24. Zariel
Chapter twenty-four
Zariel
T his couldn’t be. I couldn’t be reading this. There had to be a mistake.
A god?
It was ridiculous. The High Artist would never. He could never.
But … would he try? The ritual described in the text was intense, to say the least, and wasn’t something he could do on his own. He’d need help, and a lot of it. No one would help him with something like this, to do something like this. Right?
Then again, what if he promised everyone that he’d use his new powers to right the worlds and send us home? Would that be enough to convince angels to help him? Probably. There were enough of us here who might think that being a deity was an ample reward for such a feat. Bringing the jewel of our kingdom back home? If he succeeded, there was little the High Artist could ask for that would be denied.
But the cost if he failed.
And danger if he succeeded …
I shoved the book back in horror, grabbed Cat, and rushed her from the aisle as fast as I could without drawing attention.
This couldn’t be.
It couldn’t.
But what if it was?
“In here,” I said, nudging Cat from the narrow hall and into a study alcove. I needed to tell her now—I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. I shut the door behind us quietly, guiding her to two chairs that were placed next to a round wooden table. There was nothing else in the room, which was designed to grant angels an opportunity for even more privacy and quiet, if needed. If found by anyone, I’d say that I couldn’t resist my mate, that I had to be alone with her. Easy enough. And true.
Quickly, while we had the benefit of thick walls, I explained to Cat what I had read. And what I feared.
“Seven sacrifices?” she asked. “Of actual, living creatures?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s supposed to let him become a god? ”
“If it’s in that book, that means it has been utilized somewhere, sometime, to that effect. Or someone had a very good reason to believe that it would work.”
“How could someone come up with that idea?”
“A god might have told them.”
Cat blinked. Hard. “Alright, we’ll talk more about that later. Are you sure that is the ritual he’s planning?”
“Yes. Setting aside Cael’s clue, it’s the only one that fits our situation, and the only one that could conceivably result in something as powerful as being able to send pieces of a world to a different plane.”
“And it only takes seven sacrifices? Isn’t that a little … cheap?” She rubbed her eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
I smiled grimly. “It’s more complicated than that. Each sacrifice represents a different part of the world—air, earth, water, fire, wood, metal, and spirit. Though, I should note that the elements in question may change according to the ritual, and there’s thoughts that technically metal and wood are part of earth and that spirit doesn’t belong at all, in most cases. And then there are the potential aspects of one for each direction, because under some schools of magical theory …” I continued until I noticed she had stopped listening, her eyes glazed over. Cat loved to hear about magic, but there is never a good time to be lectured about magnetic poles. “There are complicated steps that need to be taken after their deaths, to ensure that everything goes to the correct place. ”
“Ah. So that’s why he’d need help, besides the mechanics of obtaining and killing seven people.”
“Indeed.”
She looked at the wall, her mind working. “Murder aside, couldn’t this be a good thing? If he succeeds, everyone could go home.” She shook her head. “What am I saying? This would never be a good thing.”
My poor mate. She came here to learn, and instead she discovered the dark undercurrent of my people. “You’re not a bad person for wondering about the end result—everyone else involved will be, and dreaming of it. Despite the cost.” I took a deep breath. “Could his success be a good thing? Absolutely. That is, unless he makes a mistake and takes us someplace else—and what would come here in our place when we leave? Would the world even stay intact? Could he perfectly exchange the pieces of the two worlds, or even just this mountain?” I tapped my finger lightly on the table, my short nail catching on the worn wood. “He could give us everything we want, or it could destroy two worlds in the process.”
Cat slowly shook her head. “Angels are intelligent. Surely, they can’t be foolish enough to risk this.”
“I think you’re underestimating how desperate some of us are to return home,” I said gently. “And how capable the High Artist is. He didn’t get his position through connections alone.” Some angels had mates and children waiting for them back home, ones they adored. Some missed the prestige and place we had in our world, where we imagined ourselves the masters of our kingdom. And some angels, understandably, wanted to be able to leave the mountain—truly leave it—without having to contend with the humans. The mountain was massive, but after five years of confinement, it could feel stifling, especially for creatures born to fly. The space near the mountain was a poor substitute for our kingdom’s skies.
She thought about what I said for a moment, and then ventured, “Maybe we can talk him out of it. You said it yourself, the High Artist is smart.”
“Doubtful. If he’s gone far enough with this plan that Cael and others are sequestered away to work on it, then I think the time of simple suggestions is over. And for him to then suggest to the other angels who have agreed to help him that we’re returning home and then walking back that promise would be too much. He’d lose far too much support.” I shook my head. “He would never agree.”
“So what if he lost support? He’s in charge.”
“Cat, you said yourself you study politics and history. Is anything ever so simple that one man is in charge no matter what?”
“Oh,” she said. “It’s like that.”
I crossed my legs. At some point I’d have to talk to her about how angels balanced connections with competence, and that wasn’t going to be today. “Yes. This position isn’t strictly hereditary, but Cael is his son, and if he felt like it, he could assemble the support necessary to replace his father, should the need arise.”
“Why doesn’t he do that, then?”
“Other than that Cael has disappointed his father constantly by making it clear he doesn’t want the position? I’m going to guess Cael’s doubtful he could do anything about it now.” I took a deep breath. “I haven’t had a chance to discover what Cael’s thinking, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he knows it would be next to impossible to use politics to stop his father now, not when hope is being literally dangled before so many.”
“But what if we found another way?” She sat up straighter. “What if we have another way for you to go home? One that isn’t so dangerous.”
“Cat—”
“You said the elves know something. If this was done, it can be undone. It has to be. We can find a way for the angels to get what they want, and not potentially kill billions.”
I bristled. “I said the elves have records—not a guarantee that whatever happened last time would work again.”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“Cat—”
“We won’t know until we try. Zariel” —she reached across the table and gripped my hands, cupping them as they rested on the surface— “our only other option is to let the High Artist do what he wants. Do you really want to stand by and watch as he does whatever he has planned? It sounds like it includes murder, in addition to everything else. If these creatures are alive after five years here, after your supplies were so scarce before the summit, I have a feeling that he’s being creative with the sudden need for executions.”
“No,” I had to admit. “I don’t want him to even try this. You’re right—at best, he’s taking lives and justice into his own hands. Few creatures are in that prison under his order. We are just the prison, not the court.”
“Then do you have a better idea than mine?”
I shook my head, defeated. “There’s nothing. The library—”
“You’ve spent the last few years in this library. I’m doubtful you can find something else in a couple months. Or weeks. Or” —she frowned—“how much time do we have?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My guess is that Cael and the others are researching the exact time necessary to perform the ritual, considering the differences in celestial bodies here, but I don’t think we have long. Too many people know about this, and he will want to perform the ritual before anyone has a chance to change their mind. He will gamble speed against compliance.”
“For what it’s worth,” Cat said, “I don’t like this either. I came here for research and to wear angelic robes—not to interrupt cataclysmic magic rituals.”
“Cataclysmic is unfortunately a good word for what could happen. ”
We fell into silence, our attempt at dark humor fading, until Cat said, “You mentioned something earlier. Do you think it could be gods that moved the worlds? What are these gods?”
“They … I don’t know. They’re old. Rarely encountered, even in our old world. They’re more a base elemental than intelligent being. But I’m starting to suspect that the location of the pieces of the worlds are not a coincidence, and if that’s the case, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was behind it.”
“How so?”
“Well, I just happened to appear close to my mate, for one, in a planet of billions. And for another, remember how you mentioned the first day that Princeton had a landmark called Morven too?”
She crossed her arms and raised a brow. “Yes. It’s a museum.”
“Well, that could be another sign. In magic, like goes to like. So I suspect there might be more behind this than just some random splitting of the worlds.”
“Damn.” Cat let out a long breath. “You’re right—that sounds too convenient to be nothing. Then we’re agreed? We’ll send a message to the elves and ask them what they know?” She leaned forward, her eyes alight with a spark that spoke to her determination to get this done. There was no way she was going to stand by and let the High Artist act unchallenged, her clever mind already moving to the most efficient steps—and I loved her for it .
But I didn’t like this. Cat shouldn’t be involved in this. Despite my growing suspicion that there was more behind this situation with the worlds than anyone contemplated, if we were caught attempting to send messages, there’d be consequences, and Cat would likely be exiled immediately. Or worse. And who knew what would happen to me after? But she was right—what other choice did we have? The High Artist could potentially destroy the world. It was worth risking time in the prison to prevent that. Whatever the consequences were, we would manage.
“Well,” I said, “it looks like you’ll get to see the aviary, where we keep the birds.”
Cat smiled.
C at and I left the study hand in hand, giggling and flushed, doing our best to close the door silently—and failing.
It was all an act. Not that I didn’t want to take her—was counting down the hours until I could—but this lack of decorum was a ruse to get us past the guards, who were going to wonder why we were spending so long in this section of the library. And guards gossiped. Cat played her part perfectly, her hair coming loose from her braid, her smile wide with silent laughter. She could have done with a little less giggling, though. Cat wasn’t quite the giggling type. But she was the type to sneak her hands into my robes, running her fingers down my bare sides, sending my senses stirring. Was this as much of a game as we were pretending?
A sudden rush of steps stopped us.
“There you are.” The High Artist walked into the hall, alone, for once. There wasn’t another scholar or guard in sight.
The High Artist. Here?
My heart jumped into my throat and I resisted the urge to push Cat behind me.
What was going on? The High Artist beamed at Cat, who returned his friendliness, forcing her own grin. I stifled a soft growl that welled in my throat. This wasn’t the time or place.
“I’ve been looking for you,” the High Artist said.
“I apologize for the inconvenience.” I bowed. “I have attended to my duties.”
The High Artist flicked his wrist, not bothering to look at me. “Yes, yes, none of that. This is more important, or I would’ve had someone find you. How are you enjoying the mountain, my dear?”
My dear? What was going on? Gone was the angry master, livid at my having brought a human here. He was now all charm and smiles and … no. Something wasn’t right.
“It is beyond anything I could’ve imagined,” Cat replied. “Thank you so much for allowing me to stay.”
“Yes, I see that,” the High Artist said, watching how Cat and I were still holding hands. I resisted the urge to tuck her next to me, to hide her in my wings. “I’m pleased that you have found such happiness. Zariel has been too long without a mate.”
Pleased? Something definitely wasn’t right.
“Thank you.” She gave me a wide smile that showed far too many teeth. “I cannot believe how lucky I am.”
“You were searching for me, High Artist?” I asked. Cat needed to be back in my rooms and safe. Quickly.
“Yes,” he said, finally turning to me. “Are you aware that Cael has been assisting me on a project?” I nodded, trying to keep my face impassive as he continued. “Well, I wanted to see if I could count on your loyalty and assistance, when the time comes. You’re such a good friend to my son, and our families have so much history.”
My heart froze. He came here to say that ? How much did he know about what Cat and I were thinking? How much did he suspect? He wouldn’t be here to just exchange pleasantries. Or maybe he heard where we were and put the pieces together …
The High Artist raised an eyebrow, each second of delay adding mountains to the tension between us.
“Of course I will assist you,” I said. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused as to what the project is.”
“Cael said nothing?”
“Cael said plenty,” Cat said. “I’m glad to see someone who isn’t afraid to tease Zariel.” She smirked. “It’s been fun. ”
The High Artist studied her, as if he was searching for some lie. Thank goodness Cat was smart enough to continue acting like a foolish lover and not like we had discovered that the High Artist wanted to make himself one of the primal rulers of the universe. “Well,” he finally said to me, “I can assure you that when the time comes, your mate will be with you, should you desire it.”
“Of course I do,” I said.
“I’ll send word of the project soon,” the Hight Artist said. “I am glad I can count on you, Zariel. Loyalty is a precious thing these days.”
“You have it. Always.”
The High Artist smiled, every inch a benevolent mentor. “Your father would be so proud to see how much you have grown these last few years. It will be enough to push any other disappointments from his mind.” Disappointments … like my murderous sister?
“I look forward to the day that I can see him again,” I said sincerely. Yes, I looked forward to the day where I’d learn if the High Artist could explain to Father why Aniela wanted to kill him.
“As do we all.”
The High Artist left us, his steps down the ash-crusted hall more measured than they had been when they rushed towards us. Soon they faded entirely, leaving us alone in the silence .
My breaths steadied and I gripped Cat’s hand, reassuring myself that she was fine. The encounter went well. That is, well enough. Things could’ve been far worse. He didn’t tell me what the project was exactly, but he seemed content with our replies. Though … damn, that was a strange conversation.
How did he know where we were? Did one of the guards tell him? Were we being watched even closer than I thought?
He had to have known that if I found that ritual in the book, then I would’ve put the pieces together. The ritual required seven sacrifices, particular ones. And we just happened to be sitting on a veritable bank of creatures.
The angels were going to execute—sacrifice—prisoners, ones who most definitely didn’t deserve it, in the most brutal of ways. Like Cat pointed out, if the prisoners were sentenced to death, they would have been dead already, not kept alive with precious stores all these years.
A jolt shot through me.
Aniela. She was a prisoner.
The spell needed a creature of air. Angels were creatures of air. Would the High Artist kill Aniela in order to finish his greedy revenge?
Were there other angels in the prison? Yes. Most of the prisoners were angels. But as far as I knew, none of them had angered the High Artist quite like she did. Something told me that the High Artist wasn’t going to miss this chance to remove Aniela for good .
Cat readjusted her grip and gently tugged me along the hall. Silently, we moved past the guards guarding the door and into the network of tunnels.
It wasn’t until we were in the atrium and flying back to my chambers when I dared to whisper in her ear, trusting that the rushing wind would keep anyone from overhearing. “Tonight. We’re sending the message tonight.”