“You do realize that you and the Magic Eaters worship the same deities,” Damiel pointed out to her.
A deep frown furrowed her brow. “What are you saying?”
“My statement was perfectly clear.”
“The Magic Eaters are heathens,” she hissed. “They don’t worship deities or build temples in their honor. They construct only large fortresses where they hoard their stolen treasures.”
“They say the same about you,” Damiel told her.
“Those buildings where the Magic Eaters keep their relics, like the daggers—those are their temples,” I added. “And in those temples, they worship the Immortals, or the Undying as you call them. Perhaps if you spoke to the Magic Eaters, you’d find that you have a lot more in common than you’d ever imagined.”
Naida’s face twisted in disgust. Her nose crinkled up like she’d smelled bad eggs. She looked thoroughly insulted, horrified by the idea that her people shared anything in common with the Magic Eaters, those they had fought for so many years.
She glanced at the sword of daggers in my hand. “It seems to be the will of the Undying that you two came here, that you would save us, that you would claim the daggers.”
The Hive really did have a lot in common with the Magic Eaters. Both were completely devoted to following their deities’ will, or at least what they believed to be their deities’ will. If they would just put their few minor differences between them, they could work together. They could be friends, not enemies.
I told Naida that.
“We have been fighting them for so long,” she replied. “Many lives have been lost. It will take time for both sides to put that behind us.”
“But you will put it behind you?”
“We’ll see. For now, we must concentrate on repairing relations closer to home.”
She was referring to the rebels and their fight against the Magic Collective.
“All this trouble with the rebellion could have been avoided if you’d only been honest about the true reason the Collective whisked all supernaturals away to the temples,” Damiel pointed out sensibly.
“We didn’t want to create widespread panic,” Naida said.
“Or someone in your organization did not want to share power.”
Naida frowned at him. “You are very cynical, aren’t you?”
“Of course. That’s my job.”
Rushing footsteps echoed on the stairs. I turned to find Grant standing frozen in the doorway to the Depository. When we’d broken the Hive’s magic, we’d also knocked out all the wards around the building.
“The battle is over,” Damiel told the rebel leader. “And so is the war.”
Grant watched his sister like he couldn’t believe she was right there in front of him.
“You want to heal your world,” I told Naida. “Start with him. Tell your brother the truth about what you’ve been doing all these years.”
Cold fury burned in Damiel’s eyes. “You lied to us.”
We were standing face-to-face with the Magic Eater priest Illias inside his home on Nightingale.
Jiro had already returned to New York, curtesy of a passage I’d whipped up with the Diamond Tear.
“You sent us to the Hive’s world to do your work for you,” Damiel continued. “We know you and the Hive have been stealing the daggers from each other for years.”
“Our conflict with the Hive is complicated.” Illias spread his hands wide, a gesture meant to defuse the situation.
Apparently, no one had ever told him that fancy hand gestures weren’t up to the task of defusing an angel.
“Complicated?” Damiel repeated. The word burned like dry ice. “You told us your people were not able to infiltrate the Hive’s fortress. That you had never done such a thing.”
“That is no lie,” replied the priest. “The Hive has recently upgraded their defenses. Since then, our forces have been unable to penetrate them.”
“You used us, spinning a lie that the Hive would attack Earth if we didn’t stop them.”
“It was a logical assumption, considering your previous encounter with them.”
A low, angry growl buzzed in Damiel’s throat. “You played us for fools.”
“Not fools. We simply appealed to your humanity.”
“We are angels. We gave up our humanity long ago.” Damiel turned his back on the priest and looked at me. “Come on. We’re going.”
“You took the Hive’s daggers.” Illias’s eyes fell on the five daggers Damiel and I carried.
“We didn’t take anything,” I told him. “They gave them to us freely.”
A crinkle formed between his eyes. “Why?”
“Because like you, they believe us to be the heirs to the Immortal Legacy. Because, you see, they too worship the same Immortals as you do.”
“Impossible,” Illias hissed, just as vehemently as Naida had rejected the revelation.
“The Hive knows the Immortals by a different name: the Undying,” I said. “But they are the same deities. You might want to get to know the Hive. To reconcile your differences.”
“Reconciliation is impossible.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to reevaluate your obstinance,” Damiel told him.
“What do you mean?” Fear crept into Illias’s voice.
“We’ve closed all passages from your world to others, except the one to the Hive’s world.”
“You can’t do this,” the priest spluttered. “You can’t trap us here like this, cut off from everyone else.”
Damiel straightened. His formidable presence seemed to fill the whole room. “You don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”
The priest took a step back.
“If you want to visit another world, visit the Hive’s world,” said Damiel. “If you play nice, they might even allow you to use their magic mirrors.”
“You reopened their magic mirrors?” Illias gasped. “That is a mistake! They will destroy your world!”
“No, they will not,” Damiel said flatly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we saved theirs. And…” he added, glancing at me, “…we have faith.”
“Your faith in the Hive is misplaced. They will come for you.”
“If they do, I will be waiting.”
Damiel and I turned to go.
Illias moved in front of us, blocking our way. “You can’t leave us isolated like this.”
“If you wanted mercy, you shouldn’t have played us for fools,” Damiel told him coldly.
That was Angel Philosophy 101.
“If you behave yourselves, we might come back to let you out of cosmic purgatory,” Damiel said. “After a century or two.”
I returned us to Earth, to Storm Castle. This time, we didn’t land on my bed. We ended up in my office, just as I’d intended, one of us on either side of my big wooden desk. Damiel just stood there, not saying a word, but watching my every move.
“You sure gave Illias the angels’ justice,” I finally said to break the uneasy silence. The air was so heavy with unspoken things that I wasn’t sure even an immortal blade could have cut through the tension.