Chapter 16: The Confrontation

Devnik

In my haste, I jumped the full flight of stairs and landed at the bottom as gently as an autumn leaf. My movements were quiet, but my body was shaking with an eager, uncontained readiness.

I reached out towards the oaken front door. Outside was the full light of the late morning. The memory of what had happened the last time I had stood under the sun's rays flashed vividly in my mind. My chest itched from the remnants of the cut Cariel had slashed across it.

I put my hand on the door and heaved it open.

Light spilled across my face. I suppressed the deep-seated instinct to flinch and cower in the presence of the light.

When I was composed, I cautiously tried to take a step outside. I found my leg ready and able to move. The daylight shield was working.

Now then...

Cariel

I sensed Devnikolus blur past the door to the guest room.

He was going out there.

He really was going to go face Michael. It seemed surreal, and unbelievable. For the vast majority of the Light, arch-angels were all powerful and unassailable. One might more readily scold a thunderstorm for its actions than an arch-angel. One could more readily fight a mountainside than fight an arch-angel.

For a brief moment I worried. By all rights, I had held my own better than I had any right to in my fight against the Prince of Destruction. Michael was so far above me in terms of power and position that it made my head ache. I wondered why he was here.

Perhaps he was here to offer the aid he had once refused me.

I had met Michael twice before. Once, through Michael's friendship with my celestial superior, Johoel. The second when I begged for my half-sister's freedom. It had taken two full days of begging and bartering before I was allowed entrance to the Center Sphere. When I had finally stepped into its golden halls, my meeting with Lord Michael had been brief. He told me he could free Alarial from Devnikolus's control if I could get her to come away with me to a place where he would have time to meet us.

Was he outside because he had changed his mind? Did he now intend to help us?

A little too late for that, I thought angrily. Aid would have been welcome before I had this collar clenched around my neck.

The soulless man shifted slightly in his place by the windowsill ... distracting me from my ruminations.

"You can't see the front garden from that window," I said, with some of my anger bleeding into my voice.

The strange human shrugged without looking at me. "I don't particularly want to watch," he said mildly.

The man had been quiet and withdrawn since his return, after telling me about Devnikolus's sun shield and his plan to face Lord Michael.

I raised an eyebrow. "You watched me fight your Master..."

Jon laughed. "Your Master, too, now," he said with a small smile. "Unless I've been mishearing since I got here?"

I didn't rise to his jest. I wanted him to answer my question.

When I didn't respond, he looked back at me and sighed. "When my Prince fought you, there was a chance I might prove useful," he said, his voice losing much of its mirth. "But against an arch-angel? I imagine I'd just be a liability."

I huffed at that and pressed my shoulders against a wall. For a few moments I contemplated pouncing on this annoying human. I wasn't accustomed to hearing human sinners talk to me in such a manner.

But then I thought about the punishment Devnikolus had given me when I attacked the Bra'rul. I remembered the chains and the blows he had rained down on me. My body shivered and clenched.

"I want to watch," I blurted out suddenly.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't recommend going outside."

"A window," I said quickly, "where's a window I could watch from?"

Jon eyed me for a long moment. I sensed he didn't quite know what to make of me. Something in that stare made me shift uncomfortably.

"Hmm," Jon said finally. "I haven't been to this manor in about four centuries, but I think the bathroom might have a high window with a discrete view of the manor's front grounds." He gestured out the door and then turned back to look out the window that wouldn't show him anything of the fight.

Without saying another word, I left the human to his brooding and crossed into the hallway.

I was nearly to the bathroom when the door to the Master's chamber opened. Alarial stepped out and neatly closed the door behind herself. She turned, then froze when she saw me.

My half-sister's blonde hair was an absolute mess. It looked as if she had been the loser in a fight with her pillows. Her clothes weren't much better; she had slipped her old travel clothes on. A grass stain clung to the knee of her brown pants and a few small specks of blue blood appeared to have stained her shirt at the shoulder.

"Are you going to watch?" I asked simply.

Alarial gave me a hard, scrutinizing look.

I could only imagine what she saw. I was dressed in a heavy red robe that Jon had found in the guest-room dresser, and I still felt slightly nauseous and unwell from Lord Michael's compulsions. But more than that, I felt the lingering shame of my earlier display. I had told a demon that I would love him if he satisfied my addictions, and she had seen it.

"Yes..." she said slowly, her silver eyes betraying her distrust.

I turned, popped the bathroom door open, and gestured for her to follow me inside.

The window was too high to see out of for someone of my height. Scowling, I grabbed the copper bathtub and dragged it underneath the window.

"What are you doing?" Alarial asked from the doorway.

I put one probing foot on the side of the tub. It seemed it would hold my weight without tipping over. "The human said this was the best window to watch from," I said, attempting to keep the ridiculousness of the situation out of my voice.

"And what?" she asked frostily. "Are we going to take turns standing on a washtub?"

I edged my feet over so there was space for her to stand on the side as well.

Alarial tentatively stepped up onto the tub next to me. The Demon Prince's scent on her was strong. I tried to ignore the feelings that roused in me and turned my attention to the grounds beyond the window where a dark-haired man dressed in a black waistcoat was slowly sauntering toward a copper-haired man adorned in a simple white tunic.

Devnik

The wind was high in the tree branches as I walked slowly and measuredly down the garden path. The pleasant and unusual feel of the sun's warmth was at my back. Occasionally, the breeze swooped down, cutting the heat with a tingling chill.

I felt all these things as I approached Michael. He was taller than me by an inch or two, and broader as well. His face, sharp and harsh, framed a ridiculous mop of bright bronze hair that curled every which way.

He was just what I expected ... just what I had heard.

To his credit, he didn't attempt to do anything awe inspiring or magically intimidating. That was the low sort of posturing that lesser demons and humans might take note of ... but not me. Instead, he simply stood in the middle of my garden with his hands clasped behind his back. His face was stern and slanted in an angry, disapproving expression. But that was all the reaction my appearance mustered from him.

I stopped ten paces in front of him and gave him my best smile. If he was not going to play the role of the righteously indignant angel, then I would happily take up the mantle of the mocking demon.

"So wonderful of you to drop in, Michael," I said, layering my voice with false graciousness. "You must excuse my lack of hospitality. I would have made the servants put the tea kettle on had I known you were coming."

The arch-angel cocked his head slightly to the side. His silver eyes narrowed. "And yet," he said, "you are wearing a daylight shield. You must have known I was coming in order to prepare." His voice was low and rich, but his tone was far too mild for an irate angel.

"Are you insinuating that I have purposely not prepared any tea?" I asked wryly, trying to diffuse the nerves that this angel inspired in me.

Michael frowned and waved a hand. Suddenly, blue sparks erupted from his fingers and blurred towards me at a shocking speed. I barely managed to raise a hand in time to block the spell. My skin fizzled and burned from where the magic had touched my skin. I shook the pain from it with a grimace.

"Speak respectfully, Devnikolus," Michael said, with nothing more than faint disapproval. "Goading is far beneath us both."

I blinked once and nodded. "Very well," I said as my magic healed my charred flesh. "I did know that you were coming."

Michael inclined his head and returned his hand behind his back. "Thank you. I appreciate your civility."

He paused then. The sun slipped behind a passing cloud, and my garden darkened briefly. In the distance I could hear a horse and cart trundling down the dirt road.

"Devnikolus," the arch-angel began, "would you please tell me why you killed a Judicar-bonded angel and then killed Legionnaire sortie fifty-four?"

That was very direct.

I looked up at the sun. I estimated fifteen minutes would be long enough to give Lucifer his half-hour. I just needed to keep him here a little longer.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," I said, surprising myself with the sincerity in my own voice.

Michael frowned. "So there is a scheme," he said evenly. "I wonder what could it be?"

"Perhaps I needed their deaths for a greater Working?" I suggested, hoping to keep him talking a few moments more...

Michael shook his head. "No..." he said almost too himself. "I don't sense that you've stored their essence anywhere." He paused. "Could you have been trying to draw out Viriel? I know you have had encounters in the past—"

I nearly laughed aloud. I stifled it quickly. I doubted Michael would appreciate a laughing demon. "Hardly worth my time. He was an amusing distraction over the years ... nothing more."

The angel nodded. "Yes ... quite. And then I cannot forget that you anticipated my arrival, which means that you've either given this plan a good deal of forethought—or you've had some sort of access to predictions of the future."

I stood still and silent. Watching Michael think was awe inspiring. He hadn't been wrong yet.

"And then," Michael continued, "there is the fact that you have chosen to stand bravely against me ... rather than slink into the shadows ... as your kind is wont to do."

A brief twinge of irritation flickered in the corners of my mouth.

Michael stood before me calmly and unafraid. A gentle breeze swept through the garden. The angel's bronze hair moved slightly in the wind. Above, the cloud covering the sun was blown gently away and light bathed the manor grounds once more.