Metal sang as Pierce unsheathed one of his blades. He pointed it at Nuriel, the blond one, the one that liked to smile. “What the hell are you two buzzards doing here? Didn’t we kick your asses hard enough the last time?”
Nuriel’s laughter tinkled like shards of ice in the clearest water. “Trust a demon to be so profane. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, incubus? That is, assuming you’ve ever met her.”
Pierce flinched, stunned into silence. I was disconcerted, too, not exactly by the insult, which had an unfortunate ring of truth to it due to Pierce never actually having met his mother. No, the fact that this Nuriel knew exactly the type of demon he was – that was going to be a problem.
“You appear to have us confused for common vermin,” said Baradiel. “A stake through the heart doesn’t kill angels.” He unbuttoned his shirt, smirking as he exposed unblemished, uninjured skin where the broken plank had run him completely through.
Crystal wrestled her way between me and Pierce, coming in for a closer look, but also, it seemed, eager to get involved in the fight. “Will someone explain to me what’s going on here?” She cast her finger out, pointing at the brothers. “Who the hell are these assholes?”
“Angels,” I said, after deliberating how to distill the essence of the threat. “Dangerous ones. I speared that one in the chest and it’s still walking.”
Baradiel’s laughter was darker than his brother’s, more mocking and menacing. “Surely you know well enough of how things work with regards to the heavenly host. You cannot kill us so easily.” He made a shallow, taunting bow, giving an exaggerated flourish with his hand. “And we fully acknowledge that the same applies to you, heir of Asmodeus.”
Fuck.
Crystal shook me by the arm, her eyes huge as she demanded an answer. “Excuse me. Hello? Did he say heir of Asmodeus? You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, mister.”
“Later,” I growled, curling my fingers as I prepared what little magic I still had left. “If we survive.”
Nuriel cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? If you survive? Did you hear that, brother? One wonders if the princeling’s mixed heritage makes him, how to put it – more vulnerable to terminal conditions.”
Pierce adjusted his grip on his daggers as we exchanged uncertain glances. Not to boast, but we were that good at our jobs. We’d never had to resort to the shame of a common demon goon, of having our mortal husks killed and our essences returned to one of the prime hells, waiting to re-form. But things were different now.
Dantaleon’s voice boomed over us all. “My charges will come to no harm at your hands, little birds.” He joined our midst, his pages suffused with wisps of pale light. “But do not let my presence concern you. The princeling and his vassal are talented enough on their own to eviscerate the pair of you.”
I stared at him in awe, shocked at his rare, once-in-a-millennium utterance of an actual compliment. Crystal made a noise of frustration as she threw her hands out. “Princeling? Vassal? Are you guys serious? Why was I feeding you beans if you’re all so rich? And who is this book supposed to be, anyways?”
As one, Pierce, Dantaleon, and I hissed at her. “Later.”
She bared her teeth at us, annoyed, but evidently more concerned with the presence of the celestials. “Fine,” she said, her fingers curling with plumes of amethyst flame. “But you jerks are paying me back, and then some.”
“So much argumentation,” Nuriel said, his smile as bright as the sky. “Such chaos. Very much expected from you barbaric infernal types, no?”
Pierce drew a second blade. “Tell us why you’re here so we can spill your guts and toss your corpses in the river.”
“Retribution,” Baradiel said quickly. “You destroyed our base of operations, and it only feels correct to return the favor.” He cocked his head at an angle, sizing up the abandoned building that I’d only just accepted as our new home. “Considering the state of this place, though, it doesn’t seem as if we’ll need to do much to raze it to its foundations.”
From beside me, Crystal made a sound very much like low growling.
“You were leading those humans on,” I said, “planting one of your own among them. What is the Thirteenth Choir, anyway? A cult? And where is your other brother?”
Nuriel’s smile dropped, and he shook his head. “Poor Adriel, once an angel of death, now nothing more than a grounded bird. Our brother lost his wings, but he serves the cause by staying with our followers, by being our voice, and their beacon. And how we tend to our flock is, similarly, something that will forever remain beyond your understanding. The Thirteenth Choir is merely an assembly of poor farmers eager to see fair weather throughout the seasons. Baradiel and I ensure that this is made reality, that no snow or hail comes to freeze or kill anything before it is time for harvest. It is an exchange of acts of service. Nothing more. An exchange of faith and love.”
Pierce scoffed. “So this is a vanity project?”
“No,” I said. “It’s blackmail. You want them to worship you, and in return, you won’t blight their crops with inclement weather.”
Baradiel gave a loud, clipped guffaw. “Then the princeling is not so stupid as he looks.”
“Last thing I am is stupid,” I said, raising my chin at him, relishing the idea of scorching his face with my bare hands. “Going around the countryside and looking for your own worshippers hardly sounds like angelic behavior, boys. Very sacrilegious, in fact. No, the two of you just want the worship for yourselves.”
Nuriel smiled. “We are still in service of heaven’s prime directive. Are we not made in the Creator’s image, after all? I fail to see the problem. The source or form of worship does not matter in
