We all went into Samael's unlocked and unwarded home. I thought that was rather trusting, but then if you live in Heaven, theft isn't really an issue. Still, it made me doubt that we would find anything incriminating there.
Locating the study was easy enough; we found a wood-paneled room that looked straight out of a Dickens novel. The furniture was hand-carved, the carpet deep green, and the drapes were a depressing mauve. It was sinister in the dark, but as soon as Az clicked on the desk lamp, a warm glow made it welcoming and even cozy.
Azrael sat in a high-backed leather chair behind Samael's desk and started rooting through desk drawers. The rest of us went around the room to search through the bookshelves that lined nearly every wall.
“Are these all journals?” I asked as I perused the neat rows of identical leather books; each one labeled with a year. “Whoa; this one says 38 AD.”
I started to pull out the book, but Odin stopped me.
“We don't have time to read through the angel's life,” Odin pushed the journal back in. “We have no idea how long Luke will be able to delay Samael.”
“Yeah, okay,” I huffed in disappointment.
“I found his current journal,” Azrael said as he lifted a book up for us to see.
“Well that was fast.” Trevor went to peer over Azrael's shoulder.
“It was in the center drawer.” Azrael shrugged as he perused the entries. “Here's the fight. It says 'Lilith and I had a terrible argument, and she has gone to stay with our third daughter, Gello.”
“Gello is Lilith's daughter?” I asked in shock.
“Yes,” Azrael wouldn't meet my gaze.
“What am I missing?” Odin asked.
“Well”—I smirked—“Gello is Holly's best friend, and she was also Azrael's first crush.”
Trevor chuckled. “Diggin' on the demon girls, eh?”
“She's a lovely woman,” Azrael huffed defensively.
“Named after a jiggly dessert,” I added with a giggle.
“Now, that's not fair, Vervain,” Ira chided me. “Gello couldn't possibly be named after the gelatin dish; she was born centuries before its creation. The dessert must have been named after her.”
“For obvious reasons,” Sam added with a jiggling motion around his chest.
We burst out laughing; all except for Azrael, who only rolled his eyes.
“Yes, fine,” Azrael said. “She's a curvaceous woman.”
“She's the Jessica Rabbit of demons,” I said. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”
“And you have a similar form, Carus,” Azrael said with an appreciative smile. “Now, can we get back to this journal?”
“Sorry, Az.” Trevor thumped Azrael's back. “Does it say why they argued?”
“Not precisely,” Azrael read further. “Just that it was a monumental issue. Samael has a talent for being overly descriptive without saying much at all.”
We all stared at each other tiredly; Samael was looking more and more guilty.
“There you are,” Ted huffed as he came into the room. “I just talked to an angel who said that he saw Lilith leaving in a huff; Samael and her had—”
“Yeah; we know.” Ira rolled his eyes. “I think we have all we're going to get out of this heaven.”
“Time to go to Hell,” I declared.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gello had a little place down the street from Cid's house in the Inferno district. Evidently, Hell had a suburbs. Not too surprising when you consider what life in a suburb is like. But this suburb was full of mansions, and the metropolis it skirted was formed of ice blocks. I don't know if that made it better or worse than those in America.
“This is fucking creepy,” Trevor whispered as we stood at an iron gate in front of Gello's house.
The sky was a normal indigo, but there was a clear line in the distance where it shifted to burnt cinnabar. Oddly enough, the rusty sky was lighter and brighter than the night sky in the suburbs of Hell. Most of Luke's Hell existed under that wounded sky, and now that I was thinking about it, I realized that it was always dimly lit; neither night nor day. But there in Demonville, the sky had darkened as it should, and the night was lit by vintage iron streetlamps. The streets and sidewalks were immaculate; with neatly manicured trees lining the lanes. Couples ambled by holding hands, birds cooed in the trees, and crickets chirped. Night-blooming flowers—planted in the flower beds to either side of Gello's gate—perfumed the air. It was all so painfully normal.
“There are cars in Hell?” I asked Azrael.
“Only in the Durbs,” he said. “Dad won't allow them anywhere else; he says it ruins the ambiance.”
“The Durbs?” Odin asked.
“The Demon suburbs,” Azrael explained as he hit the button on a panel set into the wall.
“Of course,” Odin rolled his peacock-colored eyes.
“Azrael!” Gello exclaimed after her face appeared on a little screen. “Whatcha doing here, darlin'?”
“I need to talk to you... and your mother,” Azrael said. “Is she there?”
“Yeah.” Gello frowned; her poison-green eyes crinkling at the corners; the shade of her eyes was darker than Samael's but they still reminded me of him. “Why do you want to talk to my mom?”
“It has something to do with the Virtues attacking me,” Az said gently. “Have you heard about all that?”
“Yeah; that shit is fucked up,” she growled. “Come on in, honey. If we can help, we will.”
The gate buzzed and parted for us. We strode up a winding drive, past a red Ferrari, to the front door of a Gone With the Wind mansion. Elaborate gardens stretched out to either side and back from the house; lit by more iron lampposts. The front door opened before we finished climbing the steps, and Gello came out to hug Azrael. She was thankfully in her human form instead of her winged, cloven-footed, barbed-tailed, demon one.
“Vervain!”
