Sons of Angels (30 page)

Azazel rose and crossed to the window, motioning Gillian to join him. “Tell me what you see.”

Gillian gazed out onto the London cityscape. “Regent’s Park leading out to the city and Canary Wharf in the background. Why?”

Azazel put his hand on her shoulder. “The nephilim are my people. Much as I love them, if God were to discover their presence he would send another flood. Everything you can see would be destroyed. Even the South Bank with its tallest tower in Britain would be submerged in water for forty days. My people would be destroyed again.” He returned to his seat, leaving Gillian to wonder whether to return to her own or remain standing. “I love this little world and my people love it too. That’s why we try so hard to fit in with the mortals by restricting the size and habits of the nephilim. I can see the point of view of the angels perpetrating these murders. They probably like the earth as it is as well.”

“You’re on their side?” Gillian was surprised. “A duke of Hell siding with the angels against his own people? What does this have to do with us?”

Azazel said nothing for a moment, sipping the remains of his tea. He drained the liquid and upturned the bowl on the saucer, turned it three times then righted it. “What do you see in the leaves?”

Gillian snorted. “Is this really the time for parlor games? All I see is wet tea leaves.”

The fallen one laughed. “You are truly the pragmatist, Ms. Du Point, despite every wonder you’ve been shown. It doesn’t matter what the tea-leaves say. We make our own futures here. I merely said I could understand the angels, not that I was on their side. For the nephilim to survive, we must adapt even further. Still visible to the eyes of Heaven in their pure form, they must breed further with the mortals to remain unnoticed. It is easy to kill the son for the father’s crimes, but what if the son were more human than nephilim? Would they kill a mortal because his grandfather was a nephilim? His great-grandfather?”

Gillian shook her head. “How could I answer that? I would like to say no. Isn’t God the one with the compassion?”

“That’s a case of good press if ever I heard it.” Azazel chuckled. “Who threw his precious mortals out of Eden? Who threw his angels from Heaven when they disagreed with him? Who invented Hell?”

“God, of course.” Gillian sighed. “I would still like to stop the killing.”

“As would I.” Azazel smiled. “God once made a promise that he would never again flood the Earth. Do you remember?”

The vampire nodded. “The rainbow, yes, or so the story goes. I haven’t seen one for many years.”

“Quite, though he may yet break his promise. The polar icecaps are melting in a staggering rate. Puriel has managed to destroy nine hundred and thirty seven of the three thousand, two hundred and twelve nephilim on the Earth. I cannot afford to lose more.”

Gillian narrowed her eyes. “How are we supposed to stop an angel bent on genocide?”

Azazel held up his hands. “You must give them what they’re looking for.”

“A giant?” Gillian frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Not just a giant. You must give them a dragon. Only then will they leave, confident they have averted the disaster they foresaw.”

“I cede the point, but where would we get a dragon from, let alone convince the Brothers Grimm it was the one they were looking for? I’m assuming
papier-mache
won’t do the trick.”

Azazel laughed. “No, but I can arrange for you to come into possession of a newborn. You should be able to handle that.”

“Good.” Gillian smiled for the first time. “Will they leave us alone then?”

“I can’t promise, but there’s a good chance. If not...” He shrugged. “We’ll think of something else.”

“Very well.” Gillian stood and bowed.

“You’ll owe me.”

Gillian paused. She nodded with her back still turned to the demon, then pulled open the doors. A pair of mortals armed with automatic rifles led her out of the building into the night.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cold, clear air–a welcome relief after the close, cloying atmosphere of the demon’s chambers. She walked the drive to the gate and turned left to cross Regent’s Park and travel home.

She sped up, leaving the park only seconds later. If she chose to run all the way, she would reach home in perhaps forty minutes, though she intended to stop for a snack on the way back. One had to keep one’s energy reserves up when running long distance.

Chapter 34

Felicia had a girlfriend when she left college who’d been an avid fan of soldier movies; everything from
The Dirty Dozen
and
Where Eagles Dare
to the modern
Special Force One
and
Heroes
. In every one of them, there was a scene where the crack commando squads were preparing their equipment for a mission. This was nothing like them.

“Had we better check, do you think?” Harold loaded an ancient revolver. “I mean, if this bint isn’t an angel, he might take exception to us barging in on him and a stripper or something.”

“A stripper?” Felicia raised an eyebrow.

“It’s possible.” Jasfoup plucked the gun out of Harold’s hand and tucked it into one of his pockets. “On the other hand, what if he is being attacked and we do nothing to stop it? How bad would we feel then?”

Harold waved a hand. “Not desperately bad because it wouldn’t be us.”

“We don’t want to lose anyone else.” Julie remained seated. “We should help.”

“I know.” Harold slammed his hand down on the table, making them jump. “We could send Devious to look through his window. If this Gary’s being attacked, he can come back and if he’s just enjoying a bit of oat sowing, he could report back later.”

“You’re disgusting at times, Harold.” Felicia stood and looked out of the window. There were no streetlights out here, but with her shift in vision she could make out the buildings of the stable yard and a cat padding across the top of her car.

“It’s an acquired skill.” He stood beside her. “What are you looking at?”

“A cat on the roof of my car.”

Harold looked out. “One of Gillian’s. They live in the mausoleum.”

“I know.” Felicia turned back to the room. “Well? Send the imp.”

“Wait.” Julie held up a hand. “We’ll learn nothing if the imp is destroyed.”

“True.” Jasfoup frowned. “If he’s not back in five minutes, we’ll send another one.”

“That’s hardly helpful.” Harold picked Devious up and put him on the table. The imp looked from one face to the next, interspersed with frequent glances at the door. “Can you attach that spell to Devious?”

Julie nodded. “As long as I have a focus. Perhaps it’ll be easier with a different species.”

“We can hope.” Harold took a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer and snipped off the tip of the imp’s claws, laughing when Devious flinched.

“What did you think I was going to cut off?”

Devious merely muttered, as Julie formed another marble-sized fetiche. “Now.” She motioned to Harold to cast the power of sight into the marble before it hardened.

“You can open your eyes now. It’s all over.”

“It is?” Devious patted himself. “I don’t feel any different.” He put a paw over one eye and then the other. “I don’t see anything different either.”

“You won’t,” said Julie. “It’s me who’s seeing through your eyes. Incidentally, Harold, you should really trim your nostril hairs.”

“Eh?” Harold rubbed his nose. “I like my nostril hair. Off you go, Devious. Find out who that woman is.”

“Don’t take too long. I’m feeling queasy already.” Julie turned to Jasfoup. “Can I have that bowl again please?”

“Sure.” The demon went to the sink. “Do you want me to wash out the last lot first? There doesn’t seem to be much point if you’re going to do it again.”

“Yes.” Felicia reached across the table to hold her sister’s hand.

Julie squeezed back. “Thanks. I’m going through a pipe.”

“Imp tunnels.” Jasfoup ran the tap. “That’s normal. There should be a hub soon.”

“Yes.” Julie closed her eyes. “Everything is very bright. There are...oh my God...thousands of these pipes, some of them blocked up.”

“Places that are no longer viable,” said Jasfoup. “Buildings that no longer exist, islands that have sunk, that sort of thing.”

“I’m going into another tunnel.” Julie swayed. “There are lots of twists and turns and I’m running past them. The tunnel walls are transparent. I can see a street...lights...a front door. I’ve stopped and I’m opening part of the wall. It’s like a patio window.”

“Gary’s house.” Jasfoup passed her the bowl. “He’s not very fast, is he?”

“Its seven miles away.” Harold’s fingers wagged as he calculated. “That’s the equivalent of eight hundred miles an hour.”

“Meh.” Jasfoup made a point of looking bored. “Slow.”

“Go on, Jules.” Felicia squeezed her hand again.

“I’m in a living room. The television’s on. I’ve stopped. I’m watching a cartoon with yellow people in it. The big yellow man is eating a sausage...and another one...” She paused. “I’m seeing color. I haven’t seen color since
before
.”

Jasfoup hissed. “Get on with it, Devious.”

“At least the house hasn’t burned down. It’s probably not the angel then.”

“That’s a relief.” Jasfoup grinned. “Find the stripper, Devious.”

“I’m moving again.” Julie swayed. “I feel sick. Why do people buy green sofas?”

“Somebody has to. Perhaps it makes them feel virtuous.”

“I’m entering the kitchen. There’s a fridge here. I’m opening it. There’s some milk and a block of cheese. I’m eating the cheese.”

“Never send an imp to do something important. They’re so easily distracted.”

“I’ve eaten the cheese and drunk the milk. I’m going back into the hall. The television’s still on in the living room. I’ve passed it. Up the stairs.”

“It’s like reading comics aloud.” Harold took Gillian’s hand. “You miss half of what’s going on.”

“The first room has an office in it. I can see a computer and a desk...and a chair...climbing on the chair... There’s a packet of biscuits.”

“Take biscuits.” Harold laughed. “Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at the faces staring at him. “It feels like we’re in one of those verb-noun computer adventures.”

Felicia shook her head. “Before my time.”

“I’ve taken the biscuits and gone into the next room.” Julie opened her eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to eat anything ever again.”

Harold was still chuckling. “I want a biscuit now.”

“
Shh
!” Felicia glared at him. “Will you be serious for a minute?”

Julie spoke again. “I’ve dropped the wrapper in the bin and gone back to the corridor. There’s a bathroom to my right... Oh, I’m going in...” She went silent for a moment. “I can’t believe he eats toothpaste.”

“See?” Jasfoup thumped Harold.”I told you it wasn’t me using it all.”

“I’m leaving the bathroom and turning right. There’s a bedroom here. There’s someone in the bedroom... I’m going inside...” Julie took several deep breaths. “I can see the girl on the bed. She’s wearing a wig or something. Oh, God! She’s on fire. No. She is fire. She’s made of fire.”

“Puriel. Oh dear. Can you see if Gary Hughes is still alive?”

“I can’t actually control his movements, you know.”

“Tell him to get out before the angel sees him.” Wrack tugged on his earlobe. “He’ll be discontinued.”

“I can’t tell him anything.”

“Sorry.” Wrack began to bite his claws.

“Oh, shit...” Julie’s voice trailed off.

“What?” Felicia asked. “What’s happening?”

“There’s blood spattered up the walls and the bed is drenched with it. I used to like red. I’ve climbed up onto a chest of drawers.” Julie swayed in her chair. “I can see the bed from here. The creature hasn’t seen me. On God. I can see a body on the bed, or what used to be a body, anyway. Its skin has been removed. It looks like those pigs that used to be in Mr. Baker’s window, Fliss. I can’t see the face, thank God. The creature has got skin like coal. I don’t mean black, more like coal in a fire, the way it glows around cracks and things, only there’s fire crawling across it. You’d think the bed would catch fire.”