Kristina Douglas - The Fallen 1 - Raziel (13 page)

“Where is he?” I asked.

“In the cave. Just go straight—you’l find him.”

We were three-quarters of the way up a mountain that I hadn’t even realized was nearby. Its top was enshrouded in mist, as was the rocky shoreline below, and I could see the great yawning mouth of a cave closer than I would have liked. I waited for the familiar panic to set in. “I’m claustrophobic when it comes to caves,” I final y admitted, glancing nervously at the rough-hewn entrance, worn smooth by centuries of scouring winds. In fact, I didn’t like heights, closed-in places, places that were too open—give me a phobia and I embraced it enthusiastical y.

“Not anymore,” Sammael said in a colorless voice. “You should watch what you say. You’l be lucky if the Council simply decides to grant you the Grace.”

“The Grace?” That sounded almost pleasant.

“Your memory would be wiped clean. I promise you, it wouldn’t hurt, and you’d be perfectly happy. You’d be able to do simple tasks, perhaps even learn to read and write a few simple words.”

I stared at him in absolute horror. “No,” I said flatly.

“It won’t be your choice.” He seemed unmoved by my reaction.

“Do you want me to take you to Raziel?”

“I can manage,” I said, not sure that I could, but I real y didn’t want to hear any more of Sammael’s awful possibilities. The inhabitants of Sheol seemed to have mixed feelings about me. Azazel, Sammael, and Raziel clearly thought I didn’t belong, and I was happy to agree with them. Tamlel, Sarah, and the Stepford wives were welcoming, but that would probably mean nothing once they held their council meeting. “But I thank you for the offer. I think I need to figure out how to get what I need on my own, don’t I?”

He barely registered my question. “I’l come back if there’s a problem.”

“How wil you know?” I asked suspiciously. Raziel had been able to read my mind—if it turned out the whole place knew what I was thinking, then maybe I wouldn’t mind getting a lobotomy.

“Sarah wil know. Sarah wil tel me,” he said simply, as if he expected me to know something so basic.

Clearly Sarah was a force to be reckoned with. It was a good thing that she seemed to be on my side. “I’l be fine,” I said firmly, and before I could add to it, Sammael had disappeared into the wind.

“Wel , damn,” I said out loud. I’d been hoping to see wings. If Sammael came equipped with them, I hadn’t had time to notice.

Which made travel convenient, but stil a little bit puzzling.

I turned to look at the cave, waiting for the icy fear to set in, but I felt nothing but an entirely reasonable nervousness at the thought of bearding Raziel in his den. Sammael had told the truth—the claustrophobia had vanished.
Whoopee,
I thought with a suitable lack of enthusiasm, walking forward.

I stil wasn’t crazy about enclosed spaces. The wide corridor into the mountain looked as if it had been a mine shaft, if they had mine shafts in the afterlife. It narrowed a little too swiftly as I made my way down it. Normal y I’d be curled up on the ground, covered with a cold sweat. The fact that I could keep moving, deeper and deeper into the mountain, was more proof of how different things were. A proof I could easily have done without.

I wasn’t quite sure what I expected. The corridor took a couple of sharp turns, shutting out the daylight at the entrance, but I managed to keep going without stopping to hyperventilate. Where the hel was Raziel? I had the sudden fear that Sammael had pul ed a Hansel and Gretel on me, luring me to this mountain to abandon me, thereby getting rid of a messy problem. Sarah wouldn’t let him get away with that, would she?

I’d almost given up trying to find him when I turned one last corner and saw him sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of a huge stone cavern, his eyes closed.

I had planned to be a smart-ass and say something like “Yoo-hoo, imaginary creature, I’m here,” but I thought better of it. He was sitting at the edge of a great yawning hole in the center of the cave, and it looked like some of the wal s had col apsed inward. He was at the very edge, too close for comfort, and as I looked he seemed to sway toward the opening.

I tried to stifle my instinctive scream, but he heard me anyway and jerked, startled. He fel backward, away from the pit, and the chair went over. I could hear it splintering against the stone wal s as it fel , and I shivered. He rose, focusing on me, and I tried for a cheerful smile.

As I expected, he wasn’t the least bit pleased to see me. “How did you get here?” he demanded, not moving any closer.

“Sammael,” I said.

He grunted. “You’re wearing my clothes.” “It’s better than al that white,” I said. “Were you frightened by an albino when you were a child?” “I was never a child.”

Another of his flat, incontrovertible statements. At least he was talking to me. “You mean you were born this way?”

“I wasn’t born.” He stayed where he was, on the edge of the pit, and it made me nervous. Though I supposed if he fel , he could probably fly out of there, couldn’t he? “Why are you here? I told Tam and Sammael to keep you busy. This is no place for you.”

“I don’t belong in this dank little cave? I can agree with that,” I said.

“Not that it’s actual y dank or little, but you get the point. Or I don’t belong in Sheol at al ? Because I’m wil ing to agree with you on that one as wel , but apparently it’s your fault I’m here and not back in New York dodging buses, and I real y don’t feel like having a bunch of men get together and decide what’s going to happen to me, particularly when one of the options includes the equivalent of brain damage. And I don’t like white.”

He blinked at the non sequitur. “Tough,” he said shortly. He started toward me, and I watched him, trying to put al the strange, disparate things I knew about him together in one package.

“Where are your wings?” I asked. If I was going to be stuck with angels, I should at least get to see some feather action.

He rol ed his eyes. “Why is that always the first question? You don’t need to know.”

“If I stay here, do I get them?”

“You’re not and never wil be an angel,” he said.

I was wil ing to put up a fight. “Oh, you never can tel . I mean, clearly I’ve been far from angelic so far, but I can always change my ways and become positively saintly.” I gave him a hopeful beam that left him entirely unmoved.

“People don’t become angels,” he said in a tone that said,
Any
moron knows that.

“How about heaven? Don’t people get wings there? Since I’m dead and al that, it seems like a good place to start.”

His laugh wasn’t flattering. “I don’t think you’ve reached that point yet.”

“Then you’re stuck with me. Get used to it.”

He halted directly in front of me. “For now,” he said. “I wouldn’t count on a lengthy stay. But for as long I have to put up with you, you can stop stealing my clothes. And you can stop talking—the sound of your voice is like fingernails on a blackboard.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, total y unmoved. “I have a delightful voice. It’s low and sexy, or so people have told me. You’re just being difficult.”

“I don’t care how glorious your voice is, I’d appreciate hearing less of it.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it again. If I wanted to survive, I needed him on my side, and I was going to have to behave myself, at least a little bit. I stood perfectly stil , saying nothing, waiting for him.

He tilted his head, letting his strange eyes slide down me, assessing. Odd, but it felt as palpable as a touch. “My clothes are too tight for you,” he said helpful y.

“You’re a man, I’m a woman. I have hips.”

“Indeed,” he said, and I looked at him sharply to see if there was an insult hidden behind his bland tone of voice. “I meant to have clothes provided for you.”

“You did. They were al white.” “You don’t like white? It’s the color of rebirth, renewal.”

“It’s not a color at al , it’s the absence of color,” I said. “I may be in limbo, having to get by on your charity, but I’m not going to let everything go a dul beige.”

“Limbo is a mythical construction,” he said. “And white is not beige.”

“Sheol is a mythical construction, and angels are part of fairy tales, and vampires are nightmares, and you don’t exist,” I snapped.

I was getting a little tired of al this.

“Then where are you?” He wasn’t expecting an answer. “What did Sammael tel you?”

“Sammael’s a teenager. He barely said two words. Sarah was more forthcoming. She told me not to count on you for anything.”

“Did she?”

“She said that despite your great kindnesses to me—and I have to admit I have yet to see any evidence of kindness on your part—

you wouldn’t speak up for me at the meeting and you’d let the others do what they want with me, and I wanted to make sure—”

“Be quiet!” It was spoken in a soft voice, soft but deadly, and I shut up.

Almost. “Are you going to let them melt my brain?”

He looked confused for a moment, before resuming his familiar exasperated expression. “Oh, the Grace. No.”

It was one smal syl able, but I trusted him.

“In the future, you’re not to come up here,” he continued, his tone cool, “and I wil make certain Sarah knows where you’re al owed to go and what’s off-limits. There are dangerous places in Sheol, including the gates that surround us. This place is almost as dangerous.”

“Have you found Lucifer?” He opened his mouth to reprimand me, and I shot back, “It’s four words, for heaven’s sake. Deal with it.”

He looked annoyed. “Sarah’s been talking too much.”

“Everyone seems to talk too much to suit you. Or is it just women?”
Sexist bastard,
I thought with a peculiar lack of heat.

“No I’m not,” he said.

Not what?
I thought.

“You are the only female around here who seems unable to control her tongue You don’t need the details of our fight with the archangel.

It’s none of your—”

“—business,” I chimed in with him. “And Sarah didn’t tel me much. Besides, I might point out that Lucifer fel because he dared ask too many questions.” I shot him a wry glance. “You should have some sympathy for the curious.”

“Don’t get delusions of grandeur. Lucifer’s questions were more important than whining about why there are so many stairs.”

“And that reminds me—judging by Sammael’s ‘shortcut,’ I shouldn’t have had to walk. You have wings—you could have flown me up there in no time.”

“I could have,” he agreed. “But you need to know where you are, what’s expected of you. There won’t always be someone around to transport you. And I don’t want to transport you if I can help it.”

“Why not?” He probably didn’t want to touch me, I thought, grumpy at the idea. He was treating me as if I had an advanced case of leprosy, which was both annoying and ever so slightly depressing.

Not that I was attracted to him—he wasn’t my type.

“You know why,” he said shortly.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes met mine, and I had the oddest feeling I could see my own thoughts in them. Which was truly a horrible idea, because I’d had some thoughts that were decidedly warm, indecent, and embarrassing. This was hard enough without him knowing that I had feelings I was using al my excess energy trying to fight. If he could read my every thought, I was screwed.

“No, I can’t always tel what you’re thinking,” he said by way of an answer, and my heart sank. “Some things are easy, other things are wel protected inside you. It takes a lot to get to those, and I’m certainly not going to bother.”

I wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or insulting. At least he had no idea that I had a furtive desire to jump his—

“Stop it!” he snapped.

Shit
. Okay, I could try fighting back. I batted my eyelashes, giving him my most limpid, innocent look. “Stop what?”

He crossed the cavern so fast I wondered if he’d used magic, or whatever his abilities were cal ed. “It wil not happen, so you can stop thinking about it. I am never going to mate with you.”

“
Mate
with me?” I echoed, much amused. “Why don’t you just cal a spade a spade? You’re never going to have sex with me. Which, incidental y, is fortunate, because what makes you think
I
want to have sex with
you
?” No one likes rejection, even from someone they despise.

“There’s a difference. Mating is a bond for life.
Your
life. Sex is simply fornication.”

“And you don’t approve of fornication.”

He looked at me then, a slow, scorching look. Maybe I was wrong on the rejection part. He loomed over me, dangerously close. “I could quite easily fuck you,” he said deliberately, the word strange in his faintly formal voice. “You are undeniably luscious. But I’m not going to. And you need to get it out of your mind as wel . It’s not just the words that distract me. It’s the pictures.”

Oh, crap
. He could see the visuals? “I can’t help it! It’s like tel ing someone not to move. As soon as someone tel s me to be stil , I end up having to wiggle. Anyway, you were the one who brought up the subject in the first place.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. “I have things to do,” he said final y. “I don’t want to transport you.”

I looked around the cavernous room. “You’l have to put up with it,”

I said. “Otherwise there’s no way down and I’m stuck here.”

“You tempt me,” he said, and his stark, beautiful voice danced down my backbone. I real y was much too susceptible to him. “But someone would come to find you.” He moved past me, heading toward the corridor that led to the outside world. As outside as Sheol might be. He paused, looking back at me. “Are you coming?”