Archon(26)

She tossed the metal at his shoes, returning to what was left of his student’s remains, disdaining his presence. The ring clattered to a stop, jaundiced in the poor light.

Kim wouldn’t cry, but at the sound of the first bite, he turned from the scene and retched.





Six



There is very little difference between angels and demons. Except that demons have stopped pretending to be perfect.



—THE DEMON PYTHON, TRANSCRIBED FROM The Lies of Babylon





The sun slanted its last rays into the archbishop’s office, illuminating the statues, the leather armchairs, even the snuffed candlewicks with a fine outline of gold. The room was cozy, but its enormous double windows spanned most of a wall, offering an impressive view of Luz and the lower tiers of the Academy. Expense, opulence. The perfect choice for a priest with too much money on his hands. For the briefest moment, St. Mary’s Cathedral, its steeple rising like a brown spike above the buildings surrounding the lower courtyard, looked like it was on fire. Then the clouds began to take over again, and Westwood’s outlying properties dropped back into an ominous grayness.

Stephanie peered toward the west, searching for the tufts of the Tree hidden in Memorial Park, but darkness stole over the world fast, and soon she was perusing the lights blinking into existence throughout the city.

A crow soared toward the window, as if out of nowhere.

She flinched, brought back to reality while its feet scraped across the glass. Ruffling its black feathers, the bird settled on the outer sill and cocked its head toward the sound of the archbishop’s voice. Naamah glanced at the crow from the corner of her dark eyes, an agitated twitch tugging at her mouth. She sat at Stephanie’s right, squeaking in her seat whenever she shifted position, tapping her chin, suggesting she was dangerously bored.

“. . . ah, yes, here we are.” The archbishop finished rifling through a stack of papers and set them in front of him on the desk, finally placing his folded hands on top. “But, of course, I can’t give you this information without anything in return.”

He had a thunderous voice even in such a stuffy room, and a mass of gray hair that seemed overly combed. Stephanie examined the brass nameplate near the candelabra again.

His Eminence Gregory T. Solomon, Archbishop of Luz.

“So what are you suggesting?” she said softly. “Another deal?”

Stephanie set her jaw, tense.

The archbishop stared shortly at Naamah, but flicked his gaze away as she stared back, hard and uncompromising. The demon had her hood up, yet if her fine features and copper skin wouldn’t give her away, the Theban tattoo inked alongside her neck and collarbone would. These priests weren’t as stupid as they acted sometimes. Luz was a world where the supernatural constantly kissed the mundane, and the archbishop was dealing with a demon sitting in his office surprisingly well.

“These murders,” he continued, “taking place in the city. From what I understand, our little truce has been paying out profitably for us both until now. But if the Pentacle Sorority continues its mistakes on a daily basis, we’re going to have a major problem on our hands. Already, I have three junior exorcists lined up, itching to test their skills—”

Naamah slammed her hands on the desk, standing abruptly. She loomed over the archbishop, blond braids dangling out of her hood’s mouth. The demon’s cloak had turned her into a living shadow, swiftly matching the whispers of night that began to overwhelm the room. The glow of the wall sconces wavered, as if her presence oppressed them.

“Your arrogance,” she whispered, “annoys me, priest.”

“I thought you had her under your control,” he hissed at Stephanie, never taking his eyes off Naamah. His round face was blanching quickly to a pasty white.

Stephanie kept her smile. His reaction was a lot of fun to watch. “The sorority? No. We know enough to keep our messes hidden.”

“Then who?” he shot back at her, trying not to tremble under Naamah’s scrutiny.

The demon hadn’t budged, clenching the wood like a cat eager to display its claws.

How appropriate.

“An irregularity,” Naamah said slowly. Her voice was gentler this time, but no less lethal. “A rat in the walls. It’s not something you can take care of.”

“That hardly answers my question—”

Stephanie adjusted her ponytail and crossed her legs, enjoying the feel of the leather against her thighs. “There are other creatures to fear besides angels and demons, Your Eminence. In-between things.”

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

The archbishop took a breath, slumping back in his chair. He held a hand to his forehead. “God . . . How could this happen?”