The Sinner

“King Hammurabi of Babylon waged war on Southern Mesopotamia,” he said. “He sought to absorb Larsa into his empire. I fought for my king, Rim-Sin the First, leading his army in many battles, but eventually we were overwhelmed. Rim-Sin fled.” Casziel’s eyes hardened. “I stayed.”

“You were a warrior,” I said, remembering one of our first conversations.

Cas nodded. “I defended my homeland to the bitter end, but it was useless. Hammurabi cut off the city, burning crops, starving the people. Women and children were dying. I had no choice but to surrender. I was captured and put to death.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” I said, my fingers toying with a fresh cocktail I didn’t remember ordering. “But you died defending your homeland from invasion. That doesn’t sound like a bad thing. Certainly not bad enough to…”

“Condemn my soul to eternal damnation?”

“Yes…um. That. How did that happen? If you want to tell me.”

He twisted the stem of his wine glass and became lost in the deep red depths.

“Hammurabi’s hatred for me ran deep,” he said. “We’d been at war for four years. I fended off his attacks and had led successful raids into Babylon. He blamed me for Larsa’s defiance more than he did Rim-Sin.”

I stared, wide-eyed, that Casziel lived through events I only studied in history books.

“Upon my capture, Hammurabi dragged me into the bowels of the ziggurat—our temple to Utu, the sun god. There, I was tortured and brought to the brink of death again and again. To punish me for my rebellion.” His voice stiffened, his eyes full of memories. “He defiled our temple and Utu himself, soiling the walls of the god’s house with my blood. But Hammurabi wasn’t satisfied. He ordered his generals to round up my parents, my sister…” He took a long pull from his wi

ne. “And my wife.”

I remembered the strange vision I’d had when I first found Cas. His memories, I guessed, from the last night in the temple. A stab of jealousy knifed me in the chest. “You had a wife?”

He nodded. “It was an arranged marriage, as was custom. Hardly two months after our wedding, Hammurabi mounted his final, victorious attack, and Larsa was defeated. My wife was slaughtered with the rest of my family and her father, the high priest. One after the other, they were murdered right before my eyes.” He inhaled through his nose, steeling himself. “Only when their blood ceased to flow was I allowed to die.”

His pain slammed into me like a hammer. There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t sound stupid and weak.

“The helpless rage and grief came with me as I Crossed Over,” Casziel continued. “And Ashtaroth, drawn by that pain, was waiting for me on the Other Side.”

“Ashtar—?”

Casziel’s finger flew to my lips. “Don’t say his name. You don’t want him in your world, Lucy.” He released me. “He must remain in mine.”

“Who is he?”

“My commanding officer, so to speak. I am his servitor. His soldier.” His mouth drew down in a grim line. “Stoked by Ashtaroth, my wrath worked fast to corrupt me. Under his guidance, I grew very powerful. There are few demons mightier—or more infernal—than he.” He raised his gaze to meet mine. “Or me.”

I sat back. “Oh.”

“Ashtaroth welcomed me into a realm in which the rage and horror of my fate could be channeled. I stoked it in humans until it became something outside of me. I didn’t have to suffer it; I reveled in it. My grief was no longer weakness but power.”

“Grief isn’t weakness,” I said quietly. “It’s a sign of love. It’s love that endures—”

“And what of the love that is murdered before your eyes?” he demanded with sudden fire. “What is love when it screams your name on bloodstained lips, calling for help that you cannot give? Tell me that isn’t weakness, Lucy Dennings. The ultimate weakness. To be unable to save them. I couldn’t save them…” He shook his head with finality, his voice hard again. “Grief is not love. Grief is penance for living after love has died.”

I swallowed hard. “What happened to you and your family is unimaginable, Cas. But the fact that you’re here—”

“Is nothing heroic. I merely grow tired of feeding the fire of rage and pain. I’m tired of the endless hunger. The death.”

My gaze dropped to the gash on his arm, hidden by a sleeve. “If we succeed, will Ash…will your commander let you go?”

“We have an agreement. Eleven days. No more.”

It wasn’t an answer to the question, but my head was already murky, and Cas was hailing the bartender again. A third round of drinks was set before us.

I took a deep pull of mine, letting the whiskey fortify me.

“I’m sorry about your family, Cas,” I said. “My mother died when I was too little to remember her but losing my father… It’s been the hardest thing. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”