The Wrath of Angels (Eternal Warriors Book 3) Read online

  The little man, (for so it was that he appeared and so shall we describe him), shook his head and allowed her to lead him to a quiet table in a shadowy corner. This was a most delicate business, and it had been many years in the making. He was not cautious by nature, but the cruel centuries had impressed upon him the tiresome necessity of prudence.

  “Some alterations are unavoidable.” He did not tell her that he had never had any intention of showing up at the agreed-upon time. She was unlikely to betray him to the Mad One’s ever-watchful Eyes, but there was too much at stake to assume any unnecessary risks. “My most heartfelt apologies. Still, I am here now and it’s less crowded tonight, so there’s less risk of any of the Unseen lurking about.”

  She nodded warily.

  “Perhaps you are right. But I’ve been warned about you, trickster. How do I know you aren’t up to your old games? I wouldn’t put it past you to play both sides of the table. You haven’t been seen in five hundred years, and now you expect me to take you at your word?”

  He arched a suggestive eyebrow. “You can take me however you want me, darling. And I don’t care if you believe me or not, because your mistress knows that whatever my shortcomings, and to be sure, my sins are many, I have always done her the proper homage. Nor need she fear betrayal—she is too long past the game. She has nothing to fear.”

  The dancer nodded again, this time with rather less wariness.

  “Perhaps. Now, tell me. That which you seek, is it truly a thing of power?”

  “Great power. Older and more precious than you can imagine.”

  She looked skeptical. “And how do you know of it? How can you be so sure?”

  The little man smiled grimly. “I am bound to it. I have always been bound to it; I just don’t know where it is. But I believe your mistress does.”

  She relaxed at his admission just as the girlish warbling of the pop princess segued into darker, fast-paced garage. That was rather more like it, thought the little man, tapping his foot to the underlying jungle beat.

  “You haven’t asked me yet if she’s willing to see you.”

  The little man’s lips twitched. He was amused by her pretensions. “Of course she’s willing to see me. She has nothing better to occupy her these days.”

  “If you are so sure, then why did you not simply go to her? Why involve me?”

  Why had he involved her? It was not strictly necessary, and perhaps it courted needless risk. But there was a reason, not the most compelling of reasons, perhaps, but it was one that mattered to him all the same.

  “Because one does not intrude upon a queen,” he answered quietly.

  The dancer did not respond immediately, instead she looked down at the table for a long moment. When she looked up again, her dark eyes were luminous with impending tears.

  “Even a queen without a crown?”

  “Especially a queen without a crown.”

  She reached out to him and took his hand, almost gratefully, he thought, and squeezed it. “Thank you. I have misjudged you perhaps. Do you think you can free him?”

  “So you know?” He was surprised. She had said him, not it. She knew! Had she sought to mislead him earlier with her questions? No, she was merely testing him. He smiled at himself. Perhaps she was not so easy to read as he had thought. But the realization that he had been fooled caused him no chagrin, instead he was cheered at the thought that perhaps he might have found a willing ally at last. Her mistress had long ago abandoned hope, but this one had not, and if she was sympathetic to his cause, then others might be too. For just a moment, the long, lonely road he had wandered for so long seemed to become a little less dark, a little less impossible.

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I believe so. If she can tell me where he may be found.”

  The dancer nodded, and as she did, her provocative white outfit transformed into a formal red gown, still formed to her figure but eminently more respectable. A Japanese symbol appeared on each of her bare shoulders, constructed of rhinestones, which, upon closer look, he realized were actually diamonds. Eikou. He smiled to himself. It was true, he was not the only one who still harbored a regard for the old days, for the old ways.

  She stretched out her palm to him.

  “Close your eyes. I’ll bring you to her.”

  Chapter 2

  Safety in Silence

  Sit in silence, go into darkness, daughter of the Babylonians; no more will you be called queen of kingdoms.

  —Isaiah 47:5

  He found himself standing hand-in-hand with his new companion in a windowless corridor. It was an old building; clearly, with that singular combination of aged charm and aesthetic desolation that marks so many constructions of the late nineteenth century. Nearly everything in the hall was painted the same faded shade of yellow, the walls, the doors, the trim, even the pipes overhead which presumably were intended to keep the building from freezing solid in the winter. Judging by their appearance, though, he had his doubts about their efficacy.

  She released his hand, then began walking forward until she reached a door some three rooms down. He followed her, and laughed when he saw the name embossed on the small piece of black tape, peeling at the edges, which was applied above the door’s mail slot.

  “Dr. Gloria Sprite?” he mused in disbelief.

  “It’s her little joke. Never mind that.”

  She knocked at the door, and after a moment of no response, the door was opened by a birdlike little woman of indeterminate age. She looked to be somewhere between sixty and seventy-five, but her visitor knew that she exceeded that span by at least a factor of ten, if not a hundred. She was dressed simply, in a red cardigan sweater and an unassuming navy blue skirt, and her shoes were of the sensible sort. The room into which she gracefully invited them was, like her attire, moderate to the point of ostentation, with little more than a desk, a wardrobe, and two small alcoves that presumably served as washroom and sleeping quarters.

  Not that she truly needed the latter, for Dr. Gloria Sprite was none other than Gloriana, the former Queen of the Southlands and one of the most powerful fae of fallen Albion. She had been living this human charade for at least thirty years, her visitor knew, though it was entirely possible that she been doing so much longer than that. Something moved at his feet as he entered the room; he looked down just in time to avoid stepping on a small calico tabby, which mewed a feeble protest at the invaders and escaped into the meager shelter of the smaller of the two alcoves.

  “Ah, Robin, how good to see you,” Gloriana told him, a smile of pleasure creasing her pallid, wrinkled face. “Do forgive my champion, as we are not much in the custom of receiving guests of late, you see.”

  Robin, for that was indeed one of his many names, dropped to one knee and kissed the silver ring which was the old woman’s sole concession to personal adornment. It was shaped like a coiled serpent, and he remembered the trepidation with which he had kissed it the first time, for if he recalled correctly, the jewelry was far more than a mere ring. Since then, he had learned to defend himself against such things.

  “Why are you living in this manner, Gloriana?” Six hundred years ago, he would never have been so bold to address her directly, but many things had changed over the centuries, himself not the least. “I spent forty years looking for you and I imagined many possibilities, but the thought of you living like this amongst mortals, as a mortal, was never one of them.”

  Behind him, there was a polite cough, and his hostess smiled. Her grey hair was wispy and shot with white and she stooped, but her blue eyes were still penetrating.

  “Don’t be alarmed, my dear. You did well to bring him to me. Go, now, and amuse yourself. I will call you if I have need.”

  Robin turned and bowed politely to his guide, who shot him a significant glare that might have been intended as a warning, though of what he did not know. Then she was gone, leaving nothing but a faintly perfumed scent of roses behind her.

  “She is a go
od girl, and loyal,” said the erstwhile Faery Queen. “So many have fallen away, so many have given in to despair. There are but a few who still dare to hope for a restoration, but I fear that I am no longer one of them. We are outside of time, and yet, it still finds a way to leave its mark on us…. Why did you come to me, Robin? I do not have the power you seek.”

  “I don’t need power, I need knowledge.”

  “Silly boy. Knowledge is power.” She pointed to her solitary window, which overlooked a great cemetery. “And yet all power fades with time. Behold my realm, which once extended from Land’s End to Canterbury and from here to the Channel. And yet, am I not content? I have my little studies, and do you know? Mr. Nicholas Royle has intimated that it is very possible my latest treatise on hidden Miltonian onomastics shall see publication in the next volume of the university’s literary review. It’s a brilliant coup, I assure you.”

  “And an unfair one, I should say, considering you were eyewitness to the events portrayed.”

  “Still the rascal!” Gloriana wagged a finger at him, but she took no offense. “Yes, I was there, but Mr. Milton was not, so while my particular perspective may be unique, it is certainly not deceitful. Nor do I see that full disclosure is required, much less wise.”

  “I can imagine it might call your scholarly discernment into question.”

  “If not my sanity!”

  Gloriana chuckled, a high-pitched titter that, like her present facade, reminded him of a bird. She had always been one to soar, this onetime ruler of sea, land and sky, but now the great raptor had been reduced to little more a chirping swallow. Or so it seemed. Robin had learned not to put too much store in the seeming appearances of others, for if his own despicable guise was not entirely inaccurate, it was also more than a little deliberate on his part.

  The whistle of a kettle sounded, and Gloriana rose to her feet. “Will you take tea?”

  “If you please.” Robin’s mind whirled. Of all the many changes he had witnessed on this benighted planet, this was perhaps the most outrageous. Gloriana, the majestic, whose lightning-quick wrath was legendary, feared by man and sprite alike, now served him tea and scones. Not for the first time, he cursed Heaven. What hath God wrought? Naught but degradation and servile humiliation, he thought bitterly. Yes, what a glorious Creation indeed.

  How stupid he had been. Milton was an ass and there was nothing noble about falling from grace. How stupid they had all been.

  “You look thoughtful.” Gloriana had returned with the tea, and as he had surmised, scones as well. He took one, and discovered that it was hard enough to have been prepared around the time he had last set foot in England. “How very strange. That is not like you.”

  “I was thinking about your treatise.”

  “How charming, if unexpected. Would you like to read it?”

  “My God, no!” He shook his head in unfeigned alarm. “I’d rather answer your question. You see, I know there were seven who laid the seal, only seven who know the place I seek. Four I cannot think to ask. One has been banished, either to the Pit or the Void, I do not know. One I cannot find anywhere, which leaves only you. So, I beg you, Gloriana, by the memory of the crown that was once yours, tell me where the seal was laid!”

  Gloriana nodded slowly. “I see. And, of course, you understand, even if you are correct and you can manage this miracle, that merely breaking the seal and restoring Albion are two different things entirely. The Mad One has grown tranquil, at last. Why should I risk provoking him again to fury?”

  “Because it is needful.”

  “Needful? Such a strange word in the mouth of a daemon. Next, you will be telling me that it is the right thing to do! Perhaps it is not me, but you, who have spent too much time walking amongst mortals, Robin.”

  He shook his head. “No, I am simply telling you the truth. Strange wheels are turning even as we speak, and I fear the Mad One may soon be the least of our concerns.”

  “Your concerns, Robin, and your fears, not mine.”

  He ignored her attempts to brush him off and remained insistent. “I must know, so you really must tell me, Gloriana. I implore you. Please, don’t make me force you.”

  The withered little woman only smiled at him.

  “Force me? My dear boy, I am not entirely without defenses.”

  She flicked her finger in his direction, and her silver ring expanded as it flew at him. He threw up his arm in front of his face and immediately felt a tight pressure around his wrist. As the silver serpent bared its fangs and hissed threateningly in his face, the calico kitten burst from the other room, leaped from chair to desk to wardrobe, from where it hurled itself onto Robin’s shoulder.

  He shook his head regretfully, as he stretched his arm out to prevent the ring-snake from striking at his eyes. “Believe me, Gloriana. I have no wish to harm you. But I must know where the seal is, you see, for I cannot break it if I cannot find it, and there’s little your animated jewelry or your kitten can do to stop me.”

  “Robin.” There was reproach in her voice, but no fear, only amusement in her eyes. “How you’ve changed! And yet, how little you’ve learned.”

  He started as he heard a deep, rumbling voice in his ear.

  “This kitten could bloody well do for you, boyo. Don’t you be forgetting it, either.” A great mass suddenly weighed down his shoulder, as if someone had placed something approximately the size of Big Ben there without him noticing it, and he staggered under the load even as it was lifted abruptly from him. He gasped and rubbed at his shoulder as the kitten landed lightly on the floor, instead of plunging through the wooden floor directly to the basement as he half expected it would.

  It turned and mewed nastily at him, earning a scolding from Gloriana.

  “Never mind that, Orgoglio, and watch your tongue. He means well.” She crooked her finger and the snake on his wrist flew back to her, somehow becoming a ring again in the process. “It pleases me to see you are so determined, Robin. But my mind is settled. I am done. I will take no part in the affairs of men or angels again. Albion is fallen and the great fae are no more. My retirement may have been imposed upon me, but as you can see, I have found more than a little contentment in this pasture to which I have been retired.”

  Robin was honestly glad to hear the queen had found her peace, strange though it might be to him, but he could not leave her to it. He told her of the dark whispers that now floated on the night winds from the Continent, and despite her determined indifference, he could see her ears pricking, for like him, she was well aware that from the first, the greater part of Albion’s troubles had always come from the sea. And if Robin had never shirked from exaggeration in the past, he found no need to do so now. Exaggeration was unnecessary, for not in seven hundred years had the omens been more dire.

  Unlike most of the world in shadow, their conquered realm had never been a battleground for the great game of Man, where demon warred with angel over the fate of each precious mortal soul. And the King of that realm, though fallen himself, had never submitted to Lucifer. Moreover, he had done his best to create a magical paradise as a simulacrum of the Heavenly joy they had lost: Glorious Albion, the land of Faerie, over which the first fae reigned as creator, protector and king.

  But Lucifer brooked no rivals, even a rival whose challenge existed solely in his mind. There had been treachery, bitter, soul-slaying treachery from the most unsuspected source, through which the Mad One had deposed Albion’s king as well as other, lesser royals such as Gloriana.

  Now, a new power was rising, swallowing up principalities and dark princes alike, and yet Lucifer did not bestir himself to stop her. From this, some thought he feared her, others, wiser and more cynical, surmised that Lucifer was behind her rise and was using it to rein in some of his more powerful servitors. And then, there were the fearful, who worried that the Shining Prince had wearied of the great game at last, that he was now ready to risk everything with one final roll of the dice.

  Gloriana d
id not hide her surprise. “Teuvras and Merofael both? I should not have dreamed such things were possible! Surely they are too proud!”

  “They have submitted before her, and willingly. Her vision has proved more seductive than one could have imagined. Nor are they alone, more than twenty lesser princes have made obeisance as well, Parsoy and Asyael among them.”

  “Tellus?”

  “No, he alone stands against her. But he is weak, and can spare no aid for another. It is all he can do to hold out. Like you, I have long wished to see Albion restored, but now, that is our only hope. Even if the Mad One intended to resist her, he could not win. As it stands, who can say what he intends. He is, as you very well know, quite mad.”

  “Yes, if it were not those around him, who keep him propped up in his place, I should think he would have fallen some time past.”

  Robin smiled at her. “I have good reason to believe that not all of those to whom you refer now believe that keeping him propped up serves their interests any longer.”

  Gloriana’s eyes widened, then narrowed thoughtfully. She stood and turned from him, then walked stiffly towards her solitary window to stare out over what was a wide expanse of green that led to a great cemetery. Perhaps it was comforting for her, an immortal, to reflect on the bitter joke that was mortal death. Robin did not find it so, but Gloriana had always been unusual, to say the least.

  “So, have you become a player yourself, Robin?” She faced him now. “Does the court jester now think to play the king?”

  “No.” He did not rise to the bait. “This fool thinks only to serve the one he should never have stopped serving.”

  “Well said. I hope it is true. And how good is your reason to believe that you will find support?”

  “Excellent. There is one in particular who bitterly regrets her decision to betray Albion.”

  Gloriana laughed out loud.

  “Oh, you romantic fool. Or is it only that your perverse sense of humor grown darker over the long years? No, it is the former, I daresay, and I love you the more for it. How you surprise me, Robin! Now, I shall surprise you. You see, it is not entirely by accident that I chose to retire here, of all places, at Oxford. Have you ever heard of the Hellfire Club?”