Chapter 26 – Jessica
Marseille
I cut my palm on a rusty support beam and nearly fall off the structure to my death.
“Think I can get tetanus or something now that I’m not in Hell?” I ask Sar in a whisper once we’re safely on the dusty ground. He just bops my nose. That’s not an answer, Mister.
The three of us skulk through the warehouse, careful not to run into one of the creeps around a dark corner. Thankfully, Itha memorized the layout from above, because I got turned around the moment we hit the ground level. Orientation is not my strong suit.
It’s not long until we’re standing at the entrance to where they locked up the Nephalem boy. Careful not to make the hinges squeak, we open the metal door just wide enough for us to be able to enter.
In the gloomy light from the skylights above, the young man gazes at us curiously. “Who are you?” he whispers. I think it’s funny he immediately knows we’re not one of the cultists.
“Friends,” I whisper back, holding my palms up in a show of innocence. “I’ll get those chains off you,” I say, approaching him slowly. They’re padlocked, but I can disintegrate a link or two using the ether and they’ll detach soundlessly.
“No, wait!” the boy hisses and I freeze.
“Why?” Sariel drawls, stepping to my side protectively, Itha joining right after.
“They’re going to bring their boss in to question me. It’s a demon lord in someone’s court. I know that much from spying on them this last year, but I don’t know who it is exactly.”
So, he knows about demons and courts and probably about what he is. Curiouser and curiouser.
Sariel leans down and removes his sunglasses. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, boy.”
The mortal on the chair rolls his eyes sassily. I kinda like him.
“You don’t scare me with those eyes. My dad’s eyes are red, imagine those glaring at you when you’re caught skipping school to hang out with the local bad boy.” The human has a shit-eating grin that's on par to the Fallen he’s talking to.
“Dad?” Itha repeats. “Your father is a demon?”
The young man tilts his head. “Yes?”
“And your mom?” Sariel asks next.
The boy gulps. “She’s an angel,” he whispers, then looks at Itha. “Actually, she looks a lot like you.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. “That makes him a full-blown Nephalem,” I say through my fingers.
Sariel blows a woosh of air before speaking up. “Wonder what Lana would think about him.”
The boy freezes, then gapes at the dark-haired angel. “You know Lana?” His voice shakes and his body starts trembling as he waits for an answer. He looks like he scarcely dares to hope we’re talking about the same person. But what are the odds?
“Yes,” I finally say, putting him out of his misery. Sariel throws me a dirty look, but I really don’t think this mortal is out to hurt our girl. “She’s my team leader.” I grin at Sariel. “And this one’s stepmom.”
“She’s alive?” the Nephalem asks, tears welling in his beautiful brown eyes.
“She’s great,” I confirm, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Happy. In love. Ruling a good chunk of the Underworld. But how do you know her?”
The boy sighs and it looks like he’s releasing years of worry. “She’s my best friend,” he says innocently. “I've been trying to find out what happened to her for so long, I was sure I’d never find any answers.”
A light bulb goes off in my head. “Wait, are you Mike?”
The boy’s tears run over his soft-looking cheeks. “She talks about me?”
“Of course!” I whisper-shout. “We got drunk one day on patrol, well, actually, more than just one day, but on this particular day she told us about her friend Mike and, oh, you don’t care about any of that.” I wave my hand as if to shoo off my rambling. “Now that you know Lana’s safe, are you sure you still want to stay locked up?”
He's shaking his blonde head before I finish speaking. “No, you don’t understand. These demons in charge, they want to wipe out all half-mortal descendants, purify the Celestial race.”
Sariel grunts. “Great, demon Nazis, like the human ones weren’t bad enough.”
“Do the mortal cultists not understand that would mean their own end as well?” Ithuriel asks.
“They’re either too dumb to understand or too delusional to care,” Mike replies with a roll of his eyes. “When Lana disappeared, I was sure they got to her.”
“You knew what she is?” I ask.
Mike nods with a wince. “It’s why I befriended her. But I really do love her,” he swears.
“I believe you,” Sariel huffs. “You’ve been looking for clues for years.”
“How did you not get recruited to the Underworld by the Council?” Itha asks next.
Mike grimaces. “I heard these guys talk about humans in Hell, and that’s when I hoped the disappearances were connected to that rather than their unholy purging crusade. But I didn’t even know about it until recently. My parents might have protected me from it.”
“Who are your–” Itha’s question is interrupted by approaching footsteps.
“Fuck,” Sariel growls. “That’s a demon lord approaching.”
“Free the boy and shield him in the corner,” Itha orders, facing the door and broadening his stance.
Crouching down next to Mike, I pull on the ether and disintegrate a few chain links at his sides. I don’t bother muffling their fall as I drag them off the wide-eyed Nephalem.
“Hurry,” I tell him, pulling him up and walking him to a darkened part of the room. I have zero chance of surviving a fight with a demon lord and Mike looks like a strong wind could tip him over. “Do you know how to fight?” I ask him, harried.
“Y–yeah,” he stutters. “My dad taught me as soon as I was old enough to hold a plastic sword in my hands. Unfortunately, I have my mom’s girlish figure.”
I snicker at his dry sense of humor despite the dangerous situation we’re in. No wonder he was best friends with Lana, the queen of sarcasm.
The footsteps grow louder and clearer until five more figures crowd the shrinking room. Four are the unkempt cultists, but the one in the front stands out. He’s tall, leanly muscled, and has a well-maintained goatee covering half of his cold-looking face. His eyes are like lifeless ice chips.
“Andras,” Sariel drawls, hooking his thumbs into his jeans’ belt loops, casual as can be.
“Sariel.” The demon doesn’t seem surprised to find us here, or surprised at seeing it’s the fallen angel who’s in front of him. “Came back for more?”
A barely audible growl vibrates the air as Sariel takes a step forward. Itha’s arm shoots out to his shoulder, holding him back. That was clearly a dig at the loss of Armaros.
“Interesting company you’re keeping,” the demon lord remarks, eyeing first Ithuriel, then me and Mike behind me.
“I could say the same about you,” Sariel sneers, no hint of fake amity left in his demeanor. “What’s with the slacker brigade?”
The demon, Andras, looks at his companions with disinterest. “They have their uses.”
“And when they no longer do, you dispose of them?” Itha asks.
Andras smirks. “Whyever would you think that, angel?” He then looks at Mike, half hidden behind me. “What stories have you been filling their heads with, Nephalem?”
“Don’t talk to him,” Sariel snaps.
Andras fakes being taken aback. “Oh, my, such protectiveness. Have you been fucking the boy that’s been spying on us for years, Sariel? What would Armaros have said?”
Sariel’s lips pull into a razor-sharp smile. “Arma would have been all over that tiny twink ass. But we’ll never know because you and your lackeys used Belial’s hellfire to kill him,” he finishes with a hiss.
The demon lifts an eyebrow. “Did we?”
The Fallen’s hands open and close at his sides and I’m worried blood’s about to flow. I take another small step back, pressing Mike into the wall.
“What would Uncle Asmo say if he knew one of his lieutenants was in league with that scumbag Belial?” Sariel asks through clenched teeth.
Andras smirks. “I’m not quite sure what you mean. Regardless, neither archdemon is around to answer any questions.”
Itha squeezes Sariel’s shoulder. “We will take our leave now.”
The demon lord’s brows climb up his forehead at the casual contact between the two angels. Still, he doesn’t remark on it. “Why? We’ve only just started talking.” He starts pacing in front of the door as his lackeys cross their arms, forming a wall between us and the exit.
“We have nothing to say to you,” Ithuriel says dispassionately, sounding like the angel I met all those weeks ago.
Andras stops pacing and looks at Itha with feigned surprise. “Oh? Surely that boy has something to say if he’s been skulking around for so long?”
“Nope, we’re good,” Mike chirps and I elbow him with a hiss.
The cold demon taps his lips thoughtfully, then seemingly comes to a decision. “You can leave, but the boy stays.”
Sariel shakes his head. “You might not be afraid of Uncle Asmo or that bellend Belial, Andras, but surely you’re not about to provoke the Council by harming a human?”
Andras grins. “Who said anything about harming him? I just want to have a chat about his parentage. Besides, whether or not he should be considered a human is debatable. One step into Hell and he’d be nearly as powerful as a newly-created angel. Or demon.”
I glance at Mike. Who is this boy?
He blinks his round eyes at me, sooty lashes fluttering innocently.
“Do you want a fight, Andras?” Sariel asks coldly. “Because you’re massively outgunned.”
The cultists against the other wall grumble in protest. Idiots.
Andras’ lips tighten with the first hints of anger. He turns to the side. “ Laissez-les partir, ” he growls, ordering them to let us leave.
Reluctantly, the humans move aside.
Sariel goes first, not showing a hint of fear as he passes by the demon lord. Itha turns to Mike and me, beckoning for us to follow. I wrap my arm around Mike’s shoulders and pass by the cultists and their leader, my chin raised high, though my heart pitter-patters with worry for Ithuriel. No one’s watching his back. We leave the warehouse with our escort of four Cambions, the rest in attendance watching us curiously, probably wondering where we came from and why we’re just allowed to leave.
I breathe a sigh of relief once the Mediterranean sun warms the top of my head. “Oh, boy,” I whisper.
“I was about ready to pee my pants,” Mike agrees.
“Are you alright?” Ithuriel asks Sar, who’s still silent and tense as he leads our charge.
“No,” he replies. “But I need to talk to Father. I’m gonna have to return to Hell.”
“No need,” a voice sounds from the shadows of a neighboring building and I jump in fright as a delicious-looking Aim casually falls in step with us.
Mmm, if I wasn’t thoroughly taken…
Sariel stops and whirls on his father’s spymaster. “Have you been following us? Why hide?” he accuses.
Aim lifts both hands, the rings on his fingers sparkling in the sun. Not very stealthy of him. “Relax, Sar. I was following Andras. I got tipped off that he’s coming here and wanted to make sure you three aren’t in the crosshairs.” He raises a pierced eyebrow at the last part. “Guess my instincts were spot-on.”
“Who tipped you off about Andras?” Sar asks accusingly.
Aim winks seductively. “Not about to burn my sources.” He takes us all in, his gaze lingering on Itha’s sweatpants, my dusty T-shirt, and the dirty smudges on Mike’s cheeks. “Catch me up?”
Sariel sighs, looking exhausted. “Get Lana. Tell her Mike needs her.”
The boy in question brightens up at Sariel’s words and my heart swells for him. I can’t imagine thinking my best friend is dead for years only to find out she’s alive and that I’ll be seeing her soon in the span of one hour.
“Then tell Father he needs to talk to the Council,” Sar continues. “Looks like this goes beyond Belial. Andras is part of Asmodai’s court and we don’t know if he’s the only one who shares these ideals.”
“What ideals?” the assassin inquires.
“Of a pure Celestial race,” I interject, drawing his denim blue eyes. Feeling a flutter in my nether regions, I clear my throat. “They want to exterminate all halflings,” I finish.
Aim’s eyes widen at that and he looks at my angels for confirmation that I expressed myself accurately. Once they nod, he swears and straightens.
“I’ll go now,” he says. “Where do we meet?”
Mike clears his throat, calling for attention. “On Saint-Giniez in the Eighth Arrondissement,” he says.
“What’s there?” Sariel asks.
“My parents’ home.”