Fallen Reign (Sins of the Father 1)

I knew how communing with gods and entities worked, but I was never sure how it went with angels. Probably the same, right? Cast a summoning circle, and make an offering of blood. I stared at the little puddle of red welling up in the palm of my hand, exiting my skin through the slit I’d made with the knife. Okay, so maybe I cut too deep, too quick. Florian was right, after all. I was pretty damn pissed.

In one swift motion, I turned my hand over, then slammed it against the sheet of paper.

The lights in the apartment flickered. The thump of feet striking wood was all the proof I needed that Raziel had touched down in the apartment. He didn’t even have to come in through the window this time. I didn’t know if his body was incorporeal until it wasn’t, or if he fell from the sky as particles of energy that only solidified when they reached my living room. All that mattered was that I was angry.

Raziel tutted as he stood over the kitchen table, observing my bloody handprint with an infuriating mix of awe and pity. “There are far less extreme ways to call my attention, Mason.”

“Quit your bullshit,” I snarled, pushing myself off the table, wincing when I realized that I’d used my injured hand to do so. It left a wet, angry smear in the wood. “We just had a flock of angels bust in on us. They tied Florian up and then threatened me.”

Florian rubbed his hands together. “I mean, it wasn’t that bad for me.”

I glared at him, then at Raziel. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

I blinked at him, the absolute nonchalance of his expression just making my anger climb another notch on the ladder. “Who was the lady with the clipboard, and what did she hope to accomplish by bursting in on us while I was in the shower?”

Raziel nodded sagely, his eyes on my chest. “Indeed. Either you did a poor job of toweling yourself off, or you might need another shower soon, considering how worked up you’re getting.”

I hadn’t even realized I was sweating so much. “Because I’m pissed, okay? Don’t play games with me. This is not the time.”

He nodded again, sighing. “I am not affiliated with the angel with the clipboard. Sadriel belongs to a group that takes a very special interest in your kind.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Raziel.”

“Calm down,” he said, his voice soothing, his open hands placating, two details that just ratcheted up my annoyance even more. “I can assure you that I had nothing to do with this. At worst, Sadriel was taking a census. She loves statistics, data. She’s the angel of order.”

“How else would they know how to find me? We’ve warded this place wall to wall. ”

“Warding magic is like all other forms of arcane practice. You should know that by now. It involves, well, practice, and growth. You may know a little from what your former employer taught you, Mason, but you are not a mage. Not even an apprentice.”

“Then I’ll learn,” I growled. “I’ll learn so I can keep you and all the rest of your crew far, far away from me. I don’t know if I can even trust you anymore. You knew all along. You’ve been in cahoots with those winged crazies this whole time.”

“That is unfair, and hurtful, and you know that.”

“How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re not just a demon, or something worse, wearing the skin of an angel?”

That was the only time Raziel returned my anger that night. “Loyalty and faith, Mason,” he roared. “Have I not shown you both in spades? I have done nothing but help you since the beginning. I – ”

I don’t know what came over me then, my mind so convinced that Raziel had been playing me all along. My body took over, sending tendrils of permission and longing towards the Vestments. I spun as a mace appeared in my hand, whirling around in an arc to bring it crashing full against Raziel’s chest. Florian gasped, and he may have let out something that could have been a plea, or a warning. But when the mace connected, it didn’t come with the crunch of a blunt weapon against flesh and bone, but the clang of metal, like the sound of some huge bell.

That wasn’t there before. I hooded my eyes to protect them from the brilliance of the blazing golden shield in Raziel’s hand, the one he used to deflect the blow of my mace. But more blinding was the divine sheen of the golden armor that now encased him, head to toe.

“You attacked me,” Raziel said, the soft sorrow in his voice such heavy contrast to the impervious radiance of his armor.

“I needed to know how you would react if I did,” I said through gritted teeth. “If you’d drop the act and show your true self to me. And look what it taught me. You can use the Vestments yourself, too.”

Raziel sneered at me, the expression more intimidating than I expected as he smashed his shield forward and knocked the mace fully out of my grasp. The mace slammed into the far wall, then disappeared as it fell to the ground. One of the neighbors banged on the wall, yelling angrily in words I couldn’t understand.

“Creatio ex nihilo,” Raziel said. “I created these armaments out of nothing, the way I tried to explain to you at the park. You possess a glimmer of these gifts too, Mason. All I have done is help you become better, stronger. I only meant to show you your power, to teach by example. Why would your enemy want that? Is that not proof enough of my loyalty?”

“Maybe you’re grooming me to become stronger because you know you can use me someday, to take advantage of my trust.”

Raziel stammered, but whatever he meant to say never made it past his lips. I hated that I could have been right, that his eventual betrayal might have been the truth.

“Then you never lied to me?” I said. “You never had any ulterior motive for seeking me out? I always wondered, you know, ever since the day that the glyphs burned themselves into my skin. Why did you come? Why you, of all people? Beelzebub wanted a piece of me. Literally. You said so yourself, Prince of Gluttony and all. But what do you want from me, Raziel?”

Raziel’s lips twitched, though they remained closed, like he was being very, very careful to pick his words. Out of my peripheral vision I could see Florian huddled on the couch, wringing his hands. I knew we were freaking him out. Raziel and I were probably his only two friends in the world. But I had to know. I wanted answers.