Page 61 of The Morning Star
He muttered something about gross body parts, even more revolting when they were your brother’s, but complied. Once he was merged enough with me that I was sure he could get a good look, I brought out the portion of Samael I’d ripped away.
Gregory caught his breath. I felt his wince of repulsion. Didn’t bother me. I was used to demons thinking I was a monster for my devouring. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to know that angels would be doubly grossed out.
A monster among demons. That was me. I wondered sometimes if that was what made the sword choose me? An imp devourer carrying around an archangel’s essence? I’ll bet that would make any sentient weapon sit up and take notice.
“That’s…” I felt him scrutinize the personal energy more closely, poking and prodding at it as I had done. “On the surface it’s exactly like the Samael I fought with in the last battle.”
“And…” I encouraged.
“We are all constantly changing and evolving. I’d expect to recognize Samael right away. He’s my brother. We’ve spent billions of years together, and there are some things about an angel that never change, a core of their being, a certain signature. But with the fall, and nearly three million years in Hel, I’d expect there to be some changes in him.”
“It’s too perfect, too clean,” I agreed. “The Ancients have all suffered horrible degradation in both their spirit-beings and in their physical manifestations. That’s one of the reasons none of them seem to be able to reside in their spirit-forms anymore, even in Aaru.”
“But if he’d been slumbering all this while…” I heard the same longing in Gregory’s voice that I’d heard in Doriel’s—the urge to overlook the obvious and continue to have some hope.
“Look underneath,” I urged. “See what’s behind the veneer of Samael-like energy.”
He examined it once more and I felt him recoil. “That can’t be Samael.”
“It’s not. And he acts like a demon instead of an Ancient,” I told Gregory. “I was face-to-face with him, spoke with him, fought with him. Admittedly, the Ancients in Hel are more demonic than angelic at this point, but with such a pristine energy signature, I would have expected different. There’s a disconnect.”
“Hmmm.” Again, I felt his reluctance.
“He’s nothing like you and the others,” I told Gregory. “I know you all. And I especially know you. There would have been a spark, some similarity that identified him as one of the archangels. If I took away his physical form and this energy signature, he seemed like just some random Ancient to me.”
Gregory sighed. “It’s not Samael. I can tell it’s not him, but I’d hoped… If this isn’t him, then surely he is dead as I’d always feared.”
Feared because Gregory would always carry the guilt for that death. It would be as if he’d followed through on his swing and killed his brother right there on the battlefield with a dishonorable blow. Worse, because he’d banished his beloved brother to his death.
“I don’t know,” I mused. “Can you see Samael allowing an imposter to pose as him without challenge? Would the Samael you know ever have done that?”
He shook his head. “Never. Pride was his downfall just as it was mine.”
I reached out to touch his arm, still keeping my connection with his spirit-self. “I know this is painful, but the fact that this guy is a fake makes our job a lot easier. There won’t be any regret or hesitation when the time comes to kill him.”
Gregory looked around. “Do you think he’ll regroup?”
“Definitely.” I stood and stretched. “They haven’t all gone back to Hel, they’ve just scattered, and I can’t rely upon dragons beyond this one favor. This was a one-deal thing for me. We need to get as many of the humans clear of the demon-held areas as possible, then prepare for a war, because it won’t be more than a few days before they’re back. And plenty of Ancients still think he’s Samael. They’ll rally behind him. Heck, most of the demons following him don’t even give a shit whether he’s Samael or not. He’s an Ancient. He’s offering them some fun and a chance to stick it to the angels. He’ll have no problem finding an army to follow him.”
Gregory stood as well. “Are demons so short-sighted? That messenger told Nyalla what this Samael had planned. Would demons really destroy all life here just for fun and to stick it to us?”
I shrugged. “Maybe? And then they’d be irked afterward that they’d just ruined their playground. More likely they’ll turn LA to a pile of rubble, kill a million humans and a few hundred angels, then get bored and go home, leaving this fake-Samael to throw a tantrum about how unreliable they all are.”
Gregory chuckled. “Just between you and me, I’m starting to become rather fond of demons.”
I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “One demon in particular?”
He did the same, crushing me with his embrace. “Well, she’s not really a demon anymore, is she?”
I grinned. “When it suits me, I’m plenty demon.” Then I suddenly thought of something. “Hey, what did Nyalla do with that messenger from fake-Samael anyway?”
I felt the rumble of Gregory’s laugh. “I believe she has him chained up in the basement with Boomer standing watch over him.”
Grinning into Gregory’s shirt, I laughed too. Poor guy. I’d throw him in my dungeon back in Hel when I returned, and he’d probably find that an improvement over whatever Nyalla and Boomer had subjected him to. Yeah, poor guy indeed.
Chapter 19
“Snip, where’s Gimlet?” The Low wasn’t part of my household, but he’d certainly been hanging around my household enough lately to be considered one. After spending the evening in Hel, having a rather enlightening conversation with my new prisoner, I’d rehashed all I knewI’d known about the Samael of legend as well as this imposter dude. Some improbable suspicions I’d harbored over the last few months about Gimlet had bubbled up to the surface. There was that fire demon in Seattle that he’d beheaded, the note on my dining room table, and a few other things I wanted to chat with the Low about.
