“How about I serve your white meat ass on a platter?” Raphael joshed, punching Samael in the arm.
Samael smirked. “I doubt anyone would want it…”
Gabriel stuck out his tongue in revulsion. He turned to me, whispering. I’d rather slow dance with Cerberus than get a taste of Boniface. Raphael probably has, though, considering their close companionship. What do humans call that again?
“Bromance, Gabriel,” I whispered, watching in disbelief as Samael and Raphael duked it out over the phoenix wing. “So much for brotherly love.”
Yes, bromance. Something angels are well aware of. Now, to properly meet you. Gabriel flitted over, smiling charmingly. I blushed, nearly blinded by his beauty. The angels, once more, were oblivious. His eyes danced with stars. He extended his hand like a gentleman, bowing.
“Existence. What necessitates existence?”“I don't know? Atoms, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, water.”“Belief. Belief creates existence.”“No it doesn't. Things just are. I didn't believe rocks into existence.”“No, but someone did.”“Who? The rock god?”“Maybe. I don't know. But we're obviously someone's idea.”“Whose?”“God's. Perhaps an author's, or playwrights'. At the end, it's all just a dream.”“But who's God?”“Don't know. I know lots of gods. No God. I had a Father, once,” his face grew sorrowful. “But he left long ago.”I didn't press further. “Do you believe in God, Gabriel?” I asked quietly.“Of course I do.”&ldqu
“Through deception, snake. It's hard to walk the righteous path when you slither past our heels.”“Biting heels is my specialty, twin,” Samael hissed, pupils becoming slits.“And trampling serpents is mine.”“Brothers, desist,” Metatron said firmly. “This is a place of welcome. No man or king rules here.”“I'd like to think that,” Samael said cryptically. Come to think of it, the whole conversation was rather cryptic. I really had no idea what was going on.“Maggot,” Samael spat, “get out from behind the rubble. Make yourself presentable. And Gabriel: stand aside.”Gabriel laughed blithely. “Spouting orders, are you now? Don't overstep your bounds, Boniface.” He swooped down from the pillar, then bowed in jest. “Please, brother- don't let m
“Enough. I'm done being your punching bag.” He rose and caught me as he rocketed upwards. The land healed below us, stone creaking back in place as if nothing had happened. He set me down gingerly.“Sniffling isn't threatening, Callie.”I gave him a withering glance. He dusted debris from my shoulder. I realized hazily that I was still in my track suit, feeling incredibly under-dressed. Samael's eyes lit up in comprehension.“I can fix that,” he said sagely.“I didn't ask for-”He snapped his fingers. Aghast, I found my worn sweatpants and Under Armour replaced by a Playboy bunny suit. Samael sported a Hugh Hefner-esque bathrobe and silken black pajamas. He grinned sleazily.“Are you kidding me?” I said flatly.“There,” he said proudly. “Now you're intimidating. Even angels f
“I'll take a double shot of Dark Chocolate Mint drizzled in fudge and the leggy blonde in the back.”I kicked Samael in the heel. He caught my foot between his shoes. Slick as snake oil, he grinned at the cashier. A pimply twenty-something, she stared at Samael dreamily, then rang up the order wrong.“Whatever you want, sir,” she said breathily. “I'll give you whatever you need.”Samael stroked my hair idly, and I felt evermore like his illegally purchased lap dog. “What do you want, maggot?” He leaned over, whispering into my ear. “Something that melts on your tongue?”I retched.He shrugged, withdrawing to the waiting line. His hand lingered at the small of my back.I grimaced, turning to meet the cashier. Samael's spell over her ceased. She plastered me with a bovine stare. “Your
“Aaagh! Why are immortals so frigging complicated?”“Would you rather we fit neatly into little mortal boxes?” He spoke in a falsetto: “Hello, boys and girls! My name's Satan! I'm the Prince of Darkness and Evil Incarnate. That nice old man over there with a white beard is God. He's your Father, and if you don't believe in him, you'll burn in Hell forever. I'll torture you and roast you up good until your flesh melts on my teeth. Doesn't that sound wonderful? And look over there, at that dead man on a cross- it's Jesus. His Father killed him so he could die for your sins.”“What's a sin, Jimmy? Why, you're all born filthy little brats with Sin inside of you like an STD, passed on through sex from the Original Stinking Sin. And no matter how much you bathe, that Sin never goes away, not until you accept Jesus into your hearts. Come, children, kne
Eva and I were sprawled across the couch, eyes glued to the television. A heart-wrenching Lifetime movie was playing. I dug my fingers into the cushion.“Oh no,” I whispered.“Por Dios, no!”“She's pregnant, Eva. They've already dragged her through child abuse, an alcoholic father, and depression. These screenwriters are sadists.” We munched on popcorn for comfort.“Look,” Eva whispered. “She's getting her papa's gun.”“No!” I yelled. “Don't do it, Amanda! Think of your child! You and Jimmy still have a future together.”My brother called from the basement. “Shannon, are you watching Lifetime?” He raced upstairs, planting himself on the floor. “Hey,” he said, winking at Eva. She scoffed. Mo shrugged. He turne
We'd crossed the Border hours ago. Samael carried me in his arms like I was a child, following the mongrel's scent. The trail of bloody paw prints grew fainter as the moon rose high. He paused every now and then to look at me fondly.“Remind me why you're dragging me along?”“Because,” Samael said quietly, “otherwise you're a demon chew toy.” He sailed through the woods without touching the ground.“Aren't I already?”“No. More a feral lapdog.” He leapt into a clearing, wings outstretched to buffer his fall. I got a mouthful of feathers.“Umf.”“Yes, nice scenery.”The morning star twinkled above. A stone pedestal stood under an oak whose roots grew in tangles around it. The tracks came to an end. The corpse of a girl lay atop the stone. Her blood dripped down the its cracks.
Samael spent the next hour stalking the perimeter, weaving black spells. He examined the corpse, murmuring darkly to himself while Puck took notes. Strange symbols had been written in nephelim blood on the tree.“I tracked him far as the West Wind. There was nary a trace of the creepsing angel, Thane of Flies,” the satyr growled, driving his hoof into the ground. He scribbled notes on the page. “Bloody rotten bats! A pox upon the mongrels!”They plotted the fallen angel's demise while I sipped my tea. My watch read nine P.M.. Samael had assured me my family would take no notice of my disappearance, thanks to his “mind-editing” capabilities. I hoped I didn't return to a house filled with human goo.Samael approached, smiling crookedly. “How would you like to deliver the death blow, maggot?”I cocked my brow. “What? You want me to