“Ori?” she said, turning toward him now. “I was speaking of you, Zareth, not the Fallen.”

  “What is this?” the angel demanded. “You dare accuse me?”

  “I was tasked with examining the Fallen’s actions, to determine if he was stealing souls or killing innocents. I did as instructed, only to find the one I should have been investigating was you.”

  “He lies. How can you not know this?”

  “You offered to save the exorcist’s life, and his soul, and those of the three young mortals Azagar held in thrall, if he betrayed the Fallen.”

  “Is this true, Zareth?” Michael asked smoothly.

  “Ori is a threat. You know what he is capable of.”

  “I do, yet you were aware that I had assigned Serrah this task. Why would you be involved?”

  “To be honest, I did not trust her.”

  Ignoring the insult, Serrah focused her thoughts. A scene appeared in the air in front of them revealing the moment Azagar coerced the exorcist into a bargain the demon meant to break. There, in the background, was Zareth, just as she had seen him.

  Michael gestured and scene repeated itself. Zareth’s face paled now. “Explain yourself,” the Archangel said. “Why did you not intervene? You knew what that fiend was capable of.”

  “I was observing the Fallen. It was not my task to help the exorcist. I knew that Serrah would believe Ori’s lies. I wanted you to know who you could trust.”

  “I would say that the Archangel already knew who to trust as he assigned me the task,” she replied evenly. “I would not have watched the exorcist be trapped like that. I would have interceded.”

  “Even if it was forbidden?” Michael asked.

  “Yes. Four souls were in peril. Think of how the Evil One would have crowed if we’d allowed Simon Michael David Adler to be lost? If the exorcists cannot trust us to aid them, why should they risk their lives to save those who are possessed?”

  “That is a very good point.”

  “I only did what needed to be done,” Zareth insisted.

  “When the exorcist took Azagar to the place of execution, the fiend was released from the holy container. No Hellspawn can do that,” Serrah said. “The exorcist and the trapper would have died if they had not lured Azagar onto sacred ground. Someone helped the fiend. Someone who could break a holy seal. Someone who wanted the exorcist dead.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zareth said, his eyes shifting back and forth between Serrah and their superior. “Clearly the exorcist made a mistake. Mortals are not trustworthy.”

  “You were the one who broke that seal and turned the fiend loose,” she insisted.

  “No, Ori must have freed Azagar. He only claims to have left Lucifer’s service.”

  “The Fallen was with me when the demon was freed.”

  “Has he seduced you as well? Did you believe his flattery, silly one?”

  The accusation burned like a whip strike. Serrah felt her anger flare, then forcibly pushed it down. If she lost herself in righteous fury, Zareth would win.

  “When the demon was freed, we were in the mortal city of Atlanta. By the time we arrived to aid the exorcist, it was dead. Neither Ori nor I left this behind.” She reached inside her robe and removed the feather. “This is one of yours, Zareth.”

  “Impossible.”

  Michael’s eyes moved to her now. “Is that all the evidence you have of this alleged crime?”

  “Yes,” she said, extending the feather. The Archangel took it, holding it as if it meant nothing.

  He doesn’t believe me.

  Abruptly the air swirled, and a scene appeared in front of them. It was the night when the exorcist and the trapper had arrived at the holy place. They opened the building, discussing matters of faith. Then the container was ripped from the trapper’s hands, pulling her some distance away from her companion. The box landed on the ground and rolled. When a pale hand touched it, the container exploded. The scene expanded outward revealing Zareth. As he stepped back, smirking, a single white feather fell to the ground.

  “Archangel,” the traitor began. “I—”

  “Silence,” Michael commanded. That one word seemed to echo into infinity.

  Serrah took a deep breath, refusing to look at the traitor. He had sided with their enemies, willfully colluded with them, as if he were already in thrall to the Fallen in the Pit. Somehow fate, or the hand of the Creator, had ensured that feather had been left behind to be discovered.

  When Michael finally spoke, his voice was as cold as the nameless void.

  “I knew what you were capable of, Zareth, for Serrah is not the first to warn me of your actions. That is why I felt a test was in order.”

  “You tested me?” the angel retorted.

  “Yes, even you, Zareth.” Michael turned his attention back to her. “Your official report regarding the Fallen, Serrah?”

  This would not be easy, so only the truth would do. “Ori is a paradox. He once believed Lucifer’s lies, and so he fell. I think he made that decision because he had great animosity toward you.”

  A stiff nod confirmed her assessment.

  “Ori’s time serving the Adversary wounded him greatly, for he grew to hate himself for the evil he inflicted upon the mortals.”

  “And now?”

  “Now he fights for them, would willingly die for them. He kills Hellspawn whenever possible.” She drew herself up. “He is a Divine in need of redemption, and he is going about that in his own single-minded way, one bloody battle at a time.”

  “He has not taken a soul since he was reborn?” Michael asked.

  “No.”

  The Archangel turned his gaze on Zareth now. “Did you not tell me he claimed one just this week?”

  “He . . . did. The soul of David Elliott Patterson of the mortal city of Minneapolis.”

  “No, Ori was still in the Prince’s chains when he took that one. He has claimed none since he was renewed to life,” Serrah said. “I checked with those Divines who keep track of such things.”

  “Archangel,” Zareth began, his voice tighter now. “I can explain.”

  “You can explain freeing a fiend, one that would go on killing, maiming and stealing souls? You can explain threatening a mortal doing righteous work on our behalf? You would side with the Prince in all these matters just to settle an old score?”

  “Ori is evil!” the angel shouted.

  “Your hatred of him makes you blind. The evil I see is in you. There will be a reckoning for your deeds. Begone!” With a wave of Michael’s hand, the other angel vanished.

  Now his eyes studied her, and it took all of Serrah’s courage to meet them.

  “You used me to test Zareth, to see if the others spoke the truth about him.”

  A solemn nod.

  “Did he recommend that I be assigned this task?”

  Another nod.

  “I see.” She worked that out in her head. “He thought me malleable enough that I would give him what he needed to destroy Ori. You tested me, as well.”

  One of Michael’s eyebrows rose at this. “You are more astute than I assumed.”

  She let that pass.

  “He will be given a suitable punishment. But what shall I do with you? You were to observe, not interfere in any way, yet you did. You interacted directly with the mortals, you assisted Katia Allyson Breman when she was in the Pit by placing words of Latin on her tongue. You were personally involved in the mortal realm, not just an observer. That was not your task.”

  “No, it was not my task, yet I did all of that.” The pride she felt was probably a sin, but it was there, nonetheless.

  Michael chuffed. “No regrets?”

  “None,” she said, shaking her head. “The exorcist cast out the fiend and saved the lives and souls of three innocents. That was the most important matter.”

  Another huff, though much less pronounced this time. Michael closed his eyes, as if listening to a voice she could not hear, then he nodded as his eyes opened. “Because of your actions you will be assigned a new task, one that few would envy.”

  She had no idea what that might entail.

  “Perhaps your new assignment will teach you that mortals are not as we are. They are certainly not as pure as us, nor as important. No, you will very shortly tire of them, I suspect.”

  She waited for him to reveal her new assignment, but instead he seemed preoccupied. “Wait in the repository of mortal bones where Rahmiel serves.”

  “Archangel,” she said, giving a bow.

  Michael vanished to wherever such higher angels went when they weren’t chastising the lesser ones.

  “Now I’ve done it,” she murmured.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Serrah found Rahmiel sitting on the stairs that led to a granite mausoleum. This one was quite grand, with stone columns and a gilded gate that led to the old bones stored inside.

  “How is the great Archangel this day?” Rahmiel asked, looking up at her approach.

  Somehow this angel knew where she’d been. “He was more pensive than usual. I found it unnerving.”

  “I suspect some influence of our Creator. What of Zareth?”

  For someone who spent her days in a cemetery, Rahmiel was remarkably “plugged in” as the mortals would say.

  “He has made serious errors and is to be punished.”

  “Perhaps that will be the final push.”

  “Push?” Serrah asked.

  “To Fall.”

  She blinked in surprise. “But none have done so since the Prince.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Rahmiel asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

  “Oh . . . ” she said, dropping onto the step near the other Divine. As it all sunk in, she repeated, “Oh!”

  “We lose a few every now and then, though it is certainly not talked about. I suspect even now Zareth is planning his next move. Dare he Fall? Was that why he worked to destroy both Ori and the exorcist? Has he received assurances that he would be welcomed by a new master in trade for such services?”

  “Zareth would be a fool to believe those assurances for they are surely lies.”

  “If I remember him correctly, he is. You would know him better.”

  Oh yes, Zareth was more than enough of a fool to listen to the Adversary’s gilded tongue.

  “Why did Michael send me here? Do you know what he intends for me?”

  “In a way, yes.” Rahmiel pointed toward Atlanta. “That is your task now.”

  “I do not understand what you mean.”

  “Remember I told you that the previous guardian had been reassigned because he was not performing his job properly? Well, now the mortal city of Atlanta has a new guardian. Congratulations! Or perhaps I should say, I am so sorry,” the angel said, then winked in amusement.

  “Me?” Serrah squeaked.

  “You.”

  Serrah stared at the city’s skyscrapers in the distance, at Rahmiel, then back at the metropolis. “All of it? All the mortals in that confine?”

  “Yes, all the souls within the city borders. There about a half a million of them. Then there are the countless numbers of them who journey into the city every day. Most are righteous, a few are truly wicked. Others are a mix. The usual when it comes to mortals.”

  “Guardian . . . of a city. But why me?”

  “Have you considered that this was not the Archangel’s decision, but Someone Else’s?” Rahmiel suggested. “That maybe it came about because you and the Fallen work together without bloodshed? Hmm,” she said, tapping her index finger to her chin like a mortal. “I wonder Who might want that to happen?”

  Serrah was astounded. If Rahmiel’s reasoning was correct, it appeared the Creator, for whatever reason, had decided that she was to be given this task. An important one, indeed.

  “You would be a better choice,” she said honestly.

  “No, I would not,” Rahmiel replied. “I love this place too much. I am as much a part of it as the bones I watch over.”

  “But they are just mortal remains.”

  “True, but I was here during the great battle, present when momentous decisions were made, both cosmic and personal. I have been a witness to so much important mortal history, and a part of it. I value that as much as these old bones.”

  “What does a guardian do?” What if she failed like the other guardian?

  Rahmiel broke into a big smile. “I will show you, but first, I must set a watch.”

  What she did next made no sense, for the angel made a strange noise that caused several creatures to scurry out from under bushes and down from the trees. A dozen fluffy squirrels formed a half circle in front of her now. When they stopped fidgeting, she knelt and spoke to them in words too soft for Serrah to hear. Then Rahmiel rose, and at a gesture, the squirrels scattered like seeds on a brisk breeze.

  “They will be my eyes while I am in the city. They will show me if I need to return here quicker than I plan.”

  She commands small creatures. “Can I do the same?”

  “Oh yes. There are many you can speak with, and some will help you. You also have the trappers, the exorcist and the Fallen to bring you news. That’s a good start.”

  Ori. What would he think of her new job?

  “I suspect he will welcome your presence. He will take care of the fiends, you will take care of the mortals. It makes sense.”

  In truth, it did. “Then show me this city I must guard.”

  With a knowing smile the other angel took hold of her hand, and in a swirl of air they left the aged cemetery, and the squirrels, behind.

  † ~ ‡ ~ †

  Lucifer drummed his fingers on a knee. His plan had worked better than he’d hoped, though losing the souls of the younger mortals had been annoying. Some might believe that not gaining those of the exorcist or the trapper was a mistake, but not him. He’d have Simon Michael David Adler’s soul one of these days. Let them think they were winning.

  Azagar had been easy to manipulate. Flatter him, stroke his inflated ego, then slap him down. As predicted, the fiend had rebelled, seeking to establish himself as the strongest in Lucifer’s realm. A more cunning or intelligent demon would have seen the trap. Azagar had been neither.

  But in the end, it had worked better than he had hoped, for it had driven a wedge of doubt in the exorcist’s mind. Would Heaven watch his back or was that realm just as skillful at deception as this one? Lucifer already knew the answer. In time, Simon Michael David Adler would as well.

  Something crashed through the invisible barrier that led to the upper realms, descending in a tangle of body, feathers and rank fear. The angel struck the ground near the base of the throne, and moaned.

  Perfect.

  Yet another one of Heaven’s lot had joined his army, another flawed Divine he could manipulate. Lucifer gestured and two of the closest fiends seized the figure, dragging the angel onto his feet. The newcomer’s wings were ripped, turning darker by the minute, as blue blood dripped on the cavern floor. More would soon follow.

  “Zareth. Welcome to Hell,” he said, gesturing at the cavern around them. He could afford to play the affable host, at least for the moment.

  The newcomer stared, at first in horror, then slowly his expression turned calculating. “I have come to serve you, my Prince,” Zareth said, his voice unnaturally strong for someone who had just abandoned Heaven. This one would bear watching.

  “I had hoped that would be the case. Do you pledge your fealty to me?”

  A nod returned.

  “Speak the words,” he commanded.

  A hesitation. A slight one, but a hesitation, nonetheless. Even now Zareth was calculating how he could work this to his advantage.

  “I pledge my fealty to you.”

  “You pledge your service to me knowing that I hold your life in my hands, that only I will determine if you live or die?”

  “Yes, I so pledge.”

  “Excellent. Your oath is accepted, Zareth the Fallen.”

  Ori had made the same vow, but had later learned that the matter of life and death was a crucial one. If one was never permitted to die, it would eternal servitude. For a Divine that did not seem to be of much importance, until it was.

  Lucifer nodded at the pair of demons. “You know where to put him. Let him rest in chains until I call for him.”

  “But lord, I thought—”

  “You will obey me, Zareth. If you fail to do that, I will have you broken. Then I will heal you and break you again. Do you understand?”

  A nod came now, along with fear in the angel’s eyes.

  As it should be.

  “Welcome to Hell, Fallen. I have great plans for you. But first, you need to learn exactly what it means to live in my realm, and to be my servant.”

  It took only a matter of minutes, but soon Zareth’s agony-ridden voice joined that of the others in exquisite torment. It was, in its own way, divine music.

  Vanity and the blind quest for power were universal traits of both mortals and Divines. Traits so easy to manipulate, especially in his fellow angels. Lucifer had lied, of course—he broke all his servants before they gained the right to serve him. Zareth was now learning that in the most painful way possible. In time, he might prove useful.

  If not, there were always others.

  Epilogue

  Simon rose from the kneeler, settling back on the pew, his mind at peace. It was quiet in the sanctuary today, only a few people in the church. He’d offered his prayers of gratitude for surviving Hell, for Katia, and for Ori. He wondered what Heaven might think of that last part, but that was their problem. The Fallen had served the Light more than one of Heaven’s own. Something Simon would always remember.

  During their phone call, Father Rosetti had said he had not been surprised by Azagar’s strategy, nor that of the Prince. He felt that it said much about Simon’s expertise as an exorcist that Hell had gone to so much effort to try to destroy him. In the end, he’d done very well in such a perilous situation that had included treachery by one of Heaven’s own angels.