relieve him of his head as well, or would you prefer the honor yourself?”

  “You may dispose of him as you see fit. Such vermin is hardly worth bothering myself with, and I know how much you enjoy murdering demons. Speaking of which, I approve of your new look. Grey wings are so much more flattering on you than white.”

  “Is that all, Master?” Nicole said, fighting to control her breathing. He always seemed to know how to cut right to her heart. “The days have been long, and I’m tired.”

  “We will finish when I decide it’s time. Duke Valefor was correct – no matter how much honor I bestow upon you, you are still nothing more than my slave. You would do well to remember that, Malicious One. What I have given you, I can also take.”

  “I forget nothing, Master,” Nicole replied, her ears buzzing from barely contained hatred. “As I said, I am tired. I spoke poorly.”

  Aamon studied her through the witches’ eyes. “I am sending someone to you,” he said after a few moments of scrutiny. “You know of him — though you two have never met. It is Keres, my head researcher.”

  “And there it is,” Mastemat thought.

  “Why him?” Nicole asked, disgust replacing her hatred.

  “You are to supplement your troops with Beloth’s humans. I do not wish to waste time sending them here for the transformation. Keres will see it done. And you will assist him.”

  Those last words were like daggers in Nicole’s heart, and she found herself thrust to the back of her own mind. Since her brother’s death, dealing with human souls had become nearly impossible for her. She heard Mastemat replying, “Yes, Master. As you command.”

  “Ensure the prisoners are ready. Keres should arrive tomorrow. I want the new imps outfitted and ready by the end of the week. And one more thing – I know you well, Malicious One. You will hate Keres, but you are not to kill him, and you will assist him with anything he needs. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly, Master,” Mastemat said.

  “Good,” Aamon said, smiling. “That is all. Sleep well, my little Destroyer.” With that, the witch’s eyes and face returned to their normal level of hideousness.

  “You may leave,” Mastemat told the witch, who was composing herself in the aftermath of the possession. She would have no knowledge of what had been said during the conversation. “Send the shade back in, I have messages for it to relay.”

  “My Lady,” the witch replied, bowing and backing away, still breathing heavily.

  “Can’t even get through one conversation without my help,” Mastemat thought, crossing the tent and pulling a set of fresh robes from her chest. “You really are weak, you know? Well, enjoy your little break. I’ve got some prisoners to prepare.”

  Nicole didn’t respond. She just hoped that she’d be able to sleep through what was coming.