Ignite (9 page)

“The Lilim virus.”

Chapter 7

We stare blankly back at Gus. He shakes his head in exasperation. “Honestly, do you two even listen to anything I say?”

“Well it really depends on how many times I hear my name,” Azael answers with a smile. “I can hardly show an interest in something that doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“You’ll just have to give it your best effort to pay attention then,” Gus says pointedly.

“No promises,” he mutters, slumping on his elbows so his head dips down between his shoulders.

Gus shoots him a sharp look before explaining. “The Lilim are demi-demons and the offspring of Lilith.”

“Wait, Lilith has children?” I question. “How? She’s a demon. It’s physically impossible.”

“I’m offended that I wasn’t invited to her baby shower,” Azael says.

Shut it, Az,
I warn him, kicking at his ankles. He makes a huffing noise in acknowledgement.

Gus doesn’t seem any more bothered by his comments than he already is. He ignores him and answers me. “She used to have hundreds.” He looks at us expectantly. “You’ve learned about this. Or do you ignore my history lessons, too?”

I look at him guiltily and Azael flashes a smug smile.

“Great, I’m glad to see I’ve made such an impression on you two. Here’s an abridged version…”

He lets his head fall back and he takes a deep breath, like he’s breathing in the twenty-six letters that hang above him to piece together into a story. I lean forward to listen.

“Lilith found humans…
fascinating
. She used to be one, after all, before Lucifer stole her from Eden and brought her back to Hell with him. In the dawn of the human race, Lilith was particularly interested in men. She would seduce them, and because she was once human herself, she was somehow able to bear their children—all daughters. When her first daughter was born, it was neither human nor demon. The child was both.”

“Half-human, half-demon?” I whisper.

He nods. “Lilith had inadvertently created a new breed of demons. With a foot in both worlds, Hell and Earth, her daughters were incredibly powerful. They had the strength and speed of a demon. Their only flaw was mortality. They were born without souls, but they had hearts that would beat only until their death. You must have found one that was still in the process of changing, otherwise Azael wouldn’t have found a soul at all.”

“If there’s a soul to reap, I’ll find it,” Az intones, uninterested.

Again, Gus ignores his comments. “Lilith kept bearing children and eventually built up a small army of demi-demons. They threatened the purity of Earth, and Heaven recognized the danger. So the angels created the Nephilim.” He looks between me and Azael. “Please tell me you remember what I’ve taught you about Nephilim.”

It takes me a moment to grab onto the thread of the memory, but I find it. “Angel-human crossbreeds. Made by mixing human blood with that of a powerful angel.”

“Good,” Gus sighs, sounding relieved.

Azael rolls his eyes.
Teacher’s pet.

I jab him sharply in the ribs with my elbow.

“The Nephilim,” Gus’s voice echoes in the empty chapel and disrupts the flames, “were stronger than the Lilim. Their blood was pure and old, much older than Lilith’s. But Hell had no alternatives to Lilith’s blood. She was the only demon who could procreate with humans successfully, not that others didn’t try. Demonic children not born from Lilith’s blood died in miscarriages.”

“How many children died?” I ask flatly. Az glances at me, a question in his eyes, but stays silent.

“The number is too high to be calculated,” he answers me, unconcerned. “The children weren’t the only ones who died. Humans could not handle the poison of demons. Human men were weak, and the women were poisoned by the potent demonic blood of a full strength demon. They also died during childbirth. The pain was too much for them and their bodies would give out. That is why demons can’t procreate; there is nothing living within them but death. Lilith was the one exception. She was the only host who wouldn’t kill the men or the children.”

I close my eyes and try to imagine the deaths of the children, mothers, and men. A small part of me, buried deep in the shadows of myself that I hide from everyone, finds it disgusting. Why would Hell continue to try to mate with humans if they knew the result? How many times did they try? The deaths seem unnecessary and repulsive.

Michael’s voice returns to me.
And maybe one day you’ll see that.

I shake the thought out of my head and focus on what Gus is saying.

“It didn’t take long for the Nephilim to wipe out the Lilim. After seeing all of her children slaughtered, Lilith didn’t want to have any more daughters of her own. So she stole the newborns of humans and killed them. It was her own small revenge on the angels who took away the only family she has ever had. She stopped creating Lilim.” He brushes the stubble on his jaw. “Until now.”

“Very spooky,” Azael says in monotone.

“The Lilim are back.” I’m thinking out loud, trying to untangle the knot of information.
Lilith had children. Lilith lost children. Lilith is creating children again
. “You said it was a virus?”

“The new Lilim are different. Lilith is stronger, and now so are her children. They can now be created by blood, not birth. Her blood is powerful enough, potent enough, that it has been transformed into a kind of virus that can effect both males and females. The infected are at the infancy stage of changing into a Lilim. The virus festers in the veins of its victim until everything pure is eaten away—the soul, their humanity… It’s faster and more efficient this way. Their past is slowly erased as the virus—”

“That explains why the soul’s memories were gone!” I interrupt, able to make sense of at least one small part of the strange puzzle.

He looks at me sharply and continues. “Their past is erased and their future is given one purpose: to continue to spread the virus. It is a primitive need to keep their race alive and growing. Lilith can create the Lilim by injecting them with her blood or having them drink from her vein. Once infected, they can spread it themselves. It is most commonly transmitted human to human by a bite.”

I recoil slightly and glance quickly at Azael. His neck is unscarred now, but I can’t forget the tear my teeth left in his flesh.
Transmitted by a bite
.

“Not every bite is successful, of course. These newborns,” Gus pauses and searches for the right words in his notebook, “frequently lose control. When they feed, they are consumed completely and can sometimes kill their victim instead of changing them.”

“So what is this?” Azael asks, shifting impatiently on his feet. “Another secret plan of Hell that we’re kept in the dark about? Like with Michael?”

“And why has Lilith begun making Lilim again?” I scoop my own questions on top of Azael’s. “Why remain dormant for so long only to resurface now?”

“I helped create the virus from her blood decades ago, but Lucifer wanted to wait to use it. I wasn’t informed it was being reintroduced to humans again.” Gus stops for a minute to think, consulting the small, graphite-smeared pages of the notebook. He skims the scrawled letters that I assume make some semblance of sense to him and pulls absentmindedly at his lip. “It has to be Michael,” he concludes. “He is the catalyst. His presence has made the Lilim virus extremely valuable and spreading it has become more urgent. Creating the Lilim now will strengthen Hell’s army.”

“Michael, again? Really? How much trouble could this one kid cause?” Az’s words leak out of him like piss.

“We’re preparing for war, Azael,” Gus is bitter and serious, his tone scolding. “His return has bigger implications than you can imagine. You know Lucifer’s been focusing his efforts on reclaiming Heaven. He wants the throne, and he will build an army to help him get there. With Michael alive again, things have changed.”

For once, Azael’s silent and empty of comebacks, for the time being.

Gus closes his notebook solemnly. “As long as Michael lives, Lucifer cannot claim absolute power in Heaven.”

“Then it’s simple, really,” Azael purrs. “Eliminate Michael. It would be my pleasure to kill him a second time.”

“No!” The word escapes my lips before I can sew them together. Azael and Gus both look at me with raised eyebrows. I set my jaw. “I mean, Gus, you said he’s changed. Maybe he won’t accept the things Heaven tells him. He could be valuable. We could—”

A raised hand from Gus stops me. “It doesn’t matter either way. We cannot kill him now. When he escaped, a part of him was left in Hell, and that piece still binds him there. His soul and Lucifer’s are tied together; if one dies, so does the other. For the time being, it doesn’t seem that Heaven is aware of this connection.”

“Or he would be dead,” I guess.

“They would sacrifice him without a moment’s hesitation if it meant Lucifer would die. Until we can sever the connection, no harm can come to Michael.”

“But he’ll only grow stronger!” Azael protests.

“He is strong now,” Gus says firmly. “The same power he had before resides in him now. He never lost it. It’s just dormant. Don’t underestimate him for a moment. If you strike now and awaken this power, there is no telling what he would do. He might cause harm to himself if he knows about the connection, become a martyr.”

“So where does that leave us?” Even next to the cluster of small flames from the candles, I feel cold. I run my fingers through the flames, twirling the fire into smoke.

“You two are in the unique position of knowing information that no other non-level 1 demon knows. I am working on severing the connection between Michael and Lucifer, but progress is slow and complicated. They are woven together so absolutely…” He shakes his head. “The mark he left in Hell is complex. A part of Michael lies within Lucifer and a small part of Lucifer lies within Michael, just as you two are connected. They’re brothers, but their differences bind them together more intricately than usual.”

Gus pauses, his eyes darkening seriously. He glances quickly at Azael, scanning his sharply set features.

“We are on the brink of war, and if Lilith is creating Lilim again, it is nearer than I have thought. And Michael, whether Heaven has realized it or not, has become very valuable to us. And you two will be responsible for him.”

“I’m sorry,” Azael laughs dryly. “
Responsible
for him? What exactly does that mean?”

“It means that you will follow, observe, and protect him from harm—from others or himself.”

Azael slams his hands violently on the alter again. “I’m no damn babysitter!”

I watch Gus carefully, measuring his expression as his face shifts in minute emotions. Thinking about following Michael, I feel a jolt in my veins. I could try to talk to him again, maybe even convince him to abandon Heaven for a different cause. I could fight alongside him when we overthrow Heaven.
Would he fight with me?

“For how long?” is all I ask.

“I cannot see the future anymore,” Gus says miserably. He rests his head briefly in his hands, rubbing his temples tiredly.

“Can’t get it up, old boy?” Azael teases. “Perhaps
you
should be the babysitter.”

“Gus, you’re a diviner!” I speak over Azael. Diviners can always see the future, even if there are multiple outcomes. For him to be blind to what’s coming…

“The future, it would appear, has yet to be written. Everything hangs in a balance so precious that one wrong move could collapse the world as we know it.”

A choking scoff sounds from Azael. “I’m fine with the world collapsing.”

“All of the worlds, Azael. Earth, Heaven, and Hell. The lines that separate the worlds are blurring, erasing, now that the apocalypse has officially begun.”

My stomach twists.

“I’ll break out the champagne,” Azael quips.

Chapter 8

“Can we stop the apocalypse?” I ask.

“And why would we want to that?” Azael spreads out his arms. “It’s time for the world to burn.”

I shift nervously from foot to foot. “The world wouldn’t be the only thing that burns.” I place my hand over my ribs, imagining the sharp point of an archangel’s sword piercing my skin and charring me from the inside out. “We all would.”

Gus pushes his notebook around the altar distractedly. “Once the apocalypse has begun, there is little hope of stopping it. The lines between the worlds are blurring, and there’s no going back now. At least, that’s according to the prophecy.” He shrugs lightly once, reopens his notebook hopefully, and scans a blank page. He snaps it shut decisively. “But the prophecy has been unwriting itself.”

“
Unwriting
itself?”

“Pages are disappearing—as if the future’s being erased. Whether or not that is because there is no longer any future, or if it simply hasn’t been written yet, I’m not sure. But I’ve never seen anything like it before. No one has.”

I look over at Azael, who has resettled himself in the high back chair. He pulls at the fraying fabric, twisting the thread around his finger until his fingertips turn white.

“So for now…?”

“For now,” Gus takes a deep breath, “there is nothing to do but to wait. We bide our time, as the connection between Michael and Lucifer is severed, and we reclaim Heaven.”