Mission Log, Day 18, Monday, September 20th, 1999 (continued)
It's a few hours later, and most matters have not become more clear, but rather less clear.
As the cops investigated the murder of the female celestial, I surveyed the gathering crowd for some time, waiting to see if anyone might show any undue interest in her, like perhaps her associates, angelic or infernal. No one attracted my attention.
The cops did recognize the woman as Detective Katherine McGlade, but I didn't learn much else about her, being forced to hide the stolen wallet in the top of a tree and abandon it until a later moment. And the cops weren't saying much else of use, mostly angered at the death of a comrade and hell-bent, so to speak, on catching the murderer.
I thought I'd try my hand at that as well. Dinhabah's office was dark, but I followed an Ofanite's hunch and eventually tracked him to a house in a nicer section of time. Dawn glittered across the pane glass as I tapped on the window.
He stepped out of the kitchen calmly and deliberately, but concealed behind his leg I spied the dull weight of a pistol. Probably the same one he used last night; idly I suspected he might use it on me, now, if he thought it would be for the good of Heaven. His expression changed to irritation when he saw me, and he didn't make much effort to mask it as he came over and opened the window. "I don't like being followed."
I started to say something snide, but could see it would lead nowhere and cut it off. "I'm sorry about following you. What happened last night?" I did my best to mimic his Choir's emotionlessness and let my rather inexpressive raven face do the rest.
His expression didn't change. Hardly a blink. "What do you know?"
"I know you killed a celestial. Want to tell me why?" And while I looked him in the eye I searched his soul for cruelty and any current flight from justice. Neither. In that at least I was a little relieved.
"I can't. It was business." I gave him the perfected What-kind-of-bug-are-you? raven stare, until he added, "...mostly business. A little personal. I was plugging a leak."
A leak of information, I gathered. He killed her for going after Arashiel. So I had to wonder exactly what he told her. And who she was, for him to warrant telling her anything. And the rest of the angels in town would be wondering what happened by now. "You have to tell the others something."
"Like what?" He didn't seem particularly embittered, just at a loss. No one trusted him already, with or without reason; this would not earn him any new friends. He seemed to take my lack of response for expectation, because he went on; "Look, I will say this in confidence, as something to be repeated only between you and your Superior. Dominicans occasionally work with infernals, and particularly the Game, to hunt Renegades and Outcasts. We were on assignment here, tracking a Renegade...who turned out to be an Elohite." He allowed my thoughts to cycle through all of that...including the fact that he came to town to hunt our Traumatized comrade. "A word of warning to you. If the Game knows Bob was in town, you can bet Lust knows, too. Be careful when dealing with your little 'project.'"
Jackson? I thought there might be influence from Lust, but this little tidbit sent a cold tingle down my spine. I looked back at Dinhabah. considered asking more questions, but his already distant frown warned that he wasn't in the mood to talk anymore. I left, partially to check on my Lust candidate (my new Ethereal Song of Entropy works nicely, by the by), but mostly to puzzle things out.
The murdered celestial was a demon of the Game, if I read Dinhabah's implications correctly. He was in collusion with her, sniffing out the apparently well-hidden Bob, when he somehow leaked word of a Triad of Judgment coming to interrogate Arashiel. She passed the word along to the proper ears, and Arashiel almost got popped, not to mention we nearly lost the Tapestry. Dinhabah takes matters into his own hands and vessel-kills the demon, although whether to pass Judgment on her or save his own blabbing mouth I know not. It is clear that she certainly deserved it, but it is unclear whether Dinhabah had any sanction to do so, and whether he will be facing a Triad of his own soon. I hardly think Dominic has absolutely no opinion on the execution of an enemy/friend of Judgment.
Just as troubling to me is this sudden and unwanted obligation to keep silent about the murder. Not that I would have necessarily tattled to the others, but I went to Dinhabah expecting to tell him he was seen and suggest he come clean with them. Instead he lays out the conditions for a secret ("Now don't tell anyone but your Superior...."), then tells me the secret anyway, without my agreement. A clever manipulation, if you ask me. Of course I should tell the others about the murder of a deeply-entrenched demon of the Game by an angel who knew of her presence all along. But now if I tell them anything, Dinhabah can say I violated a trust; nothing minor either, but a big thing, something which has been rumored for years but never proven, and could cause great upheaval in Heaven if ever revealed. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I didn't ask for this tidbit of information. I didn't want it, but now I'm stuck with it, and a huge honor thing hanging over my head, when all I wanted to know in the first place was who the celestial was. Damn that Dinhabah, manipulative bastard. Damn him!
As I got back to the library, they were talking about me. I feigned nonchalance while Matt asked if I knew there'd been a murder by the creek. I wrestled with myself for some kind of compromise, some way to reveal what I knew without blowing Dinhabah's cover. "Yes...I saw the body." There, that should be pretty safe.
"Oh, really? You weren't there? One of the trees there said a raven was in its branches, didn't scare away when the gun went off."
Damn. Damn Flowers! My mind scrambled for another half-truth to cover the half-truth. "Hmm...that was probably me. I heard shots, but I didn't see who did it." Ouch. Seraph or not, the lie stung. Enemies aside, messengers and spies spoke the truth to those they served. Matt eyed me curiously, an unreadable expression, and my skin crawled as I remembered the Elohite choir's attunement. I lurched on the offensive before he could ask anymore questions. "I did check out the body, though, stole her wallet and hid it in a tree so we can take a look later. Oh, and she had a police badge, number 7618."
The police info had the desired effect, and they began to discuss that and other things, my presence mostly forgotten. Except by Matt, who continued to look at me with that strange look. He looked...enlightened. Or maybe disappointed. Arashiel showed up as Dog, using Ethereal Motion to fly around the room with a cape on his shoulders, and Matt left abruptly. Damn...damn his prying! Yes, angels lie to each other sometimes. Get over it! I felt thoroughly disgusted...with him, with me, with Dinhabah, with this whole cursed mess.
Jael and Arashiel decided they wanted to have a look at the crime scene, so I hid my thoughts and went along. Nothing knew came of it, although I think they did learn the woman's name. I showed them where the wallet was for future reference, since the creek path was far too busy to retrieve it just now. Then they suggested talking to Rook about the matter, so I trailed along, keeping to myself.
Rook already had company when we arrived, an angel named Alaric in his inner office. Although I did not recognize his tall blond vessel, I know the name quite well. Alaric is a Mercurian Vassal of War who taught strategy in the Groves while I was there. He recognized me, too, although we hardly knew each other well enough to be overly friendly.
Conversation died somewhat when we arrived, signs of discussing things not meant for other ears, but eventually we learned Alaric had been assigned to Boulder temporarily to "help" Rook. I don't know how many other people this struck as odd, since Alaric basically outranked Rook and would hardly be expected to take orders from him. Something else, then. I suspected War had reason to believe we would soon need his services as a strategian, which I took to mean demonic hordes headed our way. Still, I didn't trust his silence, and spent the next little while watching and thinking during idle conversations. Eventually Rook had to return to teach class (and dismissed himself rather coolly, I might add) and there was just the four of us.
Arashiel is the one who brought up her frustration with our inability to move proactively. Of course, we can't move proactively because we can't seem to pin down who wants the Tapestry and where they are coming from, which reminds me...I wonder what ever happened to Victoria Strassen and her silver TIC-TOC car, the one we traced back to a place called Rocky Flats? Surely that warrants some investigation...only we can't investigate because we're too busy defending the blessed Tapestry from our shadowy attackers. Frustrating!
Alaric at one point suggested using the Tapestry as bait, drawing them out and ambushing them. Of course, we'd thought of that before, discarded the idea as being too risky for Jael and Arashiel, not to mention too obvious to pull off successfully. Besides, we would gain nothing, as they would be quickly replaced by more demons. So long as we possess the Tapestry, there will always be someone trying to go through us to get it. I don't know about anyone else, but my mission requires a more permanent method of protecting "those who would not chose" from "the seller of souls" than an eternity of guard duty. If that's what Gabriel wanted, she would have sent a Cherub. Since she sent an Ofanite instead, I could only assume that a little change was good.
So we could turn it over to the heavenly authorities instead, let them debate over it, study it, and ultimately store it away where demonic--and angelic--hands can never disturb it. The thought of locking it away for a veritable eternity is creepy, and no one seems to think their superiors seek that as a final solution. We could destroy it, rather than allow it to fall into demonic hands. But the Cherubim in particular have a problem with that, being both attuned to the artifact and servitors of the Archangel who made it.
Or we could unravel it. In spite of my previous arguments otherwise, there seems to be no other option. Consider the situation. We cannot defend it forever. The creatures within the Tapestry are certainly capable of some degree of self-defense, and could certainly aid us in protecting them during a fight. If we remove the object of the demon's interest, they will certainly have a much harder time acquiring the souls they seek and selling them into servitude, either to Heaven of Hell. And I'm not convinced that Heaven isn't just as dangerous to these ethereal souls Gabriel sent me here to protect as Hell. The Purity Crusade may be officially over, but its legacy is one of crazed Outcasts seeking those who escaped them, and an angelic populace bearing a general attitude of malaise--if not downright intolerance--toward any survivors of the purge. I recently learned that there are still standing orders for all angels to kill any ethereals found on Earth; I have to wonder what the punishment might be for actually releasing them there. Nevertheless, there are those who might like to tuck away the Tapestry and forget its contents, and to me that's the same as selling those souls. We trade them to the powers-that-be in exchange for our continued lives of relative safety, unmolested by those powers.
No. Unraveling is our only reasonable course of action.
But the conversation had drifted on without me, and upon Matt's return from Rook's class, he suggested that we needed to learn the identity of the mole in our midst. I inwardly cringed a little as I thought of Dinhabah, expected him to return his attentions to me, but instead he suggested laying a trap for Adrienne, calling her and giving her false information while one of us (me) spied on her to see if she passed the information along. My heart wasn't in it but I went along with the plan, for fear of giving more away if I did otherwise.
Only when I flew up to Adrienne's window (with Matt and Alaric waiting in a car nearby to call), I saw Dinhabah rifling through her things carefully and thoroughly. I tapped on the window, and for the second time in mere hours he looked distinctly unhappy to see me.
He opened the window. "Are you following me again?"
Where earlier I might have felt guilty, now I merely bristled in irritation at another attempt to mess with my head. "No, I'm looking for Adrienne. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for Adrienne," he intoned. "She's gone."
"Gone? You mean...gone?" I looked around the apartment. It looked wholly lived in, clothes on the floor, dishes in the sink.
"Her car is gone." He spoke with a note of finality that brooked no question, and considering his alternate sources of information, I had no reason to doubt him. But that still left unanswered questions.
"What are you looking for?"
"Evidence. Adrienne is contracted to the Game."
Is. Not was.
Matt.
I flew back to the car, where he and Alaric waited. "We've got a problem. Looks like Adrienne has taken flight." I didn't have to say more; Matt seemed unusually grim as we returned to the Tether so he could check his celestial form for the unmistakable bonds of a Lilim's favors. Two of them. I felt bad for him. He really wanted to help the demon, tried to convince her to redeem, only to find himself used. He remained quiet while we returned to the Board.
Rook was still teaching class at that time in the afternoon, but Arashiel and Jael had apparently put their heads together and decided we should go back to Yellowstone to ask more questions of the Roc. I rode back with them to the Painted Pot to get their van ready for a trip, and eventually one of us noticed Irad sitting on the bench across the street. I watched warily from the rooftops while Arashiel went over to speak to him, then invited him to come along and talk to the Roc. This seemed a little rash to me, considering he was a powerful word-bound demon. But just as Matt had his reasons to trust Adrienne, for better or worse, so too Arashiel now seemed to think Irad could be redeemed, and had to act on that. I couldn't blame her. I just wish I wasn't the one left to keep an eye on him.
I eyed him from above, waiting for some twitch to betray his intent. In time, he must have tired of the scrutiny. "Care to join me?" He patted the bench seat next to him.
I didn't like the idea, but I pictured in my mind how craven I would seem should I refuse. So, wholly out of foolish pride and without consideration for what such a powerful demon could do to me should he get me in his grasp, I flew a wide circle and perched on the furthest most point of the bench. I said I was arrogant, not stupid.
Time passed awkwardly in silence, until I resolved that he did not intend to eat me for lunch and I would be an idiot to pass up this chance to dig up a little information. So I asked, "Why did you allow us to escape from Beleth's tower?"
"Allow?" He sounded a little confused, as if it had never occurred to him that his distraction of the guard was completely unintentional. Years of training, I guess, constantly lying to yourself and your Superiors about your motivations. Then his mind shifted gears. "I didn't want to see Jael as a Djinn. Besides, I know what happens to angels discovered in Hell." He seemed unusually vulnerable as he spoke, as if the words tumbled straight from his heart without filter. Chalk it up to another neat Habbalite trick.
"Hmmm.... Do you really think you're still an angel, working for God?"
He looked at me as if I'd asked the strangest question on Earth. "No. I know what I am. I know what I was."
Which, oddly enough, puts me a little more at ease. You can't trust someone who doesn't know who he is, tries to be someone he's not; you just can't predict how someone like that will behave. Take Matt, for example. All love and light and impartiality...until someone tweaks him, then it's Piranha Time. Okay, that's a little extreme...but I swear there's something wrong with that Elohite. More than what's usually wrong with Elohim. Anyway, at least Irad knows he works for Hell, and I don't have to be the one to try and break the bad news.
"Why did you enter Beleth's tower?" His turn to ask.
"We were trying to rescue Rook--"
"You had to know it was dangerous, even foolhardy. Why did you do it?"
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he really didn't understand.... "I had to. I would have even chosen to Fall if it meant saving a friend." I spoke without thought, without intent. Okay, now I realize how dangerous those words sound should they fall upon Dominican ears. But strangely enough, I do consider Rook a friend, or at least someone I respect and feel a duty to aid and protect. My desire to help Rook, to save him from that doom reserved for angels in Hell of which Irad spoke, to save the Malakite from mutilation at Fate's hands, to spare him the ending that should have been mine had I been there on watch that night instead of him...I walked straight into Hell, with no qualms, no fears save that we should fail to free him. I didn't know how else to say that, especially to someone who couldn't possibly know the depths one would reach to help another. I struggled with the silence, until its weight smothered any further discussion.
"I opened the door to his cell."
It took me a moment to process that, and my first reaction was one of doubt. He could say many things in an effort to earn my trust. But he was there in Beleth's Tower, and he did distract the guard. I began to wonder if he didn't take an even greater part in helping Rook. It seems rather ironic, in a way, that he would lay so much on the line for an angel who only very recently would not have hesitated to try and vanquish him.
We didn't talk much after that. I asked if he could teach me more about the song of Ice, but he didn't know it. I don't remember much else about it, except him saying that he really didn't want to see Jael Fall. He seemed awfully sincere. I think I almost believe him.
Previous . . Home . . Vox Secunda . . Next