Chapter 17

Iflew at such speed that the landscape below me whizzed past in a blur, faster than ever before. I pushed myself like this partly because I still needed some kind of exertion to work off the rage simmering in my blood, but also because time was of the essence.

Every minute ticking by meant more torture for Azazel.

Just the thought of what he might be going through right this moment made me grit my teeth and beat my wings harder.

Inevitably, I had to slow down a few times, namely when passing borders between territories. Contrary to Hell, there were no turf wars up here, and therefore border security was less tight in general, but traffic between domains was nevertheless a thing that needed monitoring.

At least for territories belonging to angels of the same rank within an archangel’s domain, or for the border between archangel territories. There were few to no controls for sub-territories of lower-ranking angels within their superior angel’s domain, like when going from a cherub’s territory to the main territory of the seraph under whom the cherub served, for example.

But in general, the border patrols were more of a way to tally traffic numbers. The angels in charge still liked to know who was coming and going and why, even if just for bragging rights. Look, my territory is more popular than yours.

As soon as I told the patrols who checked me that I was on a messenger run to Naamah, they waved me through, no questions asked. The clout she had was amazing.

It took me hours to get to her place. Through Derdekea’s territory, into Dahariel’s, then through that of another seraph, whose domain bordered a cherub’s in Archangel Gabriel’s dominion. Miles and miles of heavenly nature, meadows and rivers and lakes and rolling hills all infused with the breath of divinity, and I cared as much about it as I had about Hell’s apocalyptic scenery. The beauty I’d once thought so ethereally stunning now seemed hollow, my eyes seeing nothing but a facade for the same kind of cruelty and ruthlessness as I’d come to know in Hell.

Whoever believed angels to be all kind and gentle really should have paid more attention to how they’d been portrayed in early Christianity, before the more tamed, romanticized iterations of their public image had taken hold.

Because the former was a whole lot closer to the truth.

I almost sobbed with relief when the outline of the palace Naamah resided in came into view.

Refusing to claim a territory for herself and bind a veritable army of lower-ranking angels to her service, as was standard for a seraph of her power, Naamah had instead chosen to bunk down in Gabriel’s very own residence, much to his annoyance, as I’d heard. More than once, so the rumors went, Gabriel had offered her a sizable domain to please move out, only for Naamah to somehow seize more of his mansion for herself in response. Her ability to entrench herself in his home against his will while eschewing any hard consequences was as baffling as it was impressive.

The whole thing reminded me of a giant dog being pushed out of his bed inch by inch by the mere presence of a cat a third his size.

And apparently, it wasn’t an option for Gabriel to completely move out instead. Something about not losing face, I guessed. Or simply male stubbornness.

I’d always wondered why it seemed Gabriel was somehow on Naamah’s shit list. Now that I had my memories back and recalled the full tale of her backstory, I wondered no more.

Gabriel had been the one who’d granted Azrael’s pardon when he’d fled Hell.

Much like her son, Naamah could hold a grudge for millennia.

To be fair, though, she wasn’t even home all that much, so Gabriel didn’t have to contend with her disrupting the affairs of his estate all the time.

She had a habit of flitting around various territories and inconveniencing unsuspecting high-ranking angels with her impromptu visits—no one knew how to handle her, and she reveled in their discomfort. Was she supposed to be treated like a high-profile guest of honor though she held no formal titles? Would she be piqued if she didn’t receive the welcome fit for a seraph with her own territory, no matter the fact that she didn’t hold one despite her immense innate power? Or would she be affronted if they rolled out the metaphorical red carpet for her when all she wanted was to meander through the territory without being fussed over?

Matters were made worse by how Naamah changed her mind about this all of the time—naturally, without telling anyone beforehand. She had the unique talent of making powerful, millennia-old angels fall over themselves not to displease her, delighting in how they’d scramble to accommodate her.

And more often than not, after the lord or lady of the domain she visited had completely rearranged their schedule to wine and dine her, she’d end up in the stables instead, drinking round after round of amrit with the lower-ranking angels who worked there.

If chaos were a person, it’d be her.

I just hoped she’d be home this time. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to reach her, of maybe having to wait for her to return in order to talk to her about Azazel.

I landed outside the palace, a massive castle that looked gothically beautiful despite its size, courtesy of its various turrets, high-arched windows, and manifold carvings along the walls. As with the patrols, I got waved right on through by the staff at the entrance as soon as I mentioned Naamah’s name.

I walked through the huge double doors and into the cavernous lobby beyond, only to stop short at the sight of Gabriel. Archangel Gabriel, his power filling every nook and cranny of this room, a heavy press of strong magic against my skin. He was frowning at a missive in his hands, strands of his dark blond hair falling into his face, his golden tan glowing warmly in the light of the chandeliers.

I only stared at him for a second, then I went down on both knees, laid my hands on the floor, and touched my forehead to the cool marble. “Your Highness.”

“Rise,” he said, his voice sounding as if he’d barely paid attention to me. I wondered how many times a day lower-ranking angels threw themselves onto the floor to properly greet him. Didn’t it become tedious to keep having to tell them to get back to their feet?

This whole prostrating-out-of-deference thing was so ridiculous. A bunch of medieval bullshit, if you asked me, but of course, no one did ask me. I was a part of this stupid system, and I didn’t have enough power to tell them all to fuck off, so I had to play according to their rules.

I stood with more grace than I remembered having in my human life, which was a weird realization. I’d been an angel for years now, but since I hadn’t recalled anything from being mortal, I’d just taken the speed and fluidity of my new angel body for granted. Now that I remembered the weight of my human years, I marveled at the changes in how I could move.

“Oh,” Gabriel said, pulling my attention to him again. He’d finally deigned to look at me, his beautiful features pinched. “You’re one of hers, aren’t you?”

I frowned before understanding hit me. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m here to see Naamah. Is she home?”

His expression soured. “Unfortunately.”

Yesss. I sucked in a relieved breath. “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, I’ll go see her now.”

He nodded and muttered something under his breath that I didn’t catch, then threw over his shoulder as I raced past him, “Tell her to leave the drapes alone!”

Drapes?What was she up to now? The image of a cat climbing up curtains crossed my mind, and I barely suppressed my snicker.

A minute later, I skidded into the wing of the palace that Naamah had appropriated for herself. I followed the sound of voices and barged into what appeared to be a sitting room.

Naamah stood in the center, surrounded by swaths of fabric pooling on the rugs, currently holding something like a large sheet up in front of her, the ends trailing down to the floor. With a calculating gaze at the floor-length mirror opposite her, she threw one end of the long piece of cloth over her shoulder and smoothed the rest down her chest.

“What do you think?” she asked the female angel hovering nearby. “Too much purple?”

“Um…” the angel said with a grimace.

“You’re right.” Naamah tossed the drape aside. “Never been my color. Go get me the curtains from his library, those russet ones with the light blue pattern worked in. Should go well with my eyes.”

The angel did a curtsy and then hurried from the room, leaving Naamah to pick up another pilfered curtain from the floor. “Chaya,” she said with a smile, acknowledging me. “So good of you to stop by. Do you think this one would make a good pillowcase for this sofa?”

“They caught him,” I blurted. “Azazel.”

Naamah froze. For a moment, her gaze pinned me to the spot, then she flicked her hand. A spark of power, and the door behind me fell shut.

“You remember,” she said softly.

I gave a shaky nod.

“All of it?”

“Yes.” My voice was hoarse.

She closed her eyes briefly, heaving a sigh. “We didn’t know if it would ever happen.” When she looked at me again, her smile was filled with brilliant warmth. “It’s good to have you back, Zoe. Though, I suppose you remember our first meeting far better than I. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you since then.”

“They caught him,” I repeated with a crack in my voice, ignoring what she’d said because—hadn’t she heard me the first time? Whatever else there was to say between us, this took precedence! “I’d just figured out that he was a demon, and I had him at sword-point, and then these angels showed up, and they arrested him, and they think I apprehended him, and they even gave me a promotion for it, and I feel so sick, and I had to watch how they beat him up in front of me, but I couldn’t do anything, and then my memories came back, and now he’s in a dungeon somewhere, and they’re going to torture him, and when they’re done with that, they’ll kill him, and we have to get him out, we have to make a plan, you have to help me because I don’t know how?—”

“Zoe,” she interrupted me. “We don’t need to make a plan.”

I shut my mouth with an audible click and stared at her.

“I already have one,” she added with a smirk. At my no doubt baffled expression, she added, “Did you honestly think I’d set up my son’s infiltration of Heaven without making a contingency plan for the possibility he might be discovered and taken into custody?”

“Uh…” I swallowed. “That makes sense.”

“First, you need to sit down and calm yourself.”

She took me by the elbow and steered me over to one of the divans. With a flick of her hand, she summoned a bottle with golden liquid and a glass. I blinked as she poured me some and handed me the drink.

“Amrit?” I asked, staring at the swirling amber in the tumbler.

“For your nerves.”

Eight years up here as an angel, and I’d never tasted it. My one and only experience with the potent liquor had been that fateful moment at the Fall Festival in Hell, when Lucifer had made me drink an entire cup—as a human, for whom this drink was most definitely not intended.

My hand shook as I kept regarding the contents of the glass as if eyeing a snake.

“Ah,” Naamah said from where she sat on the sofa opposite me. “Right. I heard you had a rather unpleasant experience with it before.”

“Because your father thought it a good joke to drug me in front of his entire court,” I said with a clear undercurrent of resentment in my voice.

Naamah grimaced. “I won’t excuse his behavior. There is a streak of cruelty to him that I don’t condone. I’ll just say that he…was different in my youth. I know you might find it hard to believe, but he was a good father. Attentive, loving, with a penchant for mischief that was much like my own. We’d often laugh together.”

The way she talked about Lucifer echoed how Lilith had once described him, pointing to a less vicious version of him in the past. Not for the first time, I wondered what he’d truly been like back then, before eons of ruling Hell and having to kill all softer aspects of himself had warped him into something darker. I simply could not imagine him as anything but the cruel Devil he was now.

“Your past experience notwithstanding,” Naamah said, nodding at my glass, “this is perfectly fine for you to drink now. Believe me, it’ll help.”

I brought the glass to my lips and took a sip. The liquid prickled and warmed as it slid down my throat, the taste sweet with an edge.

Unlike last time I’d ingested amrit, it didn’t go straight to my head and fuck up my entire system. Instead, it only gave me a slight buzz, like a good wine. All right, this I could handle.

Naamah had summoned a glass for herself, too, and was sipping from it, her gaze on me pensive. “I know you’ll be impatient and want to storm in wherever he’s being held, but we only have one shot at this, and it must be well prepared. I’ve done the preliminary prep already, as much as was possible before he was even captured, but there are still a few wrinkles we need to iron out.”

My fingers tightened on my glass. “I don’t even know where they took him. Maybe in Derdekea’s dungeon? Or Dahariel’s?”

Naamah clucked her tongue and shook her head. “He won’t be with Dahariel. A smarter angel would have kept a demon invader under lock and key in his own mansion, made sure to have found out what kind of security leaks the demon took advantage of, and then patched those leaks before alerting his superiors, lest he lose his position of power as punishment for neglecting to keep his territory safe. But Dahariel is… How to put this delicately?” She tapped a finger against her lips and pretended to ponder the question. “He’s not the fastest flyer in the squad, if you catch my drift. He’s also a loyalist through and through, and he’ll have reported this to Raphael right away. Probably thinks he’ll be praised for catching a demon in his territory.” She shrugged. “He might be a seraph, but power, alas, does not equal intelligence.”

I raised my brows, impressed by her insider knowledge. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised—this was what Naamah did, and what she excelled at. Hidden behind her reputation as an eccentric troublemaker was a keen sense of reading people, as well as a vast network of spies and informants. And if she’d indeed organized Azazel’s stay here in Heaven over a long time of meticulous preparation, she’d have made sure to gather intel about all of the important angels in the territory he’d be hiding in, since that would be most likely where he’d be caught.

“No,” Naamah said, pulling me out of my thoughts, “Azazel will be in Raphael’s grasp. As soon as Dahariel told him, he’d have seized control of the situation and taken Azazel to a location close to his home. And he’ll keep it very quiet. I haven’t heard a peep about this before you told me just now, which goes to show how tight a lid Raphael is keeping on this.”

“Why?” I’d have thought the discovery of a demon trespasser in Heaven, which had never happened before, would be the biggest news ever, spreading through the gossip grapevine like wildfire. “Isn’t this something that concerns all of Heaven? I’d imagine the other archangels would be interested in getting to the bottom of this.”

“Oh, they absolutely would.” Her grin let her eyes sparkle. “Which is precisely why Raphael won’t tell them.”

“Huh?”

“Politics, my dear.” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s all about optics and reputation and controlling the narrative. What does it say about the competence of an archangel when the only case of a demon ever sneaking into Heaven happened on their turf? What I told you about Dahariel also applies to Raphael, with the difference being that Raphael is a whole lot smarter than Dahariel. Which means Raphael wants to make sure no word of a demon infiltrating his territory will make it to the other archangels before he has found out how that demon did it and can fix whatever needs fixing in his security measures. Otherwise, the other archangels might have cause to remove him from his position.”

“They could do that?”

She nodded. “Holding a certain rank is not just about power. With an archangel in particular, their standing and claim to their position can be dependent on how well the other archangels accept them. Not to mention Metatron and Shekinah may step in to calm an uproar about hierarchy.”

I raised my brows and pressed my lips together at that. The two topmost angels in Heaven—even more powerful and influential than the archangels—rarely showed themselves, let alone got involved in day-to-day dealings of politics and such. From what I’d heard, they’d been directly appointed as God’s proxies once upon a time, before God had withdrawn somewhere beyond reach. Rumor had it that God was still in the realm of Heaven, his divine energy flowing through every part of this world, but that he’d retreated to a closed-off dominion that not even Metatron and Shekinah could enter.

They’d been ruling Heaven in his stead for millennia, kind of like the supreme power couple. I’d never met them, and I’d rather not draw their scrutiny.

“So, if Raphael has Azazel in his dungeon,” I said, bringing the conversation back to the important aspects, “how do we get him out? I can only imagine how tight the security will be.”

Naamah laughed. “Oh, honey, we don’t have dungeons up here.”

I blinked at her.

She gave me an indulgent smile. “I like how much of Hell is still in you. No, there are no dungeons in Heaven because angels, in general, are not a rule-breaking bunch. The few transgressions that do happen do not warrant anything like jail time. We punish our own by revoking privileges, demoting them, and giving them the most god-awful tasks.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. She was…right. In all my time up here, I’d never heard of anyone being sentenced to a prison of any sort. But punishments relating to rank were quite common.

“Anyway,” Naamah continued, “I have a good idea where Raphael would put someone he’d want to torture for information without it drawing attention—his soul stables.”

“What?”

She tilted her head. “Think about it. Buildings with thousands of individual rooms for each soul in his care, and every chamber is magically sealed and soundproof in order for the afterlife projections not to interfere with each other. It’s the best place to stuff a demon whose screams of pain from the interrogation you need to hide because you want to keep his existence on a need-to-know basis.”

I winced at the mental picture she’d painted, my heart unable not to feel the suffering I could all too well imagine. I swallowed hard. “You seem so detached, the way you talk about this.”

“What good would it do to let my heart bleed right now, Zoe?” Her features were hard. “What use would it be to him if I let emotion fuck up the clarity I need to plan the necessary steps to free him? He is much better served by cool detachment that gets the fucking job done than by my weeping.”

I took a deep breath, letting her words hit the parts of me that were about to fall into panic yet again, allowing her rebuke to harden me. “You’re right.”

She gave a single nod of acknowledgment. “I strongly suspect Raphael keeps him in one of his stables somewhere, but I don’t have confirmation of where exactly. I have loyal people in Raphael’s employ, and things are set up for distractions and weakening security if I give the signal, but we need to know in which stable Azazel is being held. That was one of the wrinkles I still needed to iron out in my plan, but what you told me earlier should facilitate that.”

I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

Leaning forward, she pinned me with a look. “You said they think you apprehended him?”

I nodded, my stomach souring. “He’d lost control of his demon energy, and I realized he wasn’t an angel. That was before my memories came back, so I acted on instinct and charged him. I held him with my sword at his chest while he told me…everything.” I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “When Derdekea and Dahariel showed up with half a dozen angels, they saw me with my blade poised to strike him, and they figured I’d caught and confronted him.” My hand holding the glass trembled. “Derdekea even congratulated me for doing such a good job. And they promoted me to throne.”

Naamah narrowed her eyes, a calculating expression on her face. “Good. We can use that.”

“How?”

“You will convince Derdekea to help you join the ranks of the angels in charge of Azazel’s torture.”

I reared back and almost dropped my glass. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t need to actually torture him,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You just need them to take you where they hold him at least one time so you’ll know the location and can scope out the layout of the place. Once you know that, we can kick off the extraction as soon as possible.”

“Why would they let me in there? How am I supposed to convince Derdekea to allow me access?”

“You’ll need to play the role of ambitious up-and-coming angel.” She pointed at me with the hand holding her glass, her index finger extended and wiggling in my direction. “Your reputation just got a huge boost from your supposed capture of the first demon to ever infiltrate Heaven. That’s big, and you need to capitalize on that. Sure, they promoted you for it, but you have to act like that’s not enough. You want more, you are ready for more, you’ve got amazing potential, and they’ll be stupid not to put your talent and instincts to good use. You sniffed this demon out, and you deserve a spot on the team that gets to work on him. Remember that ambition gets rewarded here in Heaven, and if you show drive as well as talent and skill, they’ll nurture that.”

I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. After a moment, I managed to gather words. “Have you met me?” I asked with a squeak in my voice. “What makes you think I can pull off a feat of acting like that? I stumble over my own words at the best of times!”

“You underestimate yourself.” She tilted her head. “I have full confidence that you can perform under pressure.”

“Well, I can try, but I have to warn you—I can’t hit a note to save my life, and I really don’t remember all the lyrics, so I will make up some random words at some point during the song.”

The look she gave me was half indulgent, half amused. “See? That’s what I mean. Don’t ever think you don’t have any talent for pivoting on the spot. You are good with words, Zoe, especially when it counts.”

“You’ve never seen me try to order food on the phone, then,” I muttered.

The corners of her mouth twitched up. “You are resourceful and quick-witted. Don’t worry. You’ve got this. Just channel your fear for him and your determination to save him into the ambition you need to show to get yourself a spot on Raphael’s torture team. The fact that he wants to keep this hush-hush works in your favor here. He won’t want to involve too many angels in order to keep this secret, which means he’ll try to keep the team small, but he’ll also need a certain number of angels to be on watch duty and to rotate in and out of the torture sessions. You have the advantage that you’re already privy to the fact that a demon was caught—you apprehended him, after all. By allowing you on the team, Raphael gets one more angel to do his dirty work without having to bring someone into the loop who doesn’t yet know about the demon.”

“Damn, you’re good,” I murmured.

Her smirk was all sorts of wicked. “You do remember who my father is, don’t you?”

“All too well,” I grumbled.

“It’s settled, then.” She leaned back, crossing her legs. “You’ll go ask Derdekea for a leg up by vouching for you to join Raphael’s torture team. Remember to play up your hunger to prove yourself and to jump on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of having caught a demon invader and wanting to make the most of it. The higher-ups are always looking for driven angels who display potential for growth and power coupled with unshakable loyalty. Angels aren’t much different from demons in that way. Make them understand that you’d be wasted on anything but a fast track to more authority, and that Raphael will gain by training you better.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my fluttering nerves. All right, I could do this.

For Azazel, I could—would—do anything.

I’d crawled before Lucifer for him, and I’d willingly walked into torture for him as well.

I would damn sure be able to banish my social anxiety long enough to act my way into his prison.