The Bone Cup Read online

  “Hey.”

  Uriel started a little and turned away from his observation of Mount Ararat. Raziel sat beside him, but Uriel hadn’t heard his beloved join him. He gave Raziel a small smile and tried to sound nonchalant as he replied, “Hey yourself.”

  Raziel slipped his arm around Uriel’s shoulders and looked at him with that penetrating gaze that Uriel knew saw every thought and secret. “Why are you meditating on the ancient past, babe?”

  Uriel shrugged and turned away, looking back at Ararat. The sun was nearly up and her golden light shone benevolently down on the grave of one of the most remarkable vessels ever built. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  Raziel moved closer, his embrace tightening. “Are you wearing that protection amulet?”

  Uriel snorted. “The fulgurite? It’s pretty, I suppose, but what’s a damn crystal on a bit of leather thong going to do that our own powers can’t?”

  “It’s made out of a perfect symmetry of earth, air, fire, and water,” Raziel said. “So it amplifies our own wards that we protect ourselves with.”

  “You said that last night.” Uriel sighed heavily and leaned into Raziel. “Ignore me. I’m cranky and moody, and I feel like a hormonal teenager having mood swings.”

  “I know I did, and I would never ignore you.” Raziel ran his hand through Uriel’s hair, and in spite of himself, Uriel found himself smiling. “I would never ignore you, dear heart, because even when you’re the crankiest Archangel that could, I will always love you.”

  “I don’t deserve you some days,” Uriel said.

  “No,” Raziel agreed, “you don’t. But the majority of the days, you do, so they make up for those when you don’t.”

  “Philosophical,” Uriel muttered.

  “Why are you staring at the Ark?” Raziel asked.

  “Because when we parked it on the slopes of Ararat, everyone on board had a fucking party.” Uriel shook his head as he remembered. “I was told to turn off the rain and fuck, that was the best order I’d received yet. There’d been so much pain, Razzy. That boat saved us.”

  “You lost part of yourself on board, though,” Raziel said.

  Uriel turned once again to look at him. “What?”

  “My dearest Uri, before all that shit went down in Eden, you were happy. You had a short temper, yeah, but so did most of us. Building Eden, I’ve never seen you so wrapped in joy. And then Semjaza came and ruined so much, and we had to turn on our own kind—again—so soon after the war in Heaven, and you had to drown the planet. How could that not change a soul? Noah was never the same and neither was his wife. The children recovered, but they were younger,” Raziel said.

  Uriel huffed. “How is it that you know me so damn well and you still stick around?”

  “Because I love you, and love forgives a lot.” Raziel rested his chin on Uriel’s shoulder. “And I remember how angry you were at Adam. You set fire to his grave. And then you set fire to all the art and sculpture depicting Semjaza and his Grigori, and you probably would have set fire to Eden too, if Michael hadn’t stopped you.”

  Uriel thought about that. “No,” he said slowly, “no, I don’t think I would have burned down Eden. Eden still meant a lot to me. It still means a lot to me now.”

  “We designed and built it together,” Raziel agreed. “And you still think I’m humoring you when I tell you of the fountains and gardens I built for you.”

  Uriel snorted. “Because you are humoring me.”

  “I’m not, you know.” Raziel planted a kiss on Uriel’s cheek. “Just as I know you built the Temple of the Wise for me.”

  That made Uriel start, and he pulled away, staring at Raziel in shock. “What?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Raziel said with some asperity. “You didn’t say anything, so I didn’t either. But I know you, Uri. Sometimes better than you know yourself. I remember how you were before the humans were evicted from Eden, and I know how you grieved on that Ark. You may think no one remembers, but I do. I do, and Ishtahar as well. That”—Raziel ruffled Uriel’s hair—“is what happens when you are loved.” He pulled back and got to his feet. “There’s work to do,” Raziel went on. “Come inside.”

  Uriel stared at him, unable to think of a reply. Raziel shrugged and looked over the city as Yerevan began her day.

  “It’ll be a long one, today,” Raziel said. “I’ll meet you indoors.”

  Uriel watched his love walk toward the stairs. When Raziel was out of sight, Uriel let out an explosive breath and shook his head. He drained the last of his coffee from his mug and used his power to send it back to the hotel where Ondrass was staying. Getting to his feet, Uriel brushed off his jeans and then took one last look at the city and the mountain.

  “Raziel, you amaze me sometimes,” Uriel said. “Thank you. For everything. For always. For loving me.”

  In his mind, Uriel heard the reply.

  “You’re welcome, babe. Now come indoors. We need to plan revenge.”

  Uriel couldn’t help the vicious smile that crossed his face at that.

  GABRIEL WAS taking advantage of the gym that was part of Ondrass’s extravagant hotel suite. At that moment, he was doing crunches, Shateiel kneeling at his feet and holding his ankles as Gabriel lifted himself from lying down to sitting, his hands behind his head.

  “How many’s that?” Gabriel asked.

  “One hundred and two, sir,” Shateiel said.

  Gabriel grunted and relaxed, lowering his hands to his lap. “I reckon that’s enough for now. Let’s get on the treadmill, yeah?”

  Shateiel nodded and got to his feet, holding out a hand to Gabriel. Gabriel took it and gracefully stood, and the two angels moved from the mats to the treadmill machines.

  By the door, Michael watched, a small smile on his face, and Gabriel gave him a cheeky grin and a wink, making Michael’s smile broaden. “So,” Gabriel began, turning his attention back to Shateiel, “how’s Agrat?”

  Shateiel huffed, even as he moved on the treadmill, the muscles in his chest and shoulders rippling. “She is holding up as well as can be expected, sir. At present, she is with the stars and Eisheth’s soul. I think she takes comfort from visiting her sister’s resting place.”

  “At least she ain’t doing anything reckless,” Gabriel said. He set the speed on the treadmill and began to jog. “I have to say that this idea of sending her and Lilith to pretend they’re betraying us all to Naamah ain’t filling me with joy.”

  “Nor I.” Shateiel increased the speed on his own treadmill to match Gabriel’s. “May I speak frankly, sir?”

  “Of course, Shateiel. What’s on your mind?”

  It took Shateiel several minutes to answer. Gabriel turned his head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Finally, Shateiel shook his head and began to speak, his mental voice full of worry.

  “I am scared, sir. I am scared that Naamah will see through them both and kill them. Oh, I do not worry for Lilith. But Agrat… Agrat is my heart and my life. I could not continue with her gone. I am fearful that Naamah will injure Agrat and Agrat will be lost to us all forever. Agrat is strong and wise, and I know that it would take a great deal to incapacitate her, but it was not so long ago that she was kidnapped and held away from us by those angel sellers. Yes, we caught them and put a stop to their slave trade, and saved her and Lord Raphael and the others, but Naamah is not a group of greedy humans or angry Archdemons. Naamah is one of the first creatures made by God.

  “And she has secreted herself in Purgatory which was not made for human souls or angel souls or demon souls. One could argue that Naamah is none of these things, for she is a succubus, but she is of God, she was made by Him. She has a touch of His hand on her, in her very cells. I fear that her prolonged stay in Purgatory has warped not just her soul but her mind. I fear what she will do in her quest for chaos. And I fear how she may use Agrat against us all as we intend to use Agrat against her.”

  It was an unusually long speech, and Shateiel had brought up quite a
few things that Gabriel himself was worried about. He grabbed the towel that was draped over the side of the treadmill and mopped the sweat from his face. Setting it down, he sighed. “That’s a lot to worry about to be sure. And I can’t give you any sureties, either, ’cause I’ve got many of the same concerns.”

  Shateiel shot him a quick grin. “At least we are in agreement on our fears and concerns, sir.”

  Gabriel laughed at that. “Aye, we are. I don’t know, Shateiel. I really don’t.”

  “Nor do I.” It was Michael, and he had come to stand in front of the treadmills so silently that Gabriel hadn’t noticed. “Shateiel, I completely understand your worries. As Gabriel shares them, so do I. But Agrat and Lilith have weapons that Naamah does not.”

  Shateiel looked puzzled. “Sir?”

  Michael’s expression grew proud. “They have all of the warriors of Heaven. They have Gabriel’s Seraphim and Tzadkiel’s Ophanim. They have the minds of Raziel and Raphael and the wisdom of Samael and Metatron. They have Uriel, Haniel, Remiel, and the knowledge of Penemuel, Kokabiel, and Baraqiel. They have the cunning of the Archdemons of Hell and Lucifer himself. And they have my sword and the swords of all the Brotherhood of Archangels, and the combined power of my choir and the demons who make up the Guild of Glass Knives. Against such might, Naamah cannot prevail. Nor indeed, can Purgatory. We will rescue them and we will cleanse all of creation of Naamah’s evil. I have faith in this, Shateiel.”

  Gabriel gazed at his lover with respect, once again awed by how Michael managed to inspire confidence with his words. Shateiel, however, stopped his treadmill, dropped to his knees, and genuflected at Michael’s feet.

  “You do not need to do that,” Michael said kindly, bending down to help Shateiel stand. “We are angelkind, Shateiel. And I love your wife as if she were my sister. So I worry for her too. Yet I know the power we have at our disposal and command, and thus, I find that my worries are dispelled by thoughts of that.”

  Shateiel saluted. “Thank you, Lord Michael.”

  “It is nothing.” Michael saluted back. “Go and get clean, Lieutenant. We will be meeting in Ondrass’s overly elaborate rooms in twenty minutes.”

  Shateiel saluted again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. And thank you, Lord Gabriel, for listening to me while we train.”

  “It’s no problem, Lieutenant. Go wash.” Gabriel stopped his treadmill and reached over to clap Shateiel’s shoulder. “We’ll be along soon.”

  “Sirs.” Shateiel picked up his own towel and mopped his face quickly. Then he set it down on the treadmill and marched out of the gym, confidence in his step.

  “Thanks, solnyshko,” Gabriel said, stepping off the treadmill.

  “It is nothing that is not true,” Michael said. “I find that I have been telling myself these things nearly every hour since Agrat and Lilith gave us their idea. It is a comforting mantra, even though I sometimes think something could go wrong. I know it would be foolish to expect that nothing would go wrong, and so I prepare for eventualities, but all such preparations are academic until we are in Purgatory.”

  Gabriel ran his hands through his hair. “Aye, I reckon we’re on the same wavelength about this. And now I’m all sweaty and need a shower. Want to wash my back?”

  Michael laughed. “All right, but there will not be time for anything else, da bao.”

  Gabriel exaggerated his pout. Then he laughed as well. “Aye, I know. Just having you wash my back would be good.”

  “As you say, then.”

  ADRAMELEK HAD come to Hell on the pretense of writing a report to leave for Lucifer. His real intention had been to visit his home and his cat. He felt the need to reorient himself to the familiar—and the loved—before joining with Archangels and other angelkind in assaulting Purgatory.

  Sitting in his favorite armchair, Sprite curled in his lap and purring, Adramelek let his mind drift, reaching out with shadowy fingers of his power to touch all the parts of Hell that made him who and what he was.

  He brushed the consciousness of other Fallen Ones, and they returned his touch with their own, a sense of recognition and welcome, of acceptance and shared loyalty to this plane of existence and its mercurial ruler. He touched the torture cells and those demons who tormented the souls within, and then moved on to touch the edges of the sealed area where the Grigori dwelt in eternal agony.

  And then he touched the Castle of Black Ice and felt the presence of Ba’al going about his duties, the legion of Hellhounds that guarded the building, the pain and despair of those who were imprisoned in the Lake of Eternal Fire and the Sea of Frozen Souls. At last, finally, he touched the awareness of Lucifer, who responded with a warm mental caress. A moment later, Lucifer was there, in Adramelek’s living room, and Adramelek looked up at his oldest friend and smiled.

  “Adry,” Lucifer said, and his voice was soft and fond.

  Adramelek gently moved Sprite off his lap and got to his feet. He moved to Lucifer and embraced him, arms and wings winding around the Lord of Gehenna. He felt Lucifer’s own arms and wings around him and Adramelek allowed himself to relax.

  “Lucifer,” Adramelek said.

  “I know, dearest friend,” Lucifer murmured. “You needed to come home to connect with what and who you love. I do not fault you. I would do the same. Working with Heavenly beings is a trial in any circumstance.”

  “Yes,” Adramelek said, and it was almost a moan. “For the love of little demons, they irritate me. When this is over, I want to spend a week swimming in the Sea of Frozen Souls.”

  Lucifer threw back his head and laughed, a full-bodied laugh that was infectious and had Adramelek chuckling as well. Sprite gave voice to a happy little trilling meow, and Adramelek stepped back, out of his lord’s embrace, and gazed at him, feeling all the love and adoration and loyalty he had for Lucifer Morningstar fill him.

  “Beloved Adramelek,” Lucifer said, resting his hands on Adramelek’s shoulders, “I will prepare mai tais for when you have finished your swim.”

  Adramelek laughed. “It’s a date,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Lightbringer, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” Lucifer’s pale blue eyes glittered with affection and the silvery fires of his power.

  “What if something happens to Lilith while we’re dealing with Purgatory and Naamah? I mean, this plan of hers is a good one, but there are risks.”

  Lucifer let out a slow breath. “I know. I am steeling myself for the worst. I cannot interfere directly, and if she should be hurt or killed, I will be… unhappy. But I am also pragmatic. There is no such thing as a perfect plan. So I expect the worst in order to be pleasantly surprised. However”—Lucifer’s expression became stern—“you, Adramelek, Archdemon of Fire, Great Minister and Chancellor of the Order of the Fly, President of Satan’s private council, the High Council of Devils, President of the Order of Glass Knives, I forbid you to die.”

  Adramelek saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Lucifer moved closer. He pressed a chaste kiss to Adramelek’s forehead. “You should return,” he said. “I believe you have a strategy meeting to attend.”

  “Yes, I do. Lovely. Another day spent in discussion with angelkind and their hangers-on,” Adramelek said.

  Lucifer ruffled Adramelek’s hair. “It’s your cross to bear.”

  “I’ll be glad when I can put it down.” Adramelek squared his shoulders. “I take your point, though. I’ll just feed Sprite, then I’ll go back upstairs.”

  Lucifer nodded. “All right. Keep me informed, won’t you?”

  “I always do,” Adramelek said.

  Chapter Two

  LIAM LEANED against the windowsill in Ondrass’s boardroom, his arms crossed over his chest. His brother was beside him, and Liam could feel the tension radiating from Declan. He didn’t blame him; he felt the same way. Since the destruction of the homes in the Congo and the North Korean communal farm, the deaths, the corruption of the bowl of the Holy Grail, everyone
was tenser than before. The knowledge that the spirits of the dead were hiding from all the Necromancers because of their fear of Naamah upset Liam more than he had dared admit to anyone—except Michael. It had been Michael who had comforted him when Liam had broken down in tears—tears of frustration as much as sorrow. It had been Michael who had ordered platoons of Cherubim and Dominions to guard all the cemeteries and grave sites of the world and protect the dead, and it had been Michael who had promised him that the dead would have little to fear from Naamah with such protections.

  Since that private conference, which had occurred before a brief sojourn in Oregon, Liam had found himself thinking of Michael with something akin to awe. All the stories that he’d been told about the Archangels when he’d been a child paled into nothing compared to the endless compassion and quiet strength of the chief Archangel. Michael was pure terror with a sword; Liam had seen the images on news reports from the war. But what those news reports had not shown were the depth of Michael’s love for humanity and his absolute determination to preserve, protect, and serve all humans—the dead as well as the living.

  Knowing that Baxter had once had a crush on Michael did not diminish how Liam felt. He could understand it. Michael was, after all, extremely handsome. But to Liam, it was more of a handsomeness born of Michael’s personality and compassion, and Liam felt Michael and Gabriel were exceptionally well-matched. Michael’s reserve was buoyed by Gabriel’s cheerful happy-go-lucky nature, and it was quite obvious to Liam just how much they loved each other. No one would ever come between those two, Liam knew; it was the same kind of all-encompassing love and commitment that had existed between Liam’s own mother and father.

  “Stop daydreaming,” Declan hissed.

  “I’m not,” Liam said. “I’m thinking.”

  “Whatever you call it. Stop it.”

  Liam turned to give Declan a dark look. “You know, right, the conference or whatever won’t start until Adramelek gets back? And the rest of the Archangels?”