Page 47 of The Morning Star
“You going to listen to that?”
Obviously the archangel had seen me eyeing it as well.
“No. I know what it is. I need to go to Hel, and I might be a while.” So much for some alone time. Although last night had been amazing. After couch sex, we’d both curled up in my bed with Lux and slept. Well, Lux and I slept, while Gregory stared at us like some winged creeper.
He pulled me to him and wrapped me in a tight hug. “I have things I need to attend to as well. Tomorrow?”
“Let me text you.” I might be recovering from a massive smackdown from Remiel. I could be dead. Or I could be hot on a lead to put my sword through the Ancient calling himself Samael.
He kissed me and left. I raced over to the mirror and punched the blue stone, my stomach threatening to eject the omelet I’d just eaten.
There was the expected message from Remiel, with a bit of coolness and irritation to his politely worded missive. I really couldn’t put this off any longer or I’d risk alienating him completely. I needed Remiel. And I really didn’t want him pissed off and tearing through my homes in Hel searching for Lux.
The second message was from Doriel, letting me know that she’d contacted the Ancient calling himself Samael, and needed to speak with me at my earliest convenience.
I’d been looking for an excuse to put off seeing Remiel and this was it. Doriel was the priority, and if she knew where I could find Samael, then Remiel would need to wait. Plus what Caramort had said about Samael’s eventual plan to include the Ancients worried me. If he was really that convincing a fraud, or if he really was Samael, there was a chance I’d be left with only a bunch of Lows and stray demons to back me up against the former Iblis and all the heavy hitters of Hel. If that happened, I’d end up doing nothing but supporting the archangels in what would be the great war all over again. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be the one to handle Samael, or whoever the fuck he was. And in order to do that, I needed as many Ancients on my side as possible.
Tasma. Maybe Doriel. Maybe Remiel. If I could get Doriel and Remiel on my side, then Samael wouldn’t stand a chance. But that was a big “if.”
I left a note for my Lows and Nyalla, then placed a quick call through the mirror to Doriel’s steward, asking to have the Ancient meet me at my home in Dis. When I got there, I immediately got to work, setting any Lows I saw into cleaning up broken furniture and making the place look as if a demon of significant power and influence lived there. It wasn’t a quick task, but thankfully the dried blood on the floor gave the place a nice touch, as did all of Ahriman’s creepy furnishings—well, the furnishings my household hadn’t smashed anyway.
Doriel swooped in, her form this time the golden-haired one she’d used the first time I’d met her. She was regal and stately, with her tattered wings outstretched and an entourage of demons that she waved to remain at the doorway.
I led her to the cleanest of the front rooms, and motioned her toward a somewhat dusty chair. Then I held my breath and offered the Ancient a bowl of pickled bitey fish, not sure whether I wanted her to confirm or deny my suspicions—and fears. She’d left early last night, which could only mean her household had been able to locate Samael. Was it truly him? And if so, was she abandoning me for the other side?
She waved away the bitey fish. Figures. I was the only one who seemed to actually enjoy eating the things.
“So you met with…him?” I asked, getting right to the point.
“Yes, I met with Samael.”
Well, that was direct. She’d just confirmed Gregory’s youngest brother was alive. And I was terrified what this might mean for him—for us all.
“You’re sure it’s him?” I pressed. “It’s definitely Samael?”
“He knew things that no demon would know, that only one or two Ancients would know and those Ancients are dead. He greeted me in the corporeal form he frequently used when I knew him—a limbless dragon. Then he assumed a human form that was always associated with Samael.”
“But three million years ago, the humans were pretty much apes,” I countered. “How could you have recognized this human form everyone talks about if you haven’t seen him since the fall?”
She gave me a patient smile. “The humans were given the gifts of Aaru. Angels of Order aren’t all that creative when it comes to guided evolution. The elves? The humans? All bipedal creatures that share a lot of physical characteristics. When it comes to corporeal forms, Angels of Order tend to reuse the same shape over and over again. The angels, the archangels, we Ancients, and even Samael had humanoid forms long before the humans had them.”
Huh. Learn something new every fucking day.
“So walks like a duck, quacks like a duck? How about his energy signature?” I prodded, hoping that there was some doubt in her mind about this.
Doriel grimaced. “It’s degraded. It’s a twisted mockery of its former self, but I recognize the key elements.”
“So spirit-self wise, the guy kinda looks like Samael, but might not be?” I had to be sure. I had to be absolutely sure.
“I didn’t join with him or anything, but I can’t imagine anyone being able to replicate those key elements to that degree,” she said defensively. “And I could see that his spirit-being held the horrible scars of that final battle.”
I’d imagined Samael’s scars to be rather distinctive. He’d almost been cut in half by his brother’s sword. Now granted, there were a lot of demons who’d suffered similar devastating injuries—especially Lows that tended to be everyone’s punching bags—but the scars combined with the similarity in energy signature, plus the corporeal forms, plus the knowledge of things that Doriel said Samael was the only living Ancient who would know…
I still doubted.
“What did you discover about his plans?” I asked. “What does Samael intend?”
“He intends to kill the archangels and any angel that supports them. Then he plans to take the human world, to lay waste to it and decimate the human population. He wants to destroy the pet project of the Angels of Order. After that he will hunt down any remaining angels, who will either be enslaved or killed.”
