CHAPTER 7

The teapot and empty cups crashed and shattered on the floor, to be then crushed by the flipped table.

Sophia had flipped it.

She had actually flipped the table.

The priestess, red in the face and panting, stood glaring at the demon and angel. The two stared back at her. The silence stretched awkwardly until Sophia’s heavy breathing calmed down. Her face returned to a more natural shade of pink; then it kept paling. Her eyes widened, jumping from one powerful supernatural being to the next. Slowly, she crouched to pick her chair, which had fallen over when she stood. She set it up and sat down, her hands folded in her lap like a scolded child.

Then her eyes rolled back, and her head slumped backwards. Still, she remained sitting straight.

Another beat of silence passed.

“Ah… She fainted,” Samael stated.

Recovered from her shock, Rachiel sighed and looked at Sophia fondly. “She has been under a lot of stress.”

“Stress? What’s that?”

The angel shook her head with a wry smile. A longing light still shone in her eyes when she turned to Samael. “You look so much like your aunt…” Her voice was only above a whisper. She reached out to touch the demon’s face, but as her fingers were about to make contact, black and white sparks flared between them. She hastily pulled back her hand. Her expression was as if she had taken a slap to the face.

Samael rubbed her tingling cheek. “You know Aunt Gabby?” she asked, puzzled.

“Pfff!” An undignified sputtering snort broke through Rachiel’s hurt. She stared at the demon in disbelief. “Aunt… Gabby? Is that how you call her?” At Samael’s nod, the angel had visible trouble keeping a straight face. She held back her laughter, but her shoulders were still shaking. She breathed out and fanned herself. “Phew. If those old chicken hags could hear that… Heaven.”

With the tip of her fingers, Rachiel wiped tears off the corner of her eyes. Still occasionally snickering, she approached her unconscious priestess. Samael’s intense scrutiny never left her. She affectionately closed Sophia’s rolled-back eyes and effortlessly lifted the young woman in her arms, one under her legs and the other supporting her back. Then she smiled at the demon. “Sorry about that. Let’s move her somewhere more comfortable. Then we shall talk.”

Samael agreed distractedly, her gaze now riveted to Sophia’s limp form.

(A/N: Music https://youtu.be/kgHqSj8pFgU)

The angel turned around and walked towards the altar. The bottom of her diaphanous white dress brushed against the marble floor, and her inhumanly even pace made her seem to glide down the aisle. Large and immaculate, her glowing wings were folded behind her back. The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the high windows of the temple and fell obliquely on Rachiel. With the unconscious priestess in her arms, the scene was oddly solemn, and for a brief moment, Samael felt as if she were intruding somewhere she did not belong.

The moment passed, and Samael stalked after the pair, a concerned frown on her dark face, less ghostlike in her movement but equally graceful in her own predatory feline way.

Rachiel carried her burden past the altar and through a discrete door, hidden from the nave behind a series of blocky columns. The door was tailored to Rachiel’s tall size, including her wings which rose higher than her head, and the imposing demon woman easily fit through as well.

They stepped inside a small antechamber. The walls were the same uniform white as the rest of the temple, and completely bare. A handful of chairs were the only furniture. The angel did not slow down, heading for another door at the opposite end of the room. Samael hurried after her.

They were suddenly inside a living room. Couches and a large padded rocking chair surrounded a low table loaded with piles of books. The seats looked comfortable, but the décor remained bleakly naked. If not for the shadowed angles where the walls, floor and ceiling met, the furniture might as well have been floating in a featureless white void. Most of the colours in the room came from a transparent panel, which showed part of a patio and the verdant garden beyond.

Again, Rachiel had already moved on by the time Samael finished her casual observation. Annoyed, the demon stomped down a short hallway and caught up to the angel inside a stark bedroom, just as she laid Sophia delicately on the bed, atop the made covers. The winged woman sat down next to her protégé, and she bent down to land a chaste kiss on her forehead.

There was a brief flash, and light flowed under Sophia’s skin from Rachiel’s lips.

Samael crouched by the bed. Her amber eyes examined the sleeping priestess in details before turning distrustfully towards the angel. “What did you do to her?” Her low growl and glare promised repercussions if she disliked the answer.

“What is she to you?” Rachiel countered calmly, unfazed by the hostility directed at her. Her cerulean blue eyes returned the demon’s stare without flinching.

“I like her. She smells good. She’s cute and funny. I don’t want her to die.”

The candid answer caused an amused ripple across the angel’s tranquil expression. Rachiel broke eye contact to gaze lovingly at her quietly breathing priestess. Her fingers ran through Sophia’s chestnut hair. “I only made sure her sleep will be unperturbed by nightmares so she can rest peacefully.”

Samael kept her eyes on the angel a little longer before following her gaze. However, her frown only deepened. Lost in the vast expanse of Rachiel’s bed, the petite Sophia looked tinier than ever. She had known the human was weak, but seeing her this vulnerable still came as a shock. Even the smallest, weakest critters in Tartarus never let themselves become so defenceless.

The sight bothered her. She liked the animated Sophia, with her anxious fidgeting, her muttering to herself, and her funny reactions. This inert, sickly Sophia, Samael decided she did not like her at all.

“Is she going to wake up soon?”

“She is exhausted, physically and mentally, but that’s all. She will be fine in a few hours.” The angel stood gracefully and gestured for the door. “Please follow me. We will talk outside. Let us give her some peace and quiet.”

The demon looked reluctant. Her gaze drifted back to the figure on the bed.

Rachiel smiled indulgently. “We are not going further than the garden.” Samael finally yielded, and the angel ushered her back through the cottage and out the transparent door she had spotted earlier.

In sharp contrast to the bland interior of the house, the garden was an explosion of colours. Many flowers Samael had not seen yet bloomed in bunches, artfully arranged around berry bushes and fruit shrubs, some even creeping onto a wooden pergola to provide shade to the patio. Decorations abounded: wood, stone and forged sculptures, birdhouses, carillons, mosaics, painted pots, beaded garlands, lanterns, a fountain feeding into a small pond… A tall white wall, partially hidden behind a bluish hedge, kept prying eyes away from this little corner of paradise.

The demon did not know where to look first. Every single thing in sight fought to capture her interest. Yet at the same time, she felt herself calm down. This is better. This is what a home should be. The interior of the house was too bleak, too empty—too lifeless.

Growing up a nomad, Samael never had a fixed home. However, she and her father had a few caves they regularly stayed at, scattered around the Tartarus wilderness. The big archdevil liked to decorate them with trophies of his daughter’s successful hunts. She participated by adding interesting trinkets she found during their travels. Over the years, many of these caves had transformed into treasure troves of giant skulls and shiny pebbles.

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When the mood took him, Lucifer also liked to carve up the walls, especially if he thought the place looked boring. He called it “art”. Gabriel called it “an antithesis of good taste” and “madness-inducing abominations,” which never failed to spark a fight. Samael loved her dad’s art, even if staring at it for too long hurt her head and made her nose and eyes bleed.

While Samael ventured deeper into the cluttered garden, looking at, picking up, and licking and nibbling various plants and ornaments, Rachiel sat in the patio at an elegant wrought iron table. On the table waited a fuming pot of tea and two cups identical to the set Sophia had destroyed in her fit. She poured herself a cup and enjoyed a slow sip before speaking up.

“What is your name, young one?”

“It’s Sam,” Samael answered without looking away from the weird little wooden statue she was holding. It appeared like some sort of bird, but none she had ever seen. The large front-facing eyes and round head gave the animal a funny startled expression.

“Won’t you tell me your full name?

The demon cast Rachiel a quick, suspicious glance. “I’m not supposed to tell it.” She abandoned the statue to peek inside one of the birdhouses. Just then, a small sparrow jumped out of it and onto her head, startling her. The bird pulled at her red hair with its beak. When it failed to pull any out, it ruffled its feathers and took off. Samael’s confused gaze followed it up in the air.

“You are wise to be prudent. But I assure you have nothing to fear of me.”

This time, the demon stared hard and long into the angel’s eyes before turning away and continuing her exploration. “It’s Sam.”

“Alright, Sam. Then you can call me Rachiel.”

“Un.”

“Can I ask you a few questions, Sam? …And please don’t eat the koi fish.”

Samael pouted back at the angel from where she was crouching next to the pond.

Her stomach groaned, and her hungry gaze returned to the multi-coloured creatures in the water. Maybe sensing impending doom looming over them, the exotic carps suddenly all scattered and disappeared into the silty bottom of the pond. The demon’s eyes narrowed angrily. She tilted her head, contemplating the idea of boiling the water to flush her prey out.

Although, spoiling the cold water seemed like a waste.

“How is Gabriel?” Rachiel asked abruptly, trying but failing to mask the eagerness in her voice.

The question bought the koi some reprieve. The demon stood and walked closer to the winged woman, stopping about ten steps away from the patio, arms crossed. “How do you know Aunt Gabby?”

Rachiel stared into her teacup as if it held the answer to some profound existential question. “I suppose… We used to be close. I have not seen her in a long time.”

“Why?”

The angel looked up and chuckled wryly. “Are you answering my questions, or am I answering yours?”

“Ehhh…” A breeze passed over the garden, agitating the wind chimes around it. A cluster of small bells with a peculiar crystalline sound snatched the demon’s focus, and she sauntered over to the tree they were hanging from. She poked the bells and laughed when their rings sent prickly tickles from her ears to the tip of her toes.

“Sam?”

“Aunt Gabby is fine. She teaches me, and she fights with dad.”

“I see…” Rachiel sipped her tea, a distant look in her eyes. “She is fine then… That’s good… That’s good.” She stared at the demon, still playing with the bells. “Why are you here, Sam?”

“I followed Sophia.”

“No, I mean, why are you here, in the Midworld, on this island?”

“Don’t know. Dad sent me here.” She shrugged at the angel. “This is an island?”

“Yes. Do you not have islands in Tartarus?”

Abandoning the bells, Samael walked back near the patio and perched atop a large engraved dry stump. “We have them. But what is around this one? It’s too cold for lava, and the air doesn’t smell like acid.”

“Most islands in the Midworld are surrounded by water.”

“There’s that much water in the Midworld?!”

“There is.” Rachiel nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “But the Midworld is vast and filled with so many people. They need a lot of water to live. Even with how much there is, droughts happen sometimes, and water can become scarce. Without that water, many people die.” She sipped on her tea and frowned deeply. “Dying of thirst is not a pleasant way to go.”

“If there’s no more water, why don’t they drink blood?” Samael was seriously puzzled. “…Is it because of the funeral thing again?”

“It is not safe for most of the Midworld people to drink too much blood. It makes them sick. Besides, these people need water for more than just drinking. The animals they raise and the plants they grow also need water to live. If the plants and animal die, then the people will have no food and die of hunger.”

Samael’s stomach growled in horror, and the demon herself looked a bit faint at that possibility.

“And before you ask, no, most animals and plants cannot survive on blood either.”

“Can’t healers just make them better?”

“But what if the healers have no water?” Rachiel countered.

“Can’t healers make themselves better?”

“Can you heal yourself when you have not eaten or drunk anything for days?”

“No… Oh, I get it.” Samael rubbed her forehead. “That is a problem. Those droughts, they happen often?”

“Often enough to matter.”

“Ehhh. The Midworld is more dangerous than I thought.”

“It is a harsh place for those who cannot survive by themselves.”

The demon nodded in agreement. “Humans seem pretty bad at surviving.”

“They could surprise you.” The angel showed a knowing half-smile and took another sip of tea. “But not only humans, all mortal races, no matter how sturdy, are ultimately powerless before the whims of nature. Droughts, storms, floods, earthquakes and plagues… many fall to those. Mortals can do little but brace themselves against such forces. They band together, build cities and create nations to have better chances at survival.”

“However,” her grip tightened on her cup, “there are those who choose to prey on the weak. Those who refuse their share of the burden. Those who will not work to feed themselves and steal the food that belongs to others. Those who kill, pillage, rob and rape. The bandits who attacked Sophia.” The cup in Rachiel’s hand shattered. She blinked and looked down, half-surprised, half-annoyed. With a small shake of her hand, the spilt tea vanished, and the porcelain shards reassembled as if the cup was breaking in reverse.

Rolling her eyes, she refilled the restored cup.

Samael had watched the display with great interest, but her mind was still caught on what the angel had said. “Those people sound like villains. Villains should be brought to Justice.” Although she was mostly parroting what Gabriel had taught her, Samael truly believed in these words. What Justice entailed, exactly, she was unsure about. But the thought of punishing wrongdoers resonated deeply with her core, sparking a hunger different from the one torturing her stomach.

“Yes,” Rachiel agreed. “And that used to be your aunt, Gabriel’s task. But she’s been… preoccupied lately.”

“Preoccupied?” Samael tilted her head. “By what?”

“I cannot tell for sure. I know she left the Council of Virtues in charge and disappeared for a while. It must be something important and personal for her to allow the situation devolve to this point.” The angel slowly drank another mouthful of tea, looking thoughtful.

An idea wormed its way to the forefront of Samael’s thoughts. “Was it… because she was lecturing me? Because she was with dad and me?”

“I cannot presume of Primordial Gabriel’s motives.” The reply rolled off Rachiel’s tongue with the cadence of something learned by rote and many times repeated.

“Are villains not being punished because I took up Aunt Gabby’s time?”

“I am sure your aunt knows what she is doing. After all, she is greater than us all.”

“And that Council. Are they not punishing evildoers?”

“It is not my place to question the Virtues.” She said it with an air of finality.

Silence fell once again on the garden, disturbed only by the soft song of the wind chimes, the twitter of the birds, and the gentle gurgling of the fountain. The demon was lost in thought while the angel sipped on her tea.

When her cup was empty, she set it down.

“Sophia spoke of an amulet that one of the pirates carried with him. Do you know what happened to it?”

“Oh, yes. It’s right here.” Samael pulled the stone out of a small pouch tied at her waist and showed it to the angel. She had picked it up out of curiosity from the coal-like lump that had become of the mage’s hand. The black flames had left the pendant untouched, but the chain had melted, encasing half the stone in a layer of gold.

“Can I have a look?”

The demon pulled her hand back, glaring suspiciously at the angel. “It’s mine.”

“I will give it back.”

Samael did not budge.

“How about an exchange?” Rachiel proposed, and the demon’s ears perked up. “I will take the amulet, and you can have those bells. Does that deal works for you?”

“Deal.” The pendant was in the Rachiel’s palm almost before she realised, and Samael was already jumping away to snatch the bells. She held them tightly in her hands and again glared warily at the winged woman. “No takebacks.”

“I am beholden to my Word.”

That seemed to finally satisfy the demon, who carefully put the bells in her pouch.

“Sam, Sophia won’t wake up before this evening. Until then, why don’t you explore the Temple a little? I will send Sophia to you as soon as she is better.”

“Hmmm…” Samael thought about the suggestion. There were many things she had spotted during her short trip across the compound, which she would love to get a closer look at. Several interesting smells also demanded her investigation. And she wanted to observe people some more.

However, her gaze drifted back to the angel’s house.

“She will be fine in my home. I promise you there is no safer place on this island. Go satisfy your curiosity. And while you are exploring, you can ask anyone you see to give you directions to the kitchen. The cooks will be glad to prepare a meal for…”

The demon was already vaulting over the garden wall.

“…you.” An amused Rachiel watched her disappear.

Then her smile melted away, and her cold, ancient eyes moved to the small black amulet in her hand. She tightened her fist, and the gold crumbled to powder, freeing the demonic runes etched into the stone. Lost in thoughts, the angel stared at them in silence, her gaze distant and undecipherable, her body as still as the sculptures of her garden.

All around her, the wind chimes sang eerily, excited by the changing breeze.

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