Azazel asked her which angel she wanted to try conjuring first. He sat across her dining table, sipped his tea, and began to explain why they should probably avoid summoning an archangel for their first attempt. She cut in before he could finish. “Daniel!” He was the only other angel she’d seen who wasn’t swallowing people alive. Sure, he’d been locking lips with the Black Armada’s commodore at the time, and that had certainly disturbed Bryony to some degree. But now she felt quite differently about it.
Azza looked confused. “But Daniel’s a watcher, darling. He was bound when I was.”
A watcher? That explained a lot about him. She’d come to think of watchers the way she’d come to think of nephilim—as anti-angels. “He’s not bound. I’ve seen him.” She was actually excited to meet the cherub again. This time, she would face him and stand tall and not run away.
“Are you certain it was Daniel you saw?”
Bryony nodded. “At least Michael seemed sure when he told me who it was. The angel was a cherub—I remember that—and his light was very bronze.”
Azza’s eyes welled a bit as Bryony described the cherub she’d seen on Dragonfly that dark night. He muttered, “Dani,” and bit back a grin. He was still staring into his tea, smiling to himself when Bryony tapped his hand to bring him back. He glanced up. “Are you sure you want to summon Daniel, little orb-weaver? He may prove a challenge. As far as I know, he hasn’t spoken a word since he broke his oath to sire a child. He refused to defend himself when judgment finally came for the watchers. He didn’t want to choose between lying and betraying our chief captain, so he vowed silence until silence became part of his nature. What I mean to say is, that cherub is beyond obstinate. For years, he refused to answer to the name the humans gave him. There’s no guarantee he’ll do so now.”
Bryony just blinked at him. “I’m sorry, did you say humans named him?”
“And me. Did you think we came with these names? In our world, sound is for worship, not communication. Only our god had a spoken name, and that name was a secret revealed to very few. Even our species were named by men.”
“So your species . . . What was it again?”
“Ishim, darling. Ish.”
“You mean humans decided to call your kind ishim?”
“Yes.”
“And your name wasn’t Azazel before you came to our world?” He shook his head. She could hardly believe it. “Did you have anything like a name in your world?”
“I did. I still do.”
“What is it?”
He hummed in thought. “Do you really want to know?”
“I really do.”
“Then hold still.” Azza brought his chair close and set her teacup aside. Then he leaned in and positioned one hand on either side of her face. “This will feel like a kiss, but don’t fret. It’s just an introduction.”
For a moment, Bryony had the urge to push him away, but she was certain doing so would be intolerably rude. After all, this was just a cultural difference, wasn’t it? How offensive would it be to refuse to learn a person’s name? Very, she decided. While she was busy overanalyzing her situation, Azza barely touched his lips to hers and let out a long, cold breath. That was all it took.
She knew him. His true name was the memory of a feeling.
Long ago, Bryony had stood on a hillside at dawn and stared out at a frozen landscape. There were drifts of snow, and delicate icicles hung from the twigs and branches of dormant trees. Sunlight refracted through tiny ice crystals that were suspended in the air like dust. When she squinted, she saw little rainbows everywhere. A reflection of beauty. A dance of light. She’d wanted to stare at that spectacle forever.
When Azza pulled away at last, Bryony had to steady herself on the table. “That’s . . .” She grappled with what to say. “That’s such a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” His smile was full of unmistakable pride. “If you like, one day, I’ll show you the name I’ve given you.” Bryony gaped at him. But of course he’d named her. Humans had named the otherworldly creatures that crashed into their reality. Humans had called them angels. Why would angels not name humans in turn? Azza chuckled at her astonishment. “Shall we summon Daniel while you remember my name? It might help to encourage trust.”
“I won’t forget your name,” she said, and she meant it. It was like one of those names she wanted to repeat again and again just to hear the music of it. Now she knew how inadequate the word Azazel truly was.
He smiled and held both her hands in his. “Stay close, little orb-weaver.” She looked away and breathed through the fear as he transformed into a glacial creature. She recalled his name as he melted under her skin and raced through her veins. She recalled dancing with him, playing a duet with him, singing “Annabel Lee.” She gave him her body, her hands, and her voice. She gave him her autonomy—lent it, really—because she knew he wouldn’t keep it. He’d never take more than he needed. He’d never ask for more than she was willing to give.
With him, building the salt circle was second nature. The words they wrote into it were like old friends. The song they sang was a familiar anthem, and the language they spoke sounded like home. When the web and lure were complete, Bryony spoke the summons in English. “I command you, Daniel, appear in my circle in fair and comely form without noise or deformity. Come now, angel—visibly, peacefully, affably—without delay. Speak to me in a clear and perfect voice.”
In the dim light of her oven lamp, Bryony began to make out the shape of her prey. It filled the space. It was animal, and it was human. It had row upon row of long, sharp teeth. Its wings curled against the ceiling of her kitchen, and she had to shield her eyes from its brilliant, bronze light.
“Appear as a man within the boundaries I have drawn,” she clarified. “Come now, Daniel. Speak to me. I command you.” Her tongue knew the right words to say—even though she didn’t—but Daniel struggled to disobey. His form shifted. His faces shrank. His claws clenched in the air. He was indeed obstinate. Then Bryony remembered something Azza had told her about the angel she was attempting to summon, and she sent a thought to her possessor. Don’t command him to speak. Respect his vow.
She felt Azazel’s smile, warm and proud. In her voice, he said, “Keep your silence, Daniel, but appear before me now.”
A shape materialized within the circle, and Bryony recognized him as the same man she’d seen kissing the commodore on the quarterdeck. He manifested a physically impressive body with a broad chest, sandy hair, and sharp features. One pair of batlike wings clung to his body like a garment, crossing at his waist and curling around to his back. The other pair stretched to the ceiling and repeatedly drew her attention by scraping the plaster.
Azazel leapt into the circle, threw Bryony’s arms around Daniel’s neck, and kissed both the angel’s cheeks with her mouth. “Dani!” he cried. “How I missed you!”
Bryony did her best to hide her horror as the massive cherub squinted down at her. It’s not me! she wanted to shout at him. She wouldn’t dare be so familiar with a stranger, let alone an angelic one. And after a botched conjuration too. She was just beginning to think she couldn’t possibly be more mortified when Azza handed her body back to her. He left her hanging from the neck of a creature who was at least twice her size, even in his significantly reduced shape. She immediately let go, dropped to her feet, and failed to look nonchalant.
Azza quickly retrieved a notepad and pen and handed it to Daniel. The cherub wrote and showed the message to Bryony while he glowered at Azazel. The message read simply, What the fuck?
Azza laughed. “I’ll brew some tea. Sit, Dani. Make yourself comfortable. We have so much to discuss.”
Daniel did not sit, and Bryony mouthed an apology to him. His expression softened, and he wrote, Fear not. I know his ways. Then he added, The circle, and nodded down at the web she’d built.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You can’t cross it. How do I fix that?”
Break it.
“Right.”
She dragged a foot through the salt circle just as Azza was saying, “Now don’t be angry, Dani. We needed to practice, and my little orb-weaver chose to summon you first. It’s an honor really. You should be quite pleased.”
Bryony cringed and tried to explain herself. “I’d seen you before on Dragonfly, so I knew you were one of the good angels.”
Daniel cocked his head. Then his face lit up with recognition, and he wrote, Bryony the traitor? He stepped from the circle as Bryony’s hand flew to her forehead.
“Yes, I know, I know,” she said quickly. “And I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone . . . Well, except the godhunter, but you saw how that turned out for me.”
The cherub winked down at her, and Bryony got her first inkling that the beast had a sense of humor. Perhaps she wasn’t about to be flattened into her own kitchen floor, after all.
Daniel pulled a chair out for himself and shrank down enough to fit comfortably into it. He eased his wings around the chairback and let them droop as he sat. He seemed strangely attached to his wings. Bryony wondered why for a moment before the cherub showed her his notepad again. How is Michael?
Was there any good way to answer that? “The demon king has taken him and refuses to give him back.”
Daniel scowled and wrote, Ashmedai can be an asshole.
“Yes.” Bryony nodded vigorously. She was beginning to see why Raeni liked this cherub. “I agree.”
Azazel set three cups of tea with saucers and sugar cubes onto the table. “Scoot.” He shifted Bryony’s chair closer to Daniel to make room for himself. Now she was wedged between a titan and a chimera, both of whom were capable of swallowing her whole. She hoped she wasn’t letting her discomfort show. Still they had to know she was terrified. Azazel confirmed it by whispering, “I added some liquid courage to yours, darling. I hope you don’t mind.”
Whisky, thank god. Azza was a true friend, angel or no. She sipped at her tea gratefully while he explained everything to the cherub. He finished on a somber note. “I’d be a fool not to admit I had a hand in the binding of Raphael, but you know why I did it, Dani. Now I just want to make it right.”
Daniel arched an eyebrow at his fellow watcher. Despicable, he wrote. But impressive.
“I couldn’t have done it without Ash, you must know. But now Loki has demanded the archangel’s release, and our host here has convinced me to acquiesce.”
At the name Loki, Daniel rose from his chair. Bryony recoiled from the barely suppressed rage in his expression. He scribbled in his notebook. Don’t let me see that monster’s face!
Azza’s mouth dropped open. “Goodness! Such passion.”
Bryony felt the need to defend the cherub, whose anger, she thought, was more than justified. “Loki took Daniel’s shape and made out with his girlfriend.” Then she considered what she was saying. “Kind of like what you did to me.”
For the briefest moment, Azza’s expression darkened. He looked so troubled she almost regretted pointing out his transgression. What he’d done, he’d done to save his granddaughter’s life, and Bryony had already forgiven him for it. She wanted to reassure him, but he quickly found his smile again and began eagerly questioning the cherub. “A girlfriend? Dani, this is so exciting. Tell me everything. Who is she? How did you meet her? What’s she like?”
Bryony wished she could shrink down in her chair and disappear. Daniel glared at her like she’d just spoiled Santa for a room full of children. He wrote, Not your business, Azza.
“I suppose it’s not.” Azazel sighed. “So much for small talk then.”
The large cherub sat back down and massaged his brow. Bryony got the impression he tolerated no nonsense, which was definitely something he had in common with Raeni. No wonder they got along so well. The kiss she’d accidentally witnessed flashed through her mind, and she blushed at the memory. It was so tender, so sweet, so private. Daniel was right. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his own. She gulped and missed Michael so much she nearly cried.
Azza shook off his disappointment and got to the point. “Well, Ash won’t allow us to unbind Raphael, and now the precocious petal is keeping a hostage. Don’t be hard on him,” he added when Daniel scowled again. “He has a few good reasons to hate the archangel. Until recently, I felt the same. The trouble is, as I’m sure you know, our friends in the heavens have intentionally crippled scientific advancement. Mortals need the Angel of Healing now more than ever.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “In particular, my own descendant.”
Before he’d quite finished his explanation, Daniel wrote a message and flashed it at him. And her. The cherub pointed to Bryony.
“Well, yes, obviously.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes and added, I smell reverence.
Azza looked taken aback. “It’s not what you think it is, Dani.”
Daniel stabbed at his notepad with the pen, emphasizing what he’d just written. Then he scribbled again. His handwriting was so hurried that Bryony struggled to read it at first. You’ve found a new god. Does she know it?
“Yes,” Azza muttered. “And I’ve been duly chastised.”
Now Daniel wrote to Bryony. Good. He’ll try worship again. Don’t allow it.
“Please, Dani. You say that like I’m some kind of monster.” Azza forced a smile.
You are. Daniel underlined for emphasis.
Azazel said nothing in response. The history between the watchers was ancient. Bryony knew she couldn’t begin to understand it, but she also knew she would never forget the artificial smile her friend wore now. It was so many things at once—fear, anger, pain. It was everything but happiness.
Finally, Daniel withdrew his notepad, and Azazel dropped his smile.
“This is ridiculous.” Bryony stood and collected the empty teacups. “Azza’s done nothing he should be ashamed of. He stumbled once and stopped the second I asked him to. He hasn’t stumbled again. Anyway, none of this matters when it comes to getting medicine back, and that’s all I care about right now. So it was lovely to see you again, Daniel, but Azza and I have a lot more work to do if we’re going to conjure an archangel in two days. Please, say hello to Raeni for me.”
She meant to hurry Daniel out the door, but the cherub stayed anchored to his chair and glowered at Azazel who laughed nervously and said, “We don’t have a choice, darling.”
Which archangel? Though Daniel had taken the time to write the question, if Bryony were to judge based on the horrified expression he wore, he already knew the answer.
Azza looked sheepish. “It has to be Michael, Dani. We need to raise Rahab.”
That only doubled Daniel’s alarm. Raphael is in the deep?
“I’m afraid so.”
Jesus fucking Christ, Azza!
“I don’t bind by halves.” Azazel shrugged.
Daniel massaged his brow again. He looked like he was dealing with a petulant child who’d taken a prank too far. Then he began to write and tore one page after another from the notebook, laying them out on the table for both Bryony and Azza to see. It was a plan and a bold one. Daniel advised Bryony to bring all her allies to the summoning, including Loki. He made a disgusted face when he mentioned the shapeshifter, but he was determined. If the archangel Michael fought the circle, she would need every power she knew to help contain him. And they had to contain him if they wanted to survive the summoning.
Last and most shockingly, Daniel insisted the conjuration be performed aboard Dragonfly. The armada was close. Raeni had turned them north—against the prevailing winds—in pursuit of the healing sword, and the sea would weaken the archangel, though not by much.
Bryony could barely contain her influx of conflicting emotions. She was afraid to see the crew again after what she’d done to them, but she was eager, too. She wanted to beg forgiveness of Dara and Chuy. Especially Chuy. She hadn’t seen him since she was exposed as a fraud. She’d give anything for the chance to apologize to him, but she also knew the danger a conjuration like this would put him in—him and everyone else. If it all went wrong, the archangel Michael could swallow every ship in the armada without a second thought.
Then again, if she knew the crew of the Black Armada at all, there wasn’t a chance in hell they would turn this opportunity down.