I wanted to hear more about her, but I wasn’t going to interrupt him again.
“Yvonne saw it happen. She’d been hiding in the forest, watching the battle. We lost, badly. But when the battle ended, Yvonne crept out of the trees where she’d been hiding. She started to heal the wounded angels, one by one. But I was in the worst shape, and it took me months to recover. We stayed friends after that.”
My towel had started to fall down—which Samael noticed—and I tugged it up. “Just friends?”
“I wasn’t exactly her type.”
I nodded. “Arrogant and bloodthirsty?”
“She didn’t like males in that way. Stop interrupting. We stayed friends, but mortals did not view her as kindly as I did. They thought she was a witch.” For a moment, I thought I saw the faintest hint of burning chains writhing around him. “Your kind has an amazing propensity for cruelty.”
I was about to point out the bodies he hung from the castle walls, but I kept my mouth shut.
“For reasons I don’t remember, angels were not allowed to teach mortals our celestial secrets,” he said. “I suppose you weren’t to be trusted. But I wanted her to learn to protect herself in case the witch finders came for her, so I taught her the secrets of warfare, celestial combat. That was when I fell. But I don’t remember much before the fall. It was taken from me.”
He went silent, looking down at his tea. When he met my gaze, his gray eyes had a deeply forlorn expression that made my throat tighten. “That’s the thing about being Fallen. We want to tell things to mortals, and to …” His sentence faded out. “Well, others do.”
“What does it mean to fall?” I asked.
Something in his face looked lost. And that was insane, because he was the Angel of Death. He didn’t need to be protected.
He frowned, staring at me over his mug of tea. “Once you fall, you forget most things. You forget meaning. Mostly it’s a sense of having once been whole, but now being broken. But I vaguely remember that the things I used to do had meaning, and that once I didn’t worry about right and wrong. I remember that lacerating sense of loss when I fell, like my soul was ripped out. I was empty. Nothing meant anything, and no one meant anything. After I fell, often rage overtook me, and I wanted to destroy, to crush people into dust. I was trying to heal myself through death, to restore my glory as the Venom of God.”
His eyes had taken on a haunted look, then a muscle flexed in his jaw. “After I fell, I remember watching Yvonne die, but I couldn’t remember her name, or how I knew her. I’d forgotten language. It seemed she was too gentle to use the celestial art of fighting that I’d taught her, so the witch finders captured her. They tied her to a stake, and lit the bottom, but her feet were burning for so long, and her legs. It took a long time. I remember that. Something about her screams got through the haze and made my heart race. I couldn’t stop staring as she burned, and part of me hated it but I couldn’t think of what to do … So I just watched. She must have wondered why I wasn’t helping her, because she could see me there. I think she was screaming my name.” His voice sounded ragged. “It’s just that it went on so long.”
He met my gaze again, and the firelight danced over the perfect planes of his face. “I remember who I am now. I am the Venom of God. I cut down those who perpetuate the evil of man. That is my purpose. And when I unite the Fallen, we will bring order to the chaos of mortals.”
A chill rippled over my body, and my breaths had gone shallow. I stared at my beautiful enemy.
I sipped my tea, and the earthy flavor rolled over my tongue. “But don’t you ever worry that you’ve got it wrong? That you’re slaughtering the wrong person?”
A flicker of confusion in his eyes, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he spoke a single word in Angelic, and the lights went out again.
In the dark, I drank the rest of my tea. When it was finished, I curled up naked with the blanket over me. I’d never felt anything so soft against my skin, like the softest rabbit’s paw covering my body. And the sofa beneath me—velvety pillows, the fabric exquisite. Completely exhausted, it wasn’t long until sleep crept over me.
But when I slept, I dreamt I was plummeting into the churning Dark River. I was slipping deeper under the surface. I thrashed in the water, forcing my way to the top again, and when I breached the surface, I was staring up at the scaffold outside the castle walls.
Instead of the Free Man, it was Alice kneeling, her head down. Samael stood above her. He was bare chested, terrifying gold tattoos sweeping over his face and arms. Flames danced in his eyes, and dark wings cascaded behind him. Chains of fire writhed over his body.
Alice put her head on the block, and I kept screaming for her to stop. To stand up.
The sight made my mind go blank with fear. He was Death and mortals were never meant to behold him, we were never meant to understand that he was coming for us all. This was the knowledge that angels never should have passed on.
The weight of grief pulled me back under the water, until a sharp and icy darkness enveloped me.
As I slept fitfully, the cold went down right to my bones, made my teeth chatter. I felt as if frost were spreading on my skin, until something warm and heavy covered me, like an embrace.
I woke to find that although I was still naked, a second blanket covered me. Warm and heavy. I pulled it up to my chin, wanting to stay in its softness for longer. Sunlight streamed in through tall, narrow windows between the stacks of books.
When I eventually stood, I found that my nightgown and cloak had dried overnight, and the fire had been lit again.
I also found clothing laid out on his bed. Women’s clothing, from the previous room, and the children’s reading book. I dressed, then cracked open the book.
Now, I had some serious tasks on my agenda for the day: practice reading, find Finn to get a message to him.
And seduce Samael. It would make him mortal, for a time. I didn’t know how long, exactly. A minute? A month? Perhaps I’d have to keep him in a permanently mortal state. Just in case I needed to murder him.
27
Lila
Dressed in a knee-length gray dress with a cute white collar, I stood outside the count’s office. All morning, I’d stayed in his library, working on my first task. Literacy.
Because if I was going to be some kind of double agent, working with the resistance, it would help to be able to read and write messages.
With food and coffee laid out before me, I’d practiced reading, sounding out little words over and over. Sourial had come by with more children’s books, and papers with short words I was supposed to memorize: the, and, so. It was difficult, but I was enjoying it.
Although I was far from reading the enormous volumes stacked around the library, I was not bloody terrible at it so far. I’d even worked out some simple sentences with minimal gnashing of teeth.
But now I had to get to my second task for the day: finding Finn to pass on a message.
I knocked on Samael’s door again, waiting for a response.
I had a reasonable pretext for needing to leave the castle. They've given me a million dresses and a cloak. I had all the food I needed, all the wine I needed.