Sacrifice (The Venus Chronicles #1)

Chapter 41

Forty-One

Eve was in another place.

The museum had gone, so far away now it may as well have been in another time, another world.

All physical sensation had ceased. Pleasure and pain, fear and longing, Lucien, her family, her job, her life - everything had gone. She was just Eve.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a space that was vast, its edges to the left and right, imperceptible in their distance. The ground beneath her bare feet was clean and white, and neither hot nor cold. It felt like death.

Am I breathing?

It was hard to tell. There was no sensation of air, no breath in her lungs, but there was energy, yes. There was something so pure that it sustained her from the inside.

She surveyed the scene. A golden throne sat on a dais in a courtyard enclosed by stone arches, through which she could see the jeweled night sky. A man, no, a god , lounged upon it, regarding her with detached interest. Quite literally radiant in simple white robes, golden hair curled down to his neck, and amber eyes scanned her from top to toe.

“Majesty,” Michaels said at Eve’s side and suddenly she realized he was there too.

She turned to look at him and saw not the unsmiling Detective Inspector, who'd plagued her every step over the last few weeks, but the shocking figure of an angel. Physically perfect, he stood tall and square-jawed, lustrously feathered white wings folded at his back.

Eve let out a little gasp at the astounding beauty of him. “Holy shit,” she said before she could stop herself.

Michaels sagged slightly and shook his head, almost imperceptibly. He didn’t look at her but kept his eyes straight ahead to address the deity on the throne.

“Shamash, God of the sun and light, lord of justice and giver of life, I am forever in your power and mercy.” Michaels bowed his head.

The god Eve now knew to be called Shamash, bent forward to lean one elbow on his knee and brushed a thoughtful finger along his top lip. He stared at Eve as if examining her soul.

Eve gaped back at him.

“You called to me, angel,” he said. “The realm of man has been quiet these centuries past.” Shamash’s eyes flickered to Michaels and back to Eve.

He stood. Taller even than Michaels, he covered the considerable ground between them in two easy strides and reached out both hands to cup Eve’s face. “Can it be?” he said in a whisper.

Eve said nothing, but Michaels cleared his throat. “I believe so, Majesty,” he said.

Shamash nodded, a slow smile forming on his lips. “Do you know who you are, child?”

Eve looked back at him. She wasn’t entirely sure about that anymore.

“We are family, you and I,” Shamash said, not waiting for her to answer. “My sister, Ishtar, I feel her essence in your being.” One hand dropped to finger the star embedded in Eve’s chest. “Yes.”

At Shamash’s touch the star glowed brilliantly white and, while Michaels flinched away, Eve found herself quite calm, observing this most peculiar of phenomena with polite interest.

“I, I’m her, I think,” she said in a faltering voice. “Ishtar reincarnated.”

Shamash laughed, a sound that was rich and rolling. “You have her essence, child. I see that, but my sister lives.” He looked at her kindly, “It is not possible to be the reincarnation of one who cannot die.”

Eve glanced at Michaels.

“But Lucien, he told me. The story of Ishtar and Elham. About how she sacrificed herself to free him from the underworld, how she traded her power to visit the earth so that he could live.”

“I am familiar with the story.”

“Then you know.”

“I know my sister visits the echo of a man she once loved four times a millennium. It is a curse with occasional happy outcomes.” He touched Eve’s cheek again. “You, for instance, although I should not say it. The Council would turn against me in a heartbeat. Your very existence is a crime.” He sighed. “But blood is thicker than water and my entertainments have grown dreary.” He patted her shoulder and returned to the throne to sit down.

Eve’s face fell into confusion. “No. Lucien is the reincarnation of Elham, and I am the reincarnation of Ishtar. That’s what it’s all been about. The planets aligned. It was my chance to set him free.” The reasoning had come to her so readily, as if it had lain on the surface of her consciousness, but now the words had been spoken she didn’t feel so certain. It was as if a filter through which she’d seen the world had been removed.

Shamash widened his eyes to emphasize his words. “My sister visits Elham’s descendant as we speak. She inhabits the body of a mortal for the duration of the transit—it is the pale imitation of a life together that she chose over Elhams eternal damnation. Looking at you, it would seem that past visits have borne a Nephilim.”

Eve squinted at him.

“My sister’s essence can pass down the female line, where the first-born is a girl. It can peter-out quickly or last for centuries.” He smiled at her, amused, “You must be third generation, perhaps fourth. It’s quite remarkable.”

“Nephilim?”

“A Demi-god. The product of a union between a god and a mortal. The talisman,” he motioned to the star embedded in Eve’s chest, “My sister would have bestowed it on the child.”

“It has been in my family for generations.”

Shamash raised his hands in a shrug. “And there we have it.”

“Grandma Aliyah was a Demi-god?” Eve shook her head at the possibility. “That would mean Granny Joan was too. And Mum!” Eve started to laugh. “My mother is the meekest, mildest person I’ve ever met. This is ridiculous.”

“The planets play their part. Without a celestial link, connections fade. Mortals don’t expect to have power and, for most, it would never come to fruition without intervention. A brush with death, for instance, can be a trigger. The underworld will take any chance it can to claim a Nephilim for their own. As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, the transit of Venus across the sun brings my sister’s descendants to their full potential. Right now, you shine like a beacon.”

“When the stars align.” Eve drifted off into her thoughts and remembered Lucien saying the words.

Michaels drew himself up to speak. “If I might help explain, Majesty?”

Shamash waved him on.

“Lucien first saw you when you tried to kill yourself. Once drawn to you, he spotted more in your aura than he ever could have dreamed. The distant echo of a god. He protected his find with a shield so that I couldn’t see you too. Lucien knew that I never would have allowed him to keep you close if I’d known what you are. He’s been planning to use you from the start.”

Eve shook her head. It couldn’t be right. “Lucien loves me. We are lovers through time.” The words were quiet and automatic, although now she did not feel so certain.

“Lucien has used you as a tool to set himself free. He is a reaver, Eve, a fallen angel in my dominion. He has used you. Lucien is a virtuoso of lies, a confidence trickster, a master of glamours and deception. Think about what you know. Remember what you’ve seen.”

Flashes of memory came and went in Eve’s mind’s eye. The shop assistant in Tiffany brought to confused tears, blood dripping from his nose; Lucien’s rage when she’d accidentally activated the demon bowl and pinned the porter to the floor; his delight at obtaining the Venus blade from Madam Laveau.

The Hellfire Club had been a trip on its own. Never in her wildest dreams would she have allowed anyone to lift her dress to finger her in the middle of a packed dance floor. She remembered him fucking her over his car, and the adrenalin spiked fear as he’d held her down; the sensation of carving the rune into his chest as she sat astride him, wild and powerful, aching for his cock. The sex they’d had was like a fever dream. She’d become someone she didn’t recognize.

Lucien had changed her, taken over her waking hours with an obsession for him. She’d been consumed with desire and at the last he’d sucked the life force from her to leave her dying.

The truth was crushing.

“I don’t understand. Why is Lucien being held captive? Who the fuck are you?”

“I am the Archangel Michael, Overseer of the Third Dominion and Sentinel of the Celestial Council. I am Protector of the Meek and Just and Warden of the Damned.”

Eve raised an eyebrow at him. “You forgot a Detective in the Met.”

Michaels had the good grace to allow a sheepish smile.

Eve squeezed her eyes tight shut for a moment. She didn’t need any more input. “I just don’t understand how this all started.”

“He plucked you from the river and discovered what you were. Lucky chance or fated to find you? I don’t know. My gut says his first intention was to abuse you for the night and discard your body in the morning, as dead as you would have been had he not intervened.”

“It wasn’t like that. He didn’t kill me. He barely touched me.” That wasn’t strictly true. Eve remembered the tingling lines he’d drown over her skin.

“Physical pleasure has always been his weakness and his weapon,” Michaels confirmed, as if reading her thoughts.

Eve’s mind ran over what she could remember of that night. Their naked bodies pressed together. The energy pulsing from his fingertips to warm her. The energy. She’d felt that sensation again and again in their time together. She’d come to recognize it as the flow of magic, of power. Lucien had drawn symbols on her skin that night to hide her for his own gain, rather than her protection.

“The story of Ishtar and Elham is one we all know. Lucien particularly has always identified with it, given his own sorry story.”

“Which is what?”

Michaels sighed. “He is a fallen angel, Eve. Punished by the Council for crimes against the celestial command. Lucien was cast down to earth for the same crime as Ishtar. He fell in love with a mortal and created a child in their union.”

Shamash drummed his fingers on his throne. “Not even the gods are permitted. A lowly angel would be lucky to escape with their life for such an act.”

Eve screwed up her face. “But didn’t you say that I-”

“Yes, yes. But you’re family.” Shamash waved her objection away.

It was clear what was good for the gods didn’t translate to the angels.

“The council does not negotiate with angels,” Michaels confirmed. “There is no free will. Lucien’s lover was cast into the underworld, the child destroyed. Lucien was banished to earth to purge demons from the worst of mankind for eternity. Such is his fate. It is mine to ensure that he does it.”

Eve blinked hard at him, processing what she’d heard.

“So, his crime is love,” she said at last.

Michaels looked uncomfortable.

Shamash continued in his stead. “His crime is disloyalty. He jeopardized the fabric of existence by diluting the bloodline of man with celestial essence. Power must be absolute or anarchy prevails. A god may pay a penance. Ishtar foregoes her right to visit earth for absolution. An angel?” He curled his mouth down in a frown.

“He would never have broken the bonds of servitude alone,” Michaels continued, “But in chancing upon you, a conduit of the sun, he saw his chance. You had to take part willingly and I expect he used every charm in his arsenal to make you do it.”

Eve remembered their last act, how she’d begged him to take her. If only she’d understood what that meant.

“So, am I dead?” This place seemed like it could be heaven and, after all, she was in the presence of not just an angel, but also a god.

Shamash chuckled to himself and tipped his head from side to side. “There are perks to being my great, great niece, or whatever it is.” He flicked a dismissive hand at her and the star in her chest burned brightly.

“I am the divine judge of entrants to the underworld. My realm spans night and day, dreams and waking. You are my conduit, and I give you freely of my light.”

Energy buzzed at Eve’s core. It ran up her spine and arched her body. It felt like fire running through her veins yet controlled and contained.

“Besides,” Shamash concluded, “I do love a quest for revenge. You have some vengeance to wreak. Keep me informed.”

Then light flooded every sense, burning white and hot. When it fell away, the throne room had been left behind, too. They were back in the museum and Eve was clutched in Michaels’ grip, one hand pressed against her chest, his other scooped behind her back. His wings beat hard to hold them off the ground.

Sunlight faded, lost behind a cloud, and the rainbow colors emanating from the ceiling globe faded too. Michaels gasped, and they dropped to the floor. He staggered, collapsed to his knees, and released her before crumpling into the pool of Eve’s blood, panting.

Eve, however, felt curiously strong. She sat up to take in the scene with fresh eyes. The star chalked onto the floor; the spilled oil, the daggers cast around them. It was so obviously the setup for a sacrifice. She didn’t understand how she could ever have believed anything else. She noticed the weight of the crown on her head and took it off. The space where her star had sat reminded her to feel for it at her neck and found it instead embedded in her chest. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

A warmth emanated from it that it was hard to dislike, but the fact remained: an unearthly artefact was now buried in her flesh. She resisted her instinct to claw at it. It had saved her life. Saved her from Lucien. They’d not been lovers through time, after all. Lucien had tricked her, made her believe she was a god.

A Nephilim, it turned out.

She shook her head as if hoping that the pieces would fall into place. She scooped up her clothes and pulled them on. Lucien’s shielding runes were gone, burned away by the energy of the sun. She could see herself and the events of the last few months more clearly now. Her brush with death in the river had awoken something and, now that she’d met Uncle Shamash , she snorted a laugh to herself for that, it was like a long dead battery had been primed in her core.

Michaels groaned and snapped her out of her thoughts. She kneeled by his side and brought his head up onto her lap. If it hadn’t been for him, she never would have survived.

The lustrously feathered wings were gone, and Michaels had returned to his familiar human form, albeit in a state of tattered semi undress. His usual expression of fierce disapproval had been replaced by one of terrible pain. His eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes. The irises burned amber, and the lines in his face pulsed with agony. Everywhere she could see, his exposed skin was raw and blistered, nowhere more so than around his mouth and hands.

She’d awoken to him holding her high in the glare of the sun and guessed this was where their skin had touched. The memory of his lips on hers and the sudden jolt of life she’s felt came flooding back, and she wondered if now she could return the favor.

She stooped and gently laid her lips on his. The taste of nectar, sweet and pure, came to her as easily as breathing and washed through her mouth and into his. Healing. Life giving. It was the gift of the gods and it revived Michaels to the point of being able to speak. She gazed down and watched the furrows smooth from his brow and fire fade from his eyes. His body relaxed to settle against the ground.

“Eve,” he groaned, in little more than a whisper. Her golden light reflected in his eyes. “You survived.”

“We both did,” Eve replied. “Although you don’t look so good.”

Michaels winced. “I’m not made to channel the energy of the sun.”

“No,” she agreed. His aura was barely visible, like a mist. “I think I gave Lucien what he needed to be free.”

Michaels closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I tried to stop him, but he’s strong, incredibly strong. In the end, I had to choose between fighting him and saving you.” His brow furrowed and he looked up at her, his expression apologetic. “I have failed.” Tears brimmed in his eyes.

“If saving me is failing, you can do that anytime you like.” Eve bit her lip. Michaels had saved her, been willing to sacrifice his own life to bring her back. Words didn’t seem like enough. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” she said, “And with hindsight, maybe blasting you out of the back of a train was a bit harsh.”

Michaels huffed out a laugh, then winced at the pain.

“But I mean, seriously, how was I supposed to know?”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. The amber fire in Michaels’ iris’ replaced by the brightest celestial blue.

“Will you be alright?” she asked at last.

“My powers are,” Michaels struggled to sit up, flexing his shoulders, “extraordinarily depleted. I cannot see the quintessence. I cannot feel my celestial body at all.” He flexed his shoulders again. “My wings are-, I don’t know. I can’t find them. I should go home.” He made as if to get up but then stopped.

“The chapel. The Dark Fae. The demons.” He rubbed at his forehead as if memories were rushing back to him. “They’ve taken the dybbuk.” He hissed out the words. “No.”

“Anytime you want to make sense, that’s fine,” Eve said, hoping to raise a smile, but Michaels didn’t oblige.

“Lucien’s got his powers back. He’s free. He’s in league with the Dark Fae who have stolen the thousands of demons we’ve caught through the centuries, and my powers are gone.” Michaels sighed in panic. “This is bad, Eve. Catastrophically bad. He can raise an army.” Michaels’ eyes widened. “He’s going to raise an army for revenge.”

That was something Eve could understand. “Holy shit, can we stop him?” She asked. Michaels’ panic was starting to rub off on her too.

“Not like this.” He scoured the room with his eyes as if hoping to find a solution there. “I need help, Eve, a way back to the power. I need Jesper.”

Fear furrowed in the handsome lines of his face. “Where is Jesper?” This last question seemed to be the one which caused him the greatest distress of all. “If the council finds out what I’ve allowed to happen, they will destroy me. And him.”

Eve laid a hand on his shoulder. He winced and she grimaced apologetically. “Is there anyone who can help?”

“I believe I may be of some assistance,’ said Henry Claymore. The librarian stepped out of the shadows. His eyes were glowing a vivid green and there were horns like a ram’s curling out of his head.