3.9-3.11

-9-

            Azrael watched in a panic as in one moment he was listening to Ishitar and Na’amah and then in the next moment the pair of them were simply gone.  He knew that Na’amah’s intent was still to destroy Ishitar, even if her line of thinking was softening toward him.  And he feared with all of his heart that the dathanorna had done something to harm the child.

            For three hours he searched every corner of every world before forming himself at Lord Noliminan’s door to tell him that his son had gone missing.  He was just ready to raise his hand to knock on the door when, suddenly, he noticed Loki walking into Ishitar’s bedroom and, just as Ishitar and the dog had done, disappearing from his line of view.

            Azrael stepped backward, frowning.  Some three minutes later, Loki stepped out of the bedroom, shaking his head and wearing a troubled frown.  His thoughts were screaming the conversation that had just taken place with Ishitar and with his obsession to get back to his book to see if the word that he had asked Ishitar to translate for him would help him crack the book’s code.

            Azrael, suddenly understanding what had taken place, sighed his relief and immediately formed himself at Loki’s side.  Loki, not expecting Azrael to make an appearance, cried out in fear and spun upon him ready to attack.  When he realized that it was Azrael and not some errant threat, he glared at Azrael with a fury that Azrael had never seen on his handsomely made face.

            “What the fuck, Az?”  He growled.  “Don’t do that!”

            “Will you please step back into that room and tell Lord Ishitar that I am in no mood for his games and that he must put himself back into my attentions?”  Azrael replied to this.  He wasn’t interested in Loki’s anger for Azrael’s sudden appearance or for his fear that Azrael would reprimand him for trying to read Lord Raziel’s book. 

            “What?”  Loki asked, his expression smoothing into confusion.  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

            “No.”  Azrael replied.  “But it will mean something to Ishitar.”

            Loki, still confused, shrugged.  He turned around and re-entered Ishitar’s bedroom, disappearing from Azrael’s line of sight.  Not even a minute later, both Ishitar and the dog were suddenly returned to Azrael’s view.

            Bemused, Azrael shook his head and slipped into the bedroom.  Loki looked from one to the other of them and then excused himself.  His thoughts were no longer on either Azrael or Ishitar.  They were back with his obsession over the book.

            “I am most displeased with you, young man.”  Azrael snapped as he crossed his arms over his chest.

            “I haven’t seen him since I left.”  He spat.  “And he wasn’t home anyway.  All that I did was pick his Gods be damned apples for him so that he might make a pie.  You know that he likes to make his pies.  And he can’t pick the apples himself with his deformity.” 

            Azrael, not understanding a word that he was saying, frowned.  “What are you talking about?”

            “You know damn well.”  Ishitar snapped at him.

            Azrael, having rarely seen Ishitar in such a mood, let out a long, tired sigh.  As he did so, he realized that the part of him watching Zadkiel saw that Zadkiel had entered his cottage to find a bowl of apples on his table.  He was staring at them with a curious smile, reaching for one so that he could take a bite of it.

            “Alright.”  Azrael sighed.  “I understand.  You’ve been to see Zadkiel.”

            “After what Lucias said to me?”  Lord Ishitar grumbled.  “You bet I did.”  Then, snapping again, “He’s the only one that has ever loved me so why wouldn’t I visit him?”

            Azrael shook his head at that.  “You know that isn’t the case.  I love you.  All of your brother’s love you.”  He smiled softly.  “And, despite Lord Lucias’ behavior today, he loves you as well.”

            “No you don’t.”  He replied angrily to this.  “None of you do.  I’m an obligation that was thrust upon you because my parents had no time for me!  Not one of you have ever treated me as anything other than that.  None of you, that is, but for Zadkiel!”

            Frowning, Azrael stepped toward Ishitar’s bed and lowered himself upon it.  “Is that really how you feel?”

            “Yes.”  He replied.  “It is really how I feel.”  Then, reaching for Na’amah’s head to scratch between her ears.  “You, of all people, know that’s how I feel.”

            “No.”  Azrael shook his head.  “I don’t.”

            “Of course you do.”  Ishitar replied.  “You told me that you see and feel everything that I see and feel.”

            Azrael found himself looking at Ishitar with deep puzzlement.  “No.”  He said.  “Not you.  Or your parents.”

            Ishitar looked at him with an irritated sigh.  “You told me that—“

            “Do you remember a conversation that we had when you were very young?”  Azrael asked him.  “When you first realized the extent of my powers?”

            Ishitar shook his head.

            “You told me that—while you have no problem with me being able to see you—you weren’t comfortable with me knowing your thoughts.”  Azrael reminded him.  “I haven’t been able to hear them since that day.”

            Ishitar’s brow furrowed.  “You haven’t?”

            “No.”  Azrael replied.  “And today you obviously didn’t want me to see you, either.  And I couldn’t.”

            Ishitar shook his head in confusion.  “I didn’t tell you not to see me.”

            “You may not have told me directly.”  Azrael replied, frowning.   “But you did disappear from my line of sight.  And the minute that Loki told you to allow me to see you, you did return to it.”

            “I can’t . . .” Ishitar raised his hand to his face and began rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Azrael knew that he was getting another one of his headaches.  “Fine.  Let’s say that I can disappear from your line of sight.  Good.  There are times when I need my privacy.”

            Azrael looked at him for a long, long time.  Finally he said.  “You feel like Zadkiel is the only one that loves you.”  He said.  “Fine.  Visit him if you like without fear of my telling.  And have your privacy if you want it.  But you have to let me know when you intend to block me before you do so.  I’ve spent half the night searching for you in a panic.”

            “It isn’t like I can control it.”  Ishitar snapped.  “I didn’t even know that I did it.”

            Azrael sighed at that.  “Very well.”  He acquiesced.  “But from now on, I want you to actively think about me every two hours.  If you disappear from my line of sight and don’t reappear within two hours time then I will have no choice but to tell your father that you’ve gone missing.”

            Ishitar opened his mouth to admonish Azrael for being a tattler but Azrael stopped him.

            “If he finds out that you’ve been visiting Zadkiel—or that I can’t see you and I never told him as much—it’s Zadkiel and I who will be punished.”  He advised Ishitar.  “Not you.  And more severely than either of us has ever been punished before.  Zadkiel’s crippled leg will appear child’s play as to what will happen to me for withholding your games from him.”  He looked away lest Ishitar see the pain in his eyes.  “He’s certainly done worse to me than that before.”

            Ishitar’s expression softened.  He let out a long, tired sigh and then nodded.  “I promise.”

            Azrael reached for his hand and squeezed it.  “We love you, Ishitar.  We Quorum.  All twelve of us.  You have never been a burden to any one of us.  But a bright light that shines throughout our otherwise dreary days.  Regardless of what you believe.”

            Ishitar turned his gaze to Azrael and gave him a tender, and very apologetic, smile.  “I guess that I know that.  I’m just . . .” He shook his head.  “When Lucias denied me as his son, it very much hurt my feelings.”

            “He didn’t deny you as his son.”  Azrael corrected him.  “He denied that he was your mother.  And he did so to protect you.”

            Ishitar shrugged.

            Azrael, realizing that he wouldn’t change Ishitar’s perception of what had taken place, smiled.  “Don’t scare me like that again.”

            “I won’t.”  He promised.

            Azrael gave him another smile and then left him to the privacy that he so obviously required.

                       

-10-

           

            Wisterian threw the letter onto the table and then pounded it with his fist.  “This is the last thing in all of the worlds that we need right now.”

            Jeanir, curious as to the content of the letter flicked his eyes to Paul.  He sat across the table from Wisterian with his long legs crossed and the fingers of his right hand toying with a gold chain that he wore around his neck.  He appeared, to Jeanir, to be cautiously sorrowful. 

            “You say Iykva and the others don’t yet know?”

            “They don’t.”  Paul replied.  “James was clear on the fact that he had no intention of telling them.”

            “How did he learn of it?”

            “His friend Samyael.”  Paul muttered.  “Loki’s demon.  Aiken sent him to warn James of what was to come.”

            “Of course.”  Wisterian, frowning, slipped the letter across the table to Balean.  Jeanir watched Balean read the letter, paling as he did so.  “Have you eaten, Paul?”

            “I . . .” Paul sighed.  “No.  I didn’t want to waste any time in delivering James’ message to you.”

            “Jeanir.”  Jeanir turned his gaze away from Balean to meet Wisterian’s gaze.  “Take him to your bedchamber and feed him.”

            Frowning, Jeanir stood.  Letting the dirty vampire at his neck was the last thing on his agenda.  But he’d obviously come with an important message and Jeanir knew that when Balean had visited the demons Paul had been courteous and had fed him.  Also, he knew that Wisterian needed to talk to Balean without Paul overhearing them.  “Of course.”

            “That’s not necessary.”  Paul replied, shifting uncomfortably.  “I can catch something on my way to the lair outside—“

            “You won’t be sleeping in a lair.”  Wisterian replied to this. “Go with Jeanir.  He’ll show you an apartment where you can sleep without fear of the sun touching your skin.”

            Paul sighed—which was a pretty neat trick for a corpse—and gave Jeanir a troubled smile.  “That’s kind.”

            Jeanir, his lips thinned, nodded.  He turned away from Wisterian and Balean and led Paul through Wisterian’s apartment to the rooms where Iladrul would house his doxies when the time came for the lad to engage in such practices.  There was no way on any earth under any moon that the disgusting creature was sleeping in his bed.

            Once in the bedroom, Jeanir turned to him and began to tug on his skirt.  “I don’t really know how you go about doing this.”

            Paul flicked his eyes to the bed and back to Jeanir.  “I really don’t think that the bed is necessary.”

“Wisterian is my Master.”  Jeanir replied as he began to unbutton the side of his skirt.  “I have to do what he tells me to do.”

            “I don’t . . .” Paul cleared his throat and stepped forward.  He slapped Jeanir’s hand away from the button on his skirt.  “I know that angels and demons don’t hold to such limitations, but I was human before I became a vampire, never having earned my wings, and I’m strictly heterosexual.”

            Jeanir started at that.  He had been under the distinct impression that Paul and Jamiason were lovers.  He felt his wings flick wide behind him, snap and then fall back to their rights.  As they did so, Paul’s green eyes—Gods but they are so similar in color to Iladrul’s that it is very nearly creepy; all of Paul’s coloring matches Iladrul’s in fact . . . is that why Jamiason has chosen him to be his companion? Because, other than the beard, he could be Iladrul when Iladrul becomes a man?—grew wide and his lips fell slightly lax. 

            “I didn’t mean to offend you, but—“

            “I’m not offended.”  Jeanir replied as a nervous laugh escaped from his throat.  The thought that this man was to be a King only because of Jamiason’s obsession with Iladrul was troubling to him.  “I’m relieved.   I have little and less desire to bed you.”

            Paul’s eyes fell from Jeanir’s wings to his gaze.  As they did so, an expression of pure relief flooded his handsome features.  “No compunctions then.”

            Jeanir laughed at that, despite himself.  “What do you need me to do?”

            Paul shrugged and stepped toward him.  He hesitated for a moment before muttering, “I’m sorry, but intimacy cannot be avoided where this particular task is concerned.”

            “Don’t be sorry.”  Jeanir replied, still holding his gaze.  He was suddenly very curious given Paul’s statement that he found no pleasure with other males and yet he was forced to an intimate act.

            Paul gave him a tight smile, raised his hand and slid it behind Jeanir’s neck.  When he bent toward Jeanir the whiskers of his beard tickled Jeanir’s neck, making the angel laugh.  The laugh was short lived, however.  The tickle was followed by two sharp pricks to his neck and a flood of images in Jeanir’s mind that were not his own.

            As Jeanir watched the images of Paul’s life flash within his mind, his respect for the vampire grew.  Paul was not the laughing fool that he appeared to be.  Rather, he was a sadly miserable man who had lost everything in life that he cared for on the day that he had been made into the walking corpse that he now was.  Paul’s constant jokes, Jeanir understood, were his way of dealing with the dark shadows that lurked within his heart.

            After the span of Paul’s human life passed through Jeanir’s mind came his time with Jamiason.  And his concerns for Iladrul, both at the hands of Iykva and his demons and by way of Jamiason’s obsession with bedding the young elf.  Paul, like Jeanir, was mortified and horrified by Jamiason’s desire for the child.  And he had vowed to interfere if Jamiason were to attempt to seduce or overpower the young elf before he had passed his tests of manhood.

            Knowing this, Jeanir allowed himself to fall completely under Paul’s spell and into his heart and mind.  Enough so that he was regretful when he felt the dance of Paul’s tongue over the wounds he had made to seal them and then pull hesitantly away after gently kissing Jeanir on the flesh just behind his ear.

            With a long sigh, Jeanir opened his eyes and gave Paul a warm smile.  Paul, whose brow was furrowed, smiled hesitantly in return.

            “Better?”  Jeanir asked him.

            “Yes.”  He nodded.  “Thank you for allowing me to feed from you.”

            “Honestly, it was surprisingly my pleasure.”  He raised his hand and set it upon Paul’s shoulder.  “I feel I’ve come to know you better somehow.”

            “It’s a side effect of the feeding.”  Paul shrugged.  “You see the images of my mind and I see the images of yours.  I can glamour you to forget them if you like.”

            “You—“  Jeanir cleared his throat.  He didn’t want to forget what he had come to know of Paul, so he ignored that offer.  “You saw my life as I saw yours?”

            “I did.”  Paul replied, cocking his head to the side.  “But you have no worry.  I’m not a gossip.  And your business is not mine.”

            Jeanir, having spent the last few minutes embedded in Paul’s mind, knew that to be the case.  He gave Paul a grateful smile.  “Life is hard.”

            “Life is hard.”  He agreed.

            “Shall we return to Wisterian?”

            “I really don’t think that he sent me here to feed simply for my comfort.”  Paul grinned at him.  “Do you?”

            “No.”  Jeanir chuckled.  Paul had, after all, read his mind.  “He wanted you out of the room.”  Then with a furrowed brow, because this he had not seen.  “What did the letter say?”

            “That you’re about to become a hermaphrodite again.”  He replied, his lips thin. 

            Jeanir felt as if he’d been slapped.  “No . . .”

            “I’m sorry.”  He sighed.  “But I spoke with Lord Lucias myself and he confirmed it.”

            “You—“  Jeanir licked his lips.    “How is he?”

            “He seems fine.”  Paul shrugged.  “I didn’t know him before his exile, however.  So I’m not certain.”

            Jeanir nodded.  Paul had been born long after Jeanir’s revolution.  Which was a hundred and seventy eight thousand years after Lord Lucias’.  Of course he hadn’t known him.   “Honestly, neither did I.  I remember seeing him at Council from the feet of the God that I served.”  He chuckled and shook his head.  “I remember the vote over Loki’s beard.”

            Paul, who having just fed from Jeanir know which God Jeanir had served as well as the terrible things that that God had done to him, grinned at that.  Lord Noliminan had ordered Lord Lucias to have Loki shave his beard.  Lord Lucias had defied the order by wrapping the issue up in a barter that he had made with Lord Noliminan over whether or not Adam would eat an apple from an apple tree in Eden.  Though Eve had been the one to be blamed for having eaten the apple, the Gods knew the truth of the matter and Loki, as a result, was allowed to keep his beard because Adam had failed the test.  “Once, when Aiken was leaving Jamiason flowers, he brought Loki with him.  I really like him.”

            “I’ve never met him.”  Jeanir admitted with some regret.  “But from what I know about him, I’m fairly certain that I would like him as well.”

            Paul nodded.  “I’d like to say hello to Prince Iladrul when he wakes up in the morning.”  His tone was tight.  Jeanir knew he had no desire at all to see the youngling elf.  “Jamiason will ask me how he looks.”

            Jeanir felt his lips thin at that.  “Yes.  I’m certain that he will.”

            “I really don’t think he means the elf any harm.”  Paul muttered.  It was clear to Jeanir, however, that Paul wasn’t entirely sure.

            “Nor do I.”  Jeanir sighed. “But it’s concerning.”

            “Yes.”  Paul agreed. “It’s extremely concerning.” 

-11-

              

            Zamyael had just been readying herself for bed when she heard the knock on the door.  Frowning, she pulled a robe over her shoulders and made her way through Lord Raziel’s sitting room to the front door.  When she opened it, she did so with an irritated frown. 

            Until, that was, she saw Ishitar and his dog standing on the other side. 

            Her frown immediately turned into a grin.  “My Lord.  Raziel isn’t here tonight.”

            “That’s alright, my Lady.”  He replied, smiling softly.  “I’ve come to see you if you don’t mind the company.”

            “Not a wit.”  Her smile grew.  She stepped back, pulling the door with her.  “Please.  Come in.  Let me fix you something to drink.”

            “I’d like scotch if you have any.”  He replied to that as he slipped into the door.   The dog looked up at her with its strange, mismatched eyes before following him in.  “Make it a double.”

            “A trying day?”

            “A very trying day.”  He smiled at her as he watched her close the door and walk toward the bar.  “Will you speak candidly with me, Lady Zamyael?”

            “Always.”  Zamyael replied, looking over her shoulder and giving him a very open smile.  She loved him for acknowledging her true nature.

            “Loki told me that you were my wet nurse when I was a baby.” 

            She swiftly looked back to the glasses and poured two generous servings of scotch.  When she turned to face him it was with guarded curiosity.  As she handed him the glass she said, “That’s correct.”

            “Why?”  He asked.   “And why, really, are you now a man?”

            Sighing she indicated Lord Raziel’s favorite chair.  “Please.  If we must talk about this I should feel better doing so sitting down.” Ishitar smiled at her and took a seat.  She followed, taking a sip of her scotch before asking, “Why is this important to you?”

            “Because I know nothing about either one of my parents.”  Ishitar replied.  “Noliminan hardly even acknowledges my existence.  When he does he’s all business or insults toward Lucias.  And Lucias abandoned me to the Quorum to be raised.  I want to understand why neither one of them wanted me.”

            “If you believe that Lucias didn’t want you then you are sadly mistaken.”  Zamyael replied softly.  “Giving you away was the hardest decision that he has ever had to make in his overly long life.  You of all of his children . . . You’re the only one that he was allowed to birth as a woman.”

            Ishitar shook his head, choosing not to respond to the majority of that pretty little speech.  “Yet he did choose to give me away.”

            Zamyael couldn’t refute that.  She lowered her gaze and sighed.  “Yes, Ishitar.  For his war against your father’s beliefs and orders.  And to protect the army of angels and demons that had run to him for succor from the cruelty dealt them at the hands of their Gods.  He did choose to allow you to the Quorum.”

            Ishitar took a drink and said, “Lucias is cunning.”

            “He is.”  Zamyael agreed.

            “And Noliminan?”  Zamyael felt her brow furrow.  In the two prior conversations that she had had with Ishitar, he had referred to his parents as his father and his mother.  Yet, today, he was calling them by name.  “Is he insane?”

            Zamyael lowered her gaze.  He had asked her for honesty and she had promised to give it to him.  “Perhaps if he were then his actions would be forgivable.”

            Ishitar’s expression softened slightly as his eyes danced over her face.

            She raised her gaze to meet his.  “No, Ishitar.  Your father is not insane.”  She began toying with one of her braids.  “He’s paranoid.”

            “What does he have to be paranoid about?”  Ishitar asked. “Everything that exists that would stand against him does so by his creation and his treatment of it.”

            “I honestly have no idea.”  Zamyael admitted.  “But it’s always been so.”  She shrugged.  “I suppose that he’s paranoid that Lucias will realize just how powerful a God he is and overtake him.” 

            “If the two were to war,” Ishitar asked, “and I mean really war, not just this supplication that Lucias has given to him by agreeing to the laws of his exile,” Zamyael nodded.  “Could Lucias best Noliminan?”

            “I believe that you have just posed the ultimate question.”  Zamyael smiled at him.

             His eyes began dancing over her face again.  She felt herself swallow under his regard.  She wasn’t entirely sure what he thought of her.  She wanted him to love her as much as she loved him.  She supposed that was far too much to ask for. 

            “Why are you really a man?” 

            “There are some things, Ishitar,” she warned him, “that you might not want to truly know about.”

            “Perhaps I need to know them.”  Ishitar replied.  “I have a choice, Zam.  I can become my father.  I can become my mother.  Or I can simply become me.”  She smiled at that.  “I’d prefer to become the third person and I can’t do that if I repeat the mistakes of my parents.”

            Maybe so, Zamyael thought, But that statement alone proves that you are very much your mother’s son.

            “I am a man now because your father has a penchant for raping me when I am a woman.”  She told him candidly.  “I was born a Goddess.”  He nodded.  Loki must have shared this with him too because he didn’t seem surprised.  “I was meant to be Lucias’ wife.”

            “Lucias was a man by then.”  Ishitar muttered.  “No one has shared this with me but I know from Lucias’ behavior that Lucias was born a woman.  Lucias seems most comfortable—to me—in the female skin.”

            “He was.  Yes.”  She agreed, surprised by his wit.  “And, he is.  And would prefer to live as a women even today.  But he shares that with no one under Noliminan’s command that he be a man and hide his secret heart so it’s best that you don’t speak of it again.”  Ishitar nodded his understanding.  “Lucias told me that the pair of them tried to have a baby amongst themselves for many ages but were seemingly unable to.  So they created Raziel and I to take on that burden because they had no choice.”

            “Then you weren’t really born.” 

            Trig.  “No.”  Zamyael replied.  “I was created from Lucias and Raziel was created from Noliminan.”

            “I understand.”  He nodded. 

            “Lucias still lived very much in his feminine energy when I was young.”  She lowered his gaze.  “And so he was patient with me.  He waited for me to fall in love with him before he attempted to . . .” 

            He reached for her hand and squeezed it.  He didn’t let it go.  She loved him for that.

            “Before he would take you to his bed.”

            “Ta.”  She smiled at him.  The smile faded fast.  “Noliminan was not so patient.  He took Lucias’ empathy for little more than feminine weakness.  And he became angry after Raziel became pregnant with Raguel that I was as yet untouched.”

            “Because you weren’t doing what he had created you to do and he took it as defiance.”

            “That’s right.”  She was amazed at his ability to reason.  This boy—nay, this man—was a force to be reckoned with.  She wondered if his parents understood that.  “And he decided that if Lucias wouldn’t force me to do what he had created me to do than he, himself, would.”

            “Then he took your virginity.”

            “He did.”  She nodded at him.  “Lucias was furious.  They fought.  I’ll spare you the details of what came next because it is ugly and because it all amounts to the same thing.  Noliminan finally decided that the best way to put me in my place so that he could continue to have at me without Lucias’ interference was to turn me into a demon.”  She flapped her wings to make a point.  “Lucias, in response, made me male so that he would no longer want me.”

            Ishitar’s eyes narrowed slightly and his brow furrowed.  “I know that you love Lucias.”

            “I do.”  She smiled at him.

            “But don’t you think that his turning you into a male for the sole purpose of sticking it to Noliminan is just as horrible as Noliminan turning you into a demon to stick it to Lucias?”

            Zamyael started at that.  She had never looked at her plight in quite that manner.  She had always believed that what Lucias had done to her had been borne of his love.  She couldn’t believe otherwise now.  “Lucias didn’t . . . “

            Ishitar sighed.  “Perhaps I have the wrong of things.”

            Zamyael swallowed and nodded.  She lowered her gaze. 

            What if he’s right?

            “Thank you for talking with me, Zamyael.”  His tone was gentle.

            “Of course.”  She replied, meeting his gaze again.  She realized, as she did so, that he still held her hand.  She squeezed his.  “The day that Azrael pulled you from my arms was the second worse day of my life.”

            The first, of course, being the day that Lucias had necessarily taken Zamyael’s ill begot dathanorna from her in order to protect her and the child.  But that was one secret that only she, Lucias and Azrael shared.

            “Well I’m here now.”  Ishitar replied.  “And I will let no one come between us again.”

            Knowing Ishitar’s parents far better than Ishitar did, Zamyael doubted that he would have much say should he be ordered not to see her any more.  Never mind that her service was to Raziel and that Raziel was already jealous of her attachment to the young man.  She had no doubt that if Raziel were come to believe that Ishitar held her in higher regard than Raziel that Raziel would prohibit her from ever seeing Ishitar again.

            Still, looking upon his handsome face, his expression stern and hard, she took comfort in the fact that he intended to try.