Angelus Read online

  Sophia screamed.

  The decanter disappeared in a flash of bright purple light. It reappeared and dropped to the ground behind Kim, smashing into pieces.

  “That was for making me wait,” Python said coolly. “You should be grateful. I changed my mind about embedding the shards in your forehead, boy. Now,” he said, examining his dark nails. He slowly turned his gaze back to Kim and Sophia. “Where, pray tell, is the Archon?”

  Kim stared back at the demon unflinchingly, trying to regain his bravery as Python’s eyes burned down to his soul. “There was no way to persuade Angela into leaving her mansion tonight. Besides, she would have never agreed to meet you. Your reputation—”

  “Isn’t a pleasant one?” Python said. “Perhaps I should have shown my face at the Councils since Lucifel escaped Hell. It sounds like the Archon has the wrong idea about me. I hope you haven’t said anything incriminating?”

  Kim held his tongue. Wrong idea? If Angela remembered even half of what Python had put her through, she would have rode a Kirin to his mansion to cage him herself.

  Sophia took another deep breath. Her delicate hand played nervously with her jeweled pendant. A long silence fell, and once again the chilling hiss that met their ears earlier seemed to echo from everywhere at once. Sophia’s eyes widened, but she still said nothing. Her gaze fixed on Python and remained riveted there, as if the moment she looked askance he would disappear in a cloud of violet smoke.

  “Well, we don’t need Angela Mathers’s physical presence . . . yet,” Python said. He looked pointedly at Kim, and his words softened. “All we need is something important that links one of you to her.” He examined the pendant at Sophia’s chest.

  She stepped backward, gasping.

  “Is that still such an important necklace to you, dear?” Python leaned in closer and whispered in her ear.

  Sophia wrapped her hand around the pendant even more tightly.

  “Because I know the Archon wears one just like it. How very quaint and sweet. Two friends who share a special bond decided to exchange matching necklaces. That will do nicely. In fact, it’s just too perfect. Lend it to me. I promise you’ll get your trinket back in one piece.” Python held out his hand. The scales on his fingers glistened.

  Sophia hesitated.

  Kim would never know what memories the pendant symbolized, but for Sophia to be unsure even now about parting with it certainly meant something special. He turned aside, feeling the sudden pain in his heart like a lance. He’d admit it—he was jealous.

  “Love,” Python whispered.

  Kim looked up at the demon again. “What?”

  Python held Sophia’s white sapphire pendant so that it swung on its chain, clasped between his fingers. “Everyone wants love, but so few attain it. I mean that unconditional love that crosses every boundary of space and time. Do you know what I think?” Python smiled at Kim. “I think that was what drove Lucifel mad. She couldn’t escape her feelings, and they devoured her soul. Now, she seeks to silence all feeling. Now, she wants to open Raziel’s Book, to take the power within, to end the lives that mock her despair. It’s such a grand, tragic thing—love. Sometimes, it’s so grand, it can clip even the greatest angel’s wings.”

  The demon threw the necklace in the air and snatched it back with a hand.

  “Now we can get to work.”

  Python walked back up the stairs. He clapped his hands once and the throne he’d been seated upon vanished in a purplish mist, only to reappear as a long, flat, onyx altar. Ominous carvings of Hounds and serpents twisted around its pillar-shaped legs. Python slid a hand against its dark stone. “Now, listen carefully, boy. With this necklace, I can summon Angela Mathers here, body and soul. But that’s the easy part. Returning someone’s memories requires more of a connection. Memories are a part of someone’s spirit. Losing them is like a death, no matter how small. And there are very few ways to bring the dead back to life . . . successfully.” Python finally lost his false smile. “Angela Mathers’s life force must connect to another’s forever.”

  As Python allowed those words to sink in, Kim watched the demon pull another decanter, a bag of red sand, and an hourglass from the ether.

  Python set the objects down on the altar and stretched, supporting himself with both hands spread against the stone.

  “What’s the catch?” Kim said.

  Python cocked his head. “Catch?”

  “I mean, what do you get out of this? Why even bother to help?”

  “It really doesn’t matter what I ultimately get out of it,” Python said coolly. “Because I’m all you have right now. Correct? Besides, I’m not a fool. Even I know the Book of Raziel needs to be opened. The Archon will have to remember how to do it quickly.”

  Sophia gripped Kim’s hand hard. She looked into his eyes, breathing fast. “Wait,” she whispered.

  He turned to her, peering at her sharply. “What? Are you changing your mind?” he whispered back.

  “I just need to talk to you first.”

  “Can you give us a moment . . . alone?” Kim turned away and said to Python.

  “You get a moment,” Python said. “You don’t get it alone. Make your little chat quick.”

  Kim and Sophia edged to the shadows of the long hall. “You know he’s up to something,” she said.

  “Of course Python’s up to something. But does it really matter anymore?”

  “Going behind Angela’s back like this isn’t right!”

  “And would she agree to come here on her own?”

  Sophia went silent. She sighed.

  “Exactly.”

  “Kim, he knows that you’re the only person here who can connect your life force with Angela’s. I can’t—I . . .”

  She didn’t need to explain. Though she looked human, Sophia was not alive in the sense that Kim was alive. Perhaps she didn’t even have an aura at all. Troy’s past comments suggested as much.

  Kim let out a shuddering sigh as he thought of his Jinn cousin.

  He could feel his hands shaking as he pushed the hair from his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to do this, Kim,” Sophia said. She looked at him with eyes glazed by tears. “We’ll find another way to help Angela.”

  “No. We won’t. I’ve made up my mind. If it’s for her, it’s worth whatever happens to me next.”

  “Kim, wait—”

  He had to walk away from Sophia, otherwise he just might rethink everything. Still, he could feel her anguish like it was wrapping around his chest, squeezing the breath out of him. “I’ll volunteer,” Kim said, returning before the altar to Python. He heard his voice crack painfully.

  Python didn’t laugh, but the sound hid within the shadows of his words. “Of course you will.”

  Python dangled the necklace above the altar.

  Kim and Sophia stood by his side, wordless. Sophia especially looked distraught. Her face was ghastly and pale. Kim swallowed hard, trying to concentrate as Python had requested. Then, a blazing purple light flashed all around them before condensing back to a single point below the necklace’s swinging pendant. Kim almost forgot to breathe as Angela’s shadow appeared, and slowly her sleeping form materialized from a heavy purplish mist.

  In seconds she lay on the altar, her entire body limp, and her mouth slack.

  She looked dead, but her chest still rose and fell with her breaths. Kim breathed with her again, his heart thrumming. She was so beautiful. The pendant that matched Sophia’s glittered on the pale skin below her neck. Even with Angela’s arms and legs blotched where her cruel-looking burn scars were exposed, she’d never seemed lovelier. The minuscule jewels on her black satin gown shimmered like stars.

  Her practiced regality as the Archon seemed like a dream as Kim stared at her face.

  For once, it seemed she wasn’t having one of her terrible and confusing visions.

  It felt like a sin to break that peace. Python was the first to have the courage to do so. Slowly, he began to circ
le Angela’s body, tracing along its contours with his fingers, muttering softly. A strange, admiring expression lit up his face.

  Kim set his jaw.

  He tried to push Python’s hand aside, knowing it was a stupid thing to do, but unable to hold back.

  The demon offered a nasty glare. “Do the smart thing and stay out of my way,” Python whispered. “I don’t have to do a thing for her, you know.”

  Sophia said nothing. She only stared down at Angela with tearful eyes. Once, she looked up at Kim again and searched his face as if hoping against hope that he might change his mind, and a miracle would happen, and Angela would awaken on her own with her memories fully restored. And because they both knew the truth, she looked away just as quickly and stroked Angela’s cheek.

  All too swiftly, Python was done with his ritual. He straightened and tousled his mop of hair. “There. She’ll remain asleep as long as the ritual lasts, and possibly for another night. But her spirit is unusually resistant to any kind of mental barrier being broken; the typical spells aren’t going to work.” He looked askance at Sophia. “It seems the time has come for you to be helpful again. I need the Angelus.”

  Another long silence.

  “How do you know about that?” Sophia said, her voice shaking.

  Kim swallowed hard. A thick tension filled the echoing air of the room. For the first time in a while, he felt another presence in the hall. A familiar iciness crept through his entire body. Someone else was watching what took place.

  “Every ancient angel knows the Angelus melody,” Python said. “The Supernal Israfel was the first to sing it. Supposedly, he learned it from God. I say, perhaps he learned it from you. That was Lucifel’s theory. And despite how I grew to loathe her, I’ll admit she was always right.”

  “I can’t sing that here,” Sophia said firmly. “I won’t. Besides, only Israfel can manipulate matter with the power of his voice. He’s the Creator Supernal. Not me.”

  “That’s right. You’re not him,” Python said. “You’re someone much more special, Sophia. Your true power might remain under lock and key, but I can see it behind your eyes, swirling like a storm. The choice is yours, of course. You can help Angela, or you can continue to watch both her and the universe waste away.”

  “What is the Angelus?” Kim asked her.

  “The song of creation,” Sophia said, still staring back at Python. “But it’s not to be used lightly. It has great, no, immense power.”

  “Why would it be important now?”

  “Because,” Python chimed in, “it is ultimately a song of Binding. Its notes hold the universe together, and so they would also contain the power to connect your soul with the Archon’s to break down the walls of Her mind, to bring back Her memories. Think hard—for the dimensions to be disintegrating, the notes of the song must have faltered. It would seem someone has stopped singing.” The demon looked around them, as if addressing an omnipresent person they couldn’t see. “And by someone, I mean God.”

  Kim opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find words anymore. Sophia’s lips sealed to a tightly knit line.

  “Now,” Python said softly, “I wonder how that happened? Did He grow weary at last? Is He perhaps dead—”

  “I’ll do it,” Sophia said. Her eyes shone with indignation.

  Python stepped back, his arms folded. Kim watched her, waiting with the demon. He wanted to fall on his knees and beg her to sing if that was what Python needed. Yet Sophia’s face had taken on a frightful superiority. For a second, it would be the height of idiocy to take one step closer to her.

  Sophia took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Kim let out a soft sigh of relief. Then, a hot fear arose in him again. Patterns began to flicker on Sophia’s skin. They were words, written in the hieroglyphic angel writing Merkebah. Faintly, he heard her singing, and sounds that seemed at first unintelligible formed into beautiful words kissing his ears. He pressed a hand against the altar to steady himself.

  Were you there in the Garden of Shadows?

  Were you near when the Father took wing?

  Did you sigh when the starlight outpoured us?

  When the silver bright water could sing . . .

  “Then, if you’re decided . . .” Python said. He suddenly stood next to Kim, offering the decanter as Sophia’s pure voice rose and fell. “The final step is for you to drink this. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “What is it?” Kim said, taking the bottle and instinctively sniffing the contents.

  Python sighed. “Does it really matter?”

  No, it didn’t. Kim looked at Angela. She moaned in her sleep, her face pale with suffering. Kim pressed the bottle to his lips and, tipping his head back, began to drink. The liquid tasted sour and went down thick. When he was done, he wiped his lips and rubbed more hair away from his sweaty forehead. Already, he felt a bit out of sorts. His vision blurred slightly, but he kept his attention on Angela. She looked like a beautiful black-and-red mirage.

  “Stand here,” Python said curtly, dragging Kim to a spot in front of the altar.

  Python began to whisper in Theban, the language of the demons. Kim noted the words when he could as they mixed with and complemented Sophia’s song, but he was riveted on the dull glow that began to surround Angela. The glow steadily increased in brightness. Soon, it became bright as a sun. Kim’s eyes pulsed with pain, and then the song reached its end, and before he thought his brain might ignite from the fire and brilliance at last, the light faded.

  Now the room was as silent and dark as before. His skin felt hot to the touch.

  The presence in the room, the source of the terrible hissing noise, was suddenly gone. Perhaps the light had been too much for whatever had been observing them.

  Sophia opened her eyes as if breaking from a trance. The words faded from her skin, and she ran to Kim’s side, supporting him as he swayed next to the altar.

  He turned to her, suddenly so very tired. “Is that song . . . is that the power hidden inside of you?” he whispered. “Inside the Book of Raziel?”

  “Yes,” Sophia said. “And no. The last stanzas have been sealed away. I don’t remember them. Only Raziel knew, and he locked them away so that the Archon alone can obtain them or wield them.”

  “What are you really?” Kim said, staring at her.

  They remained like that for a moment longer. Sophia’s features masked over with pain.

  BOOM. Python slammed the hourglass down on the altar next to them. Its insides were now filled with crimson sand pulsing with dull light. The demon then flipped the hourglass. A few grains sprinkled to its bottom.

  “Here is your life force,” Python said. He gazed into the hourglass almost hungrily. “You have until the last grain falls to the bottom. After that, well—”

  He snapped his fingers and a necklace with a small hourglass pendant swung from Kim’s neck. As if it were an afterthought, the demon tossed back the sapphire necklace suspended in the air to Sophia. She caught it expertly, but that couldn’t erase the fury emanating from her like smoke. “What did you do?” she demanded of Python.

  Yes, what did he do? Kim swallowed. It felt like his soul was bottoming out inside of him. He grasped the pendant and forced himself to breathe.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Python said. “We’re all simply prisoners to the laws of the universe. And I’m sad to bring you this news if you’re unaware, but when one person’s life force Binds with another’s, the helping individual is drained. Slowly, but always surely. Your time, Kim, will eventually be up.” Python reached into the bag of crimson sand and slowly let some grains slip through his fingers. “Time is merely the hourglass of God. The only difference is that in this case, I’m the one who flipped that hourglass into action. And it was all thanks to Sophia’s divine little song.”

  Sophia trembled. Her steely grip was now stopping the flow of blood in his arms. Kim wanted to be enraged. He had every right to be. But something had broken within him. Looking at Angela, know
ing he was doing what he could to help her, he had no regrets. The old hardness within him was dying.

  And he loved her for it.

  Kim never took his eyes off her. It was like he couldn’t anymore. “When the last grains fall to the hourglass’s bottom, what will happen next?” he murmured. He already knew the answer.

  Python grew deeply serious. The very air seemed to hang on his words. “Well, then, you’re mine,” he said softly.

  Now Sophia let loose. “You devious snake,” she screamed at Python.

  Kim lowered his head and leaned against the table. If someone had punched him, the effect couldn’t have been worse. He stared at Angela, brushing aside her hair. Tears filled his eyes and trickled hotly down his face.

  “Kim,” Sophia shouted, “he has no right to claim your soul. You can’t be Python’s slave.”

  Kim had nothing to say.

  “Don’t you understand what this means?” Sophia screamed at him.

  He nodded, his mind and soul already lost in a strange fog. “I do. And I know that I have no regrets. For the first time, only I could help Angela.” He gripped one of Angela’s hands impulsively. “Besides, what do I have left now, anyway? I’m a man without purpose. I’m a soul walking in a haze. Maybe this is what it was all for—this moment. Maybe every moment of my life led me not to Lucifel’s Altar, but here.”

  Sophia became speechless. She probably felt both guilty and grieved, but it was too late. It was all too late.

  Python stepped closer to Kim and examined the hourglass pendant, lifting it with his fingers. “A perfect miniature,” he said. “It will match the hourglass I keep here. You see, Kim, I’m a gentleman at heart. I always find it polite to let a soul I favor know just how much time it has left. And even though I tended to despise you by turns, I’ll admit your bravery earned a special place in my heart today.”

  Kim grasped the pendant, sickness welling within him in a flood. “Promise me one thing,” he said weakly. He meant the words for everyone. “Don’t tell Angela what I’ve done.”

  Sophia’s gentle sobbing cut him to the heart.