On Deaths Wings

A Dark Eden Press Publication

www.darkedenpress.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. On Death’s Wings Copyright© 2007 Auburnimp Edited by Helen Ravell Cover art by Jet Mykles Electronic book Publication: August 2007 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Dark Eden Press, Inc.® 8824 Jeanes Lane, Alvarado, TX 76009 This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

On Death’s Wings Fallen Angels Book One Auburnimp

New York City, 1976

The darkness was a tangible thing, like a veil of soft cloth spread across the sky. No stars showed here in the big city, the light pollution too strong for them to be visible. Not that he cared. Nothing touched him anymore, nothing beautiful at least. He walked on, unbuttoned black leather coat flapping round his legs as he moved through the less salubrious areas of New York City. He passed cheaply built apartment blocks, erected to replace the old tenement slums, but still full of the deprived, depressed and often downright dangerous people who frequented this part of the city. Not that any of them were a danger to him. A scuffle and muted cry of pain attracted his attention and he turned his steps to follow the sounds to their source, an alley at right angles to the street he was on. A pimp, beating one of his stable of prostitutes, nothing more, and yet.… This was no mere beating. This was the probability of death which had drawn him into this filthy, narrow alley in the first place. The smell of rotting garbage from the overfull dumpster assaulted his nose and left his eyes watering. The pimp glanced up at his approach, ugly face twisted even more in rage. “Whaddya want?” He ignored the question as he glanced down at the pitiful scrap of humanity on the ground. A boy, he realized no more than eighteen or nineteen, pretty under the bruises that covered his face, with dark auburn hair and wide, frightened green eyes. Not one he was ready to take into death yet. The pimp, however, was another matter. “I asked you...” “I heard. I want the boy.” The pimp let go of the frightened youth, and stepped towards him. “He’s not for sale.” He smiled then, and the pimp recoiled. “Did I say I wanted to buy him?” “Who the fuck are you?” “Someone who doesn’t appreciate others doing his job for him. It’s not time for the boy to die.” The pimp sneered. “Says who?”

“Says the Grim Reaper.” He made a slight clutching gesture with his right hand as he spoke. The pimp started laughing, but the sound turned into a choking series of gasps. His hands went to his throat, scrabbling at it as he tried to breathe. His face turned first red then purple and finally blue as the air was prevented from reaching his lungs. Finally he collapsed, unmoving. The boy stared up, eyes even wider, their leafy depths full of horrified fear. He smiled down at him. “Stop the drugs, stay away from bastards like him and go home,” he said. “It’s not that easy,” the boy said. He shook his head in mocking amusement at his own stupidity. He could read the boy well enough, knew there was no home worth living in for him to go to, no way to keep him off the streets that were his only real home. And he knew what he was going to do. “You’d better come with me then.” The boy climbed painfully to his feet, revealing a tall, but thin body encased in dirty jeans, and a muscle-back that had once been blue but had now faded to an indeterminate grey and was as dirty as the jeans. “You wanna be my new pimp, man, is that it?” “No.” “Then it’s five bucks an hour.” He spun round to stare haughtily at the boy. “I don’t want to be your john either. If you want to get off the drugs and these streets you’ll follow me. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, though. I don’t give a fuck either way. It’s up to you what you do, but I think you already know that if you stay you won‘t live too long.” Then he turned his back on the boy and strolled down the alley towards the slightly brighter street. It didn’t surprise him in the least when the boy followed him at a discreet distance. He led the way to the nearest subway station, the boy still following, and bought two tickets for 72nd Street before turning to gaze dispassionately at his companion. “If you board this train with me, you’ve put your life into my hands to do with as I wish. Do

you understand that?” The boy swallowed audibly but nodded his eyes still wide with terror. “Then come.” He turned towards the steps down to the platform before stopping as he thought of something. The boy almost bumped into him, and stood gazing at him in trepidation. “Do you have a name?” The boy took a deep breath before saying, “Daniel O‘Conner.” He nodded, satisfied and continued on his way to the platform, Daniel like a ghost at his back. They were on the train before the boy spoke again. “What’s your name?” “Samael.” *** They got off the train and walked a block alongside the park, Daniel still staying a pace or two behind, before Samael entered a tall building that screamed of serious money. The bulky uniformed man seated at the reception desk smiled at Samael before noticing Daniel. “What the hell are you doing in here? Out now!” “It’s okay, Jackson, he’s with me,” Samael said in his quiet way. “Sir? None of my business, of course, but he’s a street kid, probably a druggie.” “You’re right, Jackson. On all counts.” Jackson grimaced slightly at Samael’s tone, but had the sense to say no more. Daniel flushed in shame. The concierge was right, and he had no place here. “Maybe I’d better go,” he ventured to say. Samael turned to stare at him, his gaze cool, assessing and seemingly indifferent. “You boarded the train, Daniel. You remember what that means.” He stared into those expressionless eyes, unable to look away, before nodding. He had put his life in this stranger’s hands by boarding that train. Now he would have to live with the consequences, whatever they might be. Samael nodded and headed for the elevator. Daniel followed obediently wondering if he would have been safer on the streets. The elevator was a private one that served only one floor, right at the top of the building. As it rose he surreptitiously studied Samael. He looked to be in his early

twenties and was tall, slender without skinniness, incredibly handsome with his long blue-black hair and wide black eyes. He made Daniel shiver as adrenaline hit his blood stream, and he wondered why the hell he’d boarded that subway train. There was a polite ting from the elevator as it came to a stop and the doors slid open. Samael stepped out and Daniel followed, head lowered to take in the tiled floor of the entrance lobby. “You’ll need a key for the elevator and another for the door.” He looked up at that to find Samael staring at him, something suspiciously like a smile playing round his mouth. “No, you’re not a prisoner.” “Then why…?” “Why are you here? I’m not entirely sure myself. Good deeds aren’t usually my strong suit. Perhaps you remind me of someone, or perhaps I‘m trying to be something I‘m not.” There was pain in Samael’s voice, deep pain and Daniel swallowed hard on the lump in his throat that it evoked. Pain, yeah, that he understood. “Um…would it be okay for me to take a bath or shower?” Samael was staring at him again, and he shifted uncomfortably under that steady regard. “I think that would be an excellent idea,” his benefactor said, “and perhaps some halfway decent clothes, although they’ll have to wait until morning.” He nodded, not wanting to interrupt and put an end to the ebb and flow of that low, musical voice. There was no accent to Samael’s English; he could be from almost anywhere. It was impossible to tell beyond the fact that he certainly wasn’t from New York City. “I think I have some clean pajamas somewhere that you can borrow for tonight.” He turned and headed further into the apartment. “Come along, Daniel.” He followed meekly and found himself in a sitting room that made him gasp aloud at the sheer size of it. His feet sank into thick, light beige carpet as a mixture of scents from the black leather of the upholstery and a bowl of blood red roses hit his nose. Samael disappeared through a door to the left while Daniel stared at his surroundings in awe. The huge plate glass windows that appeared to take up a whole wall drew him and he wandered over to gaze out at a small roof garden and the darkened

park beyond. A low chuckle made him look up quickly and flush in embarrassment. Samael was standing by the same door, some black silk pajamas clasped in one hand. “You’re not used to such opulence are you, boy? Don’t worry. It will very soon begin to mean nothing to you as you start to crave your poison.” He stared. Until that moment he’d forgotten the heroin that his body and mind was addicted to. Samael’s words had made him remember. Had made him want the stuff. “Please…I need…” “No. You just think you need.” Samael spoke firmly and there was no sympathy in those black as sin eyes. “Here.” He held out the pajamas. Daniel approached him warily, afraid to get too close to his… benefactor? Somehow he was beginning to wonder about that. Samael smiled as if he could read his thoughts. “There’s a bathroom over there.” Samael indicated a door on the other side of the room. “The room next to it is yours while you’re here.” “Thank you.” It was all he thought he could manage with that cold gaze fixed on him as if it could devour his very soul. That and the craving for heroin steadily growing in his gut. “Um…can I go now?” “Of course. If you should need food or drink the kitchen is the other door off the lobby.” That half-smile was playing round Samael’s lips again as he spoke. “Probably better for you than all that other muck.” When had he last eaten a proper meal? It had to be a couple of days since he’d had anything at all. The drug suppressed his appetite most of the time. “Thank you,” he said and almost fled into the bathroom. *** Samael waited only until his charge had settled before going out again. He rarely felt the need to sleep, and almost never the desire, tired of the nightmares it always brought with it. And the boy reminded him so much of his lost love that he wanted to bathe himself in death as a way to forget. A vague fluttering caught his senses and he glanced up. There, high above the

city was an angel although he couldn’t tell which one from here. A smile came. If the other was here on a mission of mercy, he would take great pleasure in thwarting his or her desires. It was just the sort of game he needed. He unfurled his six black-feathered wings and took to the dark sky to take a closer look at this possible adversary. Only the last remaining legend could stand against him. One of the original three, two of whom had chosen to fall, rather than live as slaves to a creator they never saw. Blood-red hair and wings like a feathered rainbow. Samael snarled and dove before the other saw him. Damnation! Why did it have to be Raphael? The one archangel he would never again face, not through fear, but because he still loved him. He landed on a roof and watched as Raphael flew down to a particular house in Brooklyn. A slender young mortal opened the door and smiled at his visitor. Then the two were in each others arms and kissing, before they disappeared into the house. Samael’s hands clenched into fists as the pain ate at him; pain that only millions of years of love, followed by ten thousand years of separation, could cause. The mortal didn’t bother him. He’d watched Raphael from afar for long enough to know that he sought his forgetfulness in the bodies of pretty mortals. “Whore,” he muttered and turned away to find another figure on the roof gazing at him from amused forest green eyes. “What the fuck do you want, Beliel?” “I just had the feeling that you might be up for some real mischief tonight, and I’m bored.” “Your emotions don’t concern me.” “No, but the Son of the Morning, hearing about your good deed towards the pretty mortal in your apartment might.” Beliel was openly grinning at him as he spoke. He glared at the other fallen one. “Don’t try to blackmail me if you know what’s good for you.” “Then let’s go and have some fun! Hell knows you’re gloomy enough tonight!” Resisting the urge to swat the demon like the bug he was, Samael contented himself with glowering at him. “I warn you now, I’m in the mood to kill and keep on killing.” “Perfect! Shall we get started then?” Beliel was completely unrepentant.

He shook his head and sighed. “Okay, I know I’m going to regret this, but what do you have in mind?” Beliel skittered about the roof in excitement, his pale green hair flowing and his wings, also the green of all growing things fluttered. Everything about him was shades of that color, even his skin. “Oh, now you’re talking! I think a little mayhem throughout the city should suit.” He shot Beliel a look of deep suspicion before thinking more carefully about his words. Then he smiled as an idea occurred. Opening his senses, he took command of the hurricane approaching the eastern seaboard and changed its direction whilst both strengthening it and speeding it up. Seeing Raphael had hurt him badly, so he would use his beloved’s element to wreak havoc on the city and kill several of its inhabitants. “You might want to get off this roof,” he warned Beliel. His companion’s green eyes widened. “Oh! What have you done?” “Look at the sky.” Beliel looked up where the swirling cloud formation of an approaching hurricane had appeared. He cackled in delight and resumed his skittering little dance. “Oh yes! Perfect! Samael, I love your work!” “Well sit back and admire if it suits you. I’m going home.” “Are you going to fuck the pretty mortal?” He turned narrowed eyes on Beliel who had the intelligence to back off a few paces. “Mind your own damned business! If you want to ride this storm on a mortal’s carcass, find your own plaything!” Beliel attempted to look contrite and failed miserably, managing only disappointment. “Just because I like to watch,” he muttered. “And with the little one on a drug come down he’ll be in even more pain.” He was wheedling now. “Have your fun watching the mortals suffer through this storm. I promise you there will be anguish enough to sate even your appetites.” Beliel’s time away from Heaven and the company of the earth angel, Uriel, had made him as perverse and twisted as an old tree root. Having had more than enough of the little green demon, he spread his wings and

headed for his apartment. He stopped in the main foyer only long enough to warn Jackson to batten down the hatches, before stepping into the elevator. Once in the sitting room he flicked a switch that closed storm shutters on all the windows, before staring at the door to Daniel’s bedroom. A strangled moan from behind the door decided him, and he strode towards it as the wind began to howl around the building. *** Daniel clambered out of the tub, feeling better for having let his bruised body soak for a while. He dried himself off and put on the borrowed pajamas which had to be the most expensive items of clothing he had ever worn in his life. He wandered into the sitting room but there was no sign of Samael. Not at all willing to go looking in what was obviously the other man’s bedroom he headed for the kitchen instead. State of the art stainless steel fittings and every conceivable gadget met his eyes. Not sure where to start, he glanced around and spotted a bread basket full of bagels. He sliced one, dropped it in the toaster and found cream cheese and an apple in the fridge. That and a glass of water was all he felt he could manage for now. The toaster popped up and he spread cheese and arranged apple slices on his bagel before perching himself on one of the high stools at what was obviously a breakfast bar. He managed to eat half the bagel before throwing the rest in the waste disposal and washing his plate and the knife he’d used for the apple. Then, with still no sign of Samael he went back into the sitting room and opened the door to what Samael had designated as his bedroom. It was as opulent and expensive-looking as the rest of the apartment with a queen sized bed and subdued lighting. The window gave a sideways view onto the park and the whole was done in shades of turquoise, from pale aqua to deepest viridian. It was a beautiful room but he wasn’t in the mood to admire as his stomach clenched in the first pains of withdrawal. Samael had been right. All the opulence and beauty in the world meant nothing while he was in this much pain. He huddled on the bed in a fetal position and groaned softly. The pain eased up and he got under the covers, surprised at how exhausted he

was. He didn’t know how much later he woke to another stomach twisting cramp, but the room was pitch black and the wind was howling outside. He moaned with it, clutching at his middle. Light flooded the room from the doorway, and a tall figure was outlined against it for a moment before the door was shut again, and the figure was moving forward towards the bed. “Samael? Is that you?” A sharp humorless laugh. “Who else were you expecting, boy?” He sat up quickly and backed up until his spine hit the headboard. “What do you want?” “The same as you. Comfort and forgetfulness.” “I see.” So this was when he started paying for Samael’s hospitality with his body. His street persona made him say. “So you just wanted a freebie after all.” His head was rocked to one side as Samael backhanded him. “Don’t be crude, Daniel. Not if you know what is good for you.” He raised a hand to his stinging cheek and felt blood from a newly split lip. He closed his eyes, wanting to cry, but he’d long since forgotten how. “You’re just like Angelo!” he cried out, but his voice sounded small, lost in the wail of the wind outside the shuttered window. Another short laugh came from Samael, together with the sound of clothing falling to the floor. The bed dipped under Samael’s weight and Daniel scrambled to get out on the other side. A strong hand clutched his wrist and pulled him back. Samael’s free arm caught him round the waist and pulled him close. He was becoming really frightened by now; the visions of how Angelo had died were playing through his head like a stuck record. “Let go of me!” But instead of letting go, Samael pulled him even closer and grabbed his hair to pull his head back. Then he was being kissed, Samael’s tongue demanding entry. His breath came in short gasps and he parted his lips in surprise. Nobody had ever kissed him. Not until this moment.

He groaned again and clutched at Samael as if he were a life raft in a storm-tossed sea. The black silk pajamas were torn from his body as easily as if they’d been made of tissue paper, and Samael’s hands wandered over his naked back, stroking and caressing. Outside the wind shrieked. Samael pulled away from his mouth and forced him back until he was supine again. Another gut wrenching pain hit him and he tried to curl round it, but Samael was holding him down with the weight of his body. One more soul searing kiss was placed upon his lips, and Daniel’s moans changed in intensity as his body responded. A hand found his half arousal, and began to stroke until he was fully erect and wanting. Samael pulled away again, although the hand on his erection remained there. There was the sound of a drawer being opened and then shut again and something being unwrapped. He bucked as a finger coated with something cold and damp teased at his anus before pushing in with surprising gentleness. “Aren’t you afraid of catching something?” he asked bitterly. Another laugh came from Samael, gentler this time. “No. And if it interests you, you’ve been lucky. You’re clean.” Now how the hell would he know that? “Really? I was on the streets to support a drug habit and I wasn’t choosy about my clients or bothered about protection.” Another finger joined its fellow, and both stroked him inside as the other hand stroked him outside. “I know. Like I said, you’ve been lucky.” “How the fuck do you know?” “Let’s just say I learned a few tricks from someone I used to know. Now shut up.” Daniel was about to make some scathing retort when those clever fingers found his prostate and he cried out in pleasure instead. Samael’s chuckle sounded once again. It was soft and sexy to his ears this time.

“Like that do you?” “Oh God, yes!” Both hands were immediately withdrawn. “Don’t ever mention that name again!” He was confused, full of lust and pain mingled together and wondered what he’d done to so upset Samael. “What name?” “God. If he exists at all, he doesn’t give a shit about you or me!” “You’re weird.” “Yes. Very weird, much weirder than you could ever imagine.” He wanted to please Samael, wanted those hands back. “I’m sorry. I’ll never say it again.” But Samael didn’t seem inclined to give him anymore pleasure. Instead he leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He screamed out in pain, his voice matching the scream of the wind. There was more pain as Samael gave his other nipple the same treatment and he felt tears in his eyes. “Please, please don’t.” Samael took hold of his legs and folded them up until he was jackknifed with his ass exposed to whatever the other man wanted. He cried out again as he was penetrated until he realized that the same cold, damp stuff was coating Samael’s cock, and that it didn’t actually hurt, just filled him to overflowing. Samael pressed down on him, one hand tangling in his hair to hold his head still while his mouth was plundered. There was no gentleness now. He could hardly breathe as those lips clamped down on his and Samael’s tongue fucked his mouth as surely as he fucked his body. A cramp hit his stomach at the same time, and he groaned in agony both mental and physical. Samael pulled back from the kiss and lifted them both until Daniel was impaled on his lap, one leg either side of his waist. He supported them both easily with one arm and let his free hand rest on his cramping belly. The cramp eased almost immediately and he clung to Samael in wordless thanks. “Ah, so you’re beginning to understand. I can ease things for you, or I can make them unbearable. The choice is yours.”

“Please, I’ll do or say anything you want, but please don’t hurt me anymore.” He felt ashamed of the tears streaming down his face and the evident pain in his voice when he’d spoken, but Samael lifted his chin to pin him with those bottomless eyes. “I thought I wanted your pain to counteract my own, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to work. Even though you beg and moan so prettily.” Samael’s free hand wiped at the tears on his cheeks. “And I was somewhat unfair as you didn’t know the rules.” The dark eyes seemed to go distant as if Samael were listening to something. Whatever it was he seemed to draw strength from it. As for himself, all he could hear was the screeching, wailing wind. He ventured a remark. “That’s some storm.” “It has served its purpose and will calm soon enough.” Samael pulled him close again and started to move inside him the motion more gentle this time. He moaned as his prostate was stroked with unerring accuracy and wound his arms round Samael’s neck wanting more. “So good,” he whispered in amazement. “Nobody ever cared if I enjoyed it or not before. Nobody ever kissed me.” The room was lit by a sudden flash of lightning, followed by thunder that sounded as if someone had ripped the sky asunder like a piece of cloth. Samael thrust harder holding him so tightly it was almost painful. There were so many questions about Samael in his mind, but all he could do was cling to the other man and lose himself in the pleasure he was experiencing at his hands. So much pleasure. None of his johns had ever kept it up for this long. None of them had ever cared about his pleasure. He wasn’t sure if Samael did either until a hand settled around his cock and started stroking with just the right amount of pressure. It was all too much, and he came in an explosion of sensation that made him cry out at its intensity. Oh God, oh God, oh God! But he didn’t dare scream that out loud. Instead he was whimpering out Samael’s name over and over again. Samael gave one final thrust and he felt himself filled with warmth. He shuddered against Samael’s chest as the world slowly righted itself and the wind dropped. Feeling Samael’s cock softening inside him, he made as if to climb off his lap. In his experience once a partner had finished he didn’t want Daniel near him. But Samael

held him still and kissed him. It was unlike the other brutal kisses that Samael had forced upon him. It was almost tender, and it made him want to cry again. He held Samael again, confused but glad he still wanted him near. It made him feel less like a whore, and more like a lover. Samael stopped kissing him and pulled his head back to smile at him. It was totally unlike the other cold smiles he’d seen on that beautiful face. It was warm and gentle and met Samael’s eyes. “Thank you, Daniel.” “I should thank you. Nobody’s ever made me feel that way before.” “Forget all that. That part of your life is over.” Samael was quiet for a moment as if choosing his next words. “I’m not always the most pleasant of company. I can be moody, demanding, and unreasonable, and you don’t want to see me lose my temper, but I would like you to stay here with me. If you feel you cannot do that, then I can make other arrangements, find you a decent apartment and a job that doesn’t have you selling your body for drugs. The choice is yours, but choose wisely because if you decide to stay you will become mine in every sense of the word.” He opened his mouth to give his answer when a finger was pressed across it to silence him. “No, Daniel, don’t give me your answer now. Think about it carefully and remember all that I’ve told you, and the pain I gave you as well as the pleasure. Give me your answer in a week.” Samael lifted him off his lap and moved from under him. “Get some sleep now, Daniel.” He wanted to argue that he was fine and did not need to sleep, but his eyes closed of their own volition and he fell asleep soothed by the dying wind. *** Samael watched as Daniel fell asleep, his mind full of conflicting emotions. He had wanted to hurt the boy, wanted to become like Beliel and revel in the mortal’s pain as a sop to his own, but somehow he hadn’t been able to do that. Daniel had suffered almost as much as he in his short span of years, and he found he couldn’t add to that grief. And the boy had been surprisingly satisfying. When the storm deaths had fed him he’d been able to calm his temper and be gentler with the mortal in his arms. And then he’d no longer wanted his lover’s pain, the

anguish of people dying in the city being enough to appease him. Add to that Raphael’s anger at him, and the lightning bolt the air angel had thrown with unerring accuracy, and he’d actually felt good enough to both climax himself and let the boy climax with him. What confused him now was his asking the boy to stay. He’d never wanted to keep a mortal around before, merely using them to overcome his inner agonies. One or two nights were usually more than enough, especially if the fool mortal fell for him. Now it looked like the boot was on the other foot, and he was falling for Daniel. And that would be ridiculous. His love, twisted and unwanted thing that it was, was all for Raphael, who hadn’t even wanted him in the end. Yet he’d asked the boy to stay, would be disappointed if he chose to leave. Hell, he’d rescued him in the first place. Stupid! Stupid! The boy would grow old, and he’d not want him in a few years. What the Hell had he been thinking? Lucifer always said he was impetuous, and he realized that on this occasion his brother was right. He’d been beyond impetuous to take Daniel in like some stray cat, even more so to find him attractive and want to ease his hurts. Stupid! He dressed quickly, wanting to be out of Daniel’s room, away from the temptation of his warm and willing body, away from the sweet scent of him, away from his own demons, his own feelings of something other than grief and hatred. Even so, he gently brushed sweat damp auburn locks from the boy’s face before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. *** “What the fuck you mean, Angelo’s dead?” Gino Scarlatti was not a happy man. He would be even less happy when he had to tell the boss the news. He leaned across his desk, pudgy, ring-covered hands flat on its polished surface and glared at Murphy. The tall Irishman visibly swallowed making him feel a little better. “He was found by some kids dis morning in an alley. Looks like a heart attack.” “A heart attack? He was only twenty-six or seven! How could he have a fucking heart attack?”

“I dunno, Gino. But dat’s what the paramedics said it was.” Murphy was still nervous and with good reason. He’d been known to kill the bearers of bad news, especially if that news could undermine his own position in the family. Hired thugs were expendable. He calmed down with an effort. “Okay, okay. Not your fault, Murphy. Just make sure all his whores and drug pushers are still doing their jobs.” Murphy visibly swallowed. “Um, Gino…” His eyes narrowed and he pulled his pistol from its shoulder holster. “What’s the problem, Murphy?” “One of the bitches didn’t come back to the check-in this morning. He was a druggie, but so far nobody’s found his body.” “Nobody leaves our employ unless it’s in a box! Do you understand me, Murphy?” Murphy swallowed again. “Of course I do, Gino. If he’s out there, dead or alive, we’ll find him.” “Just make sure you do, or you’ll be paying for him personally. Now get the fuck outta here!” Murphy didn’t need telling twice and almost ran from his office. Scarlatti put his pistol back in its holster and rubbed his chin as he thought things through. Chances were that the whore had made a run for it just because Angelo wasn’t there to keep him in line. And as he was an addict, he’d soon come crawling back for his fix. So apart from the dishonor it brought upon the family, he doubted any real harm had been done. But once he got hold of the bitch… He picked up the phone and dialed Murphy’s pager. The phone rang almost immediately he had replaced the receiver. “Murphy, if that bitch is alive he stays that way, and you bring him to me, understood?” “Of course, Gino. Anything else?” “No. Just find that whore.” He replaced the phone and sat back in his chair. The boss had to know about Angelo, of course, but the whore was his problem to deal with, and he would in his own special way. The thought made him smile. ***

When Daniel awoke, it was to the light of day streaming through his window and the sound of sirens in the streets below. He sat up and spotted a pile of bags with the Bloomingdale logo on them sitting on one of the chairs. Samael had bought clothes for him? He climbed out of bed and looked out of the window to see if he could see what the sirens were about. He gasped at the sight spread out before him. The city was a mess, with debris everywhere. Last night’s storm must have been a real humdinger. He shook his head and went over to inspect the contents of the bags. There were jeans, tee shirts, muscle-backs and vests in his favorite blues and dark greens, and a trench coat in warm beige of precisely the right shade to set off his auburn hair. He wondered how Samael had known the sort of clothes he liked. Picking a pair of jeans and tee shirt at random, he headed towards the bathroom for a shower. Once showered and dressed he wandered aimlessly into the sitting room, wondering where Samael was. An envelope on the coffee table caught his eye and he picked it up, finding it was addressed to him. The way his name was written was beautiful, in an elegant copperplate that harked to a bygone age. He opened the envelope and found a note inside. “I hope you like the clothes. The keys are on the breakfast bar in the kitchen so you can come and go as you please. Feel free to use the TV or stereo or, if you prefer computers there is one in the study. I should be home at about 8pm but don’t bother making dinner. We’ll eat out. Samael” He glanced at the clock on the stereo system and found it was already close to five. Had he really slept all day? A grumble from his stomach told him he was hungry, so he went into the kitchen to scavenge. The keys were precisely where Samael had said they would be, but he wasn’t interested in leaving the apartment until they went out to eat. He made himself another cream cheese and apple bagel, and this time ate all of it with real enjoyment. Once the plate was cleaned, he went in search of the study. He was guessing it was the door beyond Samael’s bedroom but he stopped outside that door first, his curiosity getting the better of him. Perhaps Samael’s private space would tell him more

about the man. He opened the door and peeped in. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but he was disappointed. Although as nicely decorated as the rest of the apartment in a rather somber dark red, it was just a bedroom. There were no photographs, nothing to say who Samael was. He sighed and closed the door before moving towards the study. It was the last room in the apartment, but he guessed it would be as beautiful yet impersonal as the rest of the place. He opened the door to find a mahogany desk that looked to be medieval. A comfortable looking black leather office chair beckoned to him and he sat down in front of a state of the art computer system. Around him there were shelves upon shelves of books, some appearing to be real antiques, which were giving off a delightful aroma of paper and leather binding. The contents of this room were the closest he’d come to a clue about Samael’s personality, so he stood up and took a look at the books. They were far ranging and eclectic. Titles as diverse as Demonology, Volcanoes, and a whole set of Spillane were there together with art books of everything from Goya and Breughel to more modern artists such as Hockney and Warhol. The collection was so diverse that it still told him nothing about its owner. He sat down again at the computer and booted it up, intending to find a game site with which to while away a couple of hours. Instead of typing games in the search engine, he found himself typing Samael. There was a heavy metal rock band using the name, but all the other references were to a demon. He frowned. No, that was ridiculous. His Samael was too damned beautiful to be a demon. Wait a minute. His Samael? The man had said it himself. He belonged to Samael not the other way round. All interest in games was gone and instead, he clicked on a site belonging to the Jewish Encyclopedia. That had Samael as everything from the Angel of Death to the serpent from the Garden of Eden. He frowned suddenly as memories from the previous night assailed him. “Says who?” “Says the Grim Reaper.”

And then Angelo gasping for breath and dying. “Never mention that name again.” No. It was preposterous. There were no such things as demons. It even said here that the name could be derived from some Syrian god. And wings? Samael didn’t have wings! He tried another site and found Samael referred to as accuser, seducer and destroyer. His eyes widened. Hadn’t he seen all that? Samael had accused and destroyed Angelo and then seduced him. He started to shake and shut the computer down. It had to be the after effects of the drugs playing tricks on his mind. He remembered the books on Demonology on Samael’s shelves, and picked one out at random. Flipping it open he was disgusted to find it was written in Latin. He put it back and tried another. This one was in English and gave a list of the ‘Demon Princes’ and right there alongside Lucifer was Samael. A note in the margin in Samael’s neat writing caught his attention, but it was written in something really odd like Hebrew or something and he couldn’t understand it at all. Giving up, he sighed and replaced the book on the shelf just in time to hear the door to the apartment open. He stepped out of the study and caught his breath at the sight that greeted him. Samael was stunning in a long wine red coat made of fine velvet, and black fetish boots with silver chains and buckles all over them. He glanced over and smiled. “You’re still here then? I was half expecting you to run away.” “And go where? You said I had a week to make a decision. Can’t I stay here for that week?” Oh God, please let me stay. “I’m not chasing you out, Daniel. Of course you can stay if that’s what you want.” Was he imagining things or did Samael seem to know what he’d been looking at while he was out? He had to know but how to approach the subject? “I was thinking. . .your name. . . it’s very unusual.” “Ah.” A single word said so softly he almost had to strain to hear it yet as loud as

a clap of thunder. “So you’ve been researching have you?” He felt the heat rush to his face. “I…um…” “Before we go any further with this, Daniel, I’ll give you a warning. Don’t ever lie to me. It pisses me off.” He frowned at that. “I wasn’t going to lie. I just got embarrassed by you knowing I’d been snooping is all.” “Okay. So what conclusions have you come to after your… snooping?” “I didn’t. I mean… well you don’t look anything like a demon.” Samael laughed and shook his head. “Hardly surprising since I’m not a demon.” “But you can read Latin and write in some weird letters.” The laughter ceased abruptly. “So you looked at the books as well as the internet. The letters are Hebrew if it interests you, although I can both read and write in every language.” He was getting more and more confused. “But. . . you said you’re not a demon.” “Let’s go and eat and I’ll try to explain over dinner.” He stood his ground. “I’m not going anywhere except out of the door on my own until I know what the hell you are!” Samael sighed and his eyes narrowed. “Very well, Daniel, since you insist. I’m a fallen angel doomed to wander the earth, rather than live in Heaven. I don’t feel particularly doomed, you understand, but the angels of Heaven would tell you that I’m both doomed and damned.” Samael had to be joking. It was ludicrous. And yet he had seen it with his own eyes. “I didn’t believe any of that stuff at all until I read the bit about you being accuser, seducer and destroyer. That - yeah, that I believed because I’ve seen that for myself.” “You experienced it, in fact.” “Yeah!” “So you’d like me to distinguish fact from fiction, is that it?” “I want…” But apart from Samael’s arms around him and that sensual mouth on his, demanding and possessive, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. “Yeah, I guess.” Samael smiled. “And can I do that over dinner?” He bowed his head, admitting defeat. “I’ll get my coat. Thank you for the

clothes, by the way.” “My pleasure. I’m glad you like them.” He turned halfway towards his room and stared. “I didn’t say I liked them.” Samael merely looked at him witheringly. “You got up when a siren woke you. You took a look outside at the storm damage before you examined what was in the bags. Do I have to go on?” “No, I guess not.” He dived into his bedroom, collected the new coat and pulled on the soft black suede boots that he found in yet another bag, all the time wondering what on earth he’d got himself into. *** Samael took Daniel to his favorite restaurant, an Italian-run place just off Fifth Avenue near the Empire State. The place was tucked into the corner of a building and when they arrived they were seated immediately. They ate in companionable silence, Daniel tucking into eggplant parmesan while Samael sliced, diced and ate a tender rare steak. After dinner Samael stared at Daniel from over his wineglass. The boy had eaten a good sized meal and was happily tucking into some sort of sweet and frothy dessert. It brought home to him yet again just how young the mortal really was. He sat back in his booth and smiled. “So, you read a couple of sites on the web and a few things clicked into place. Have I got that right?” Daniel nodded. “Those three words…” “Okay, let’s get rid of the crap first, shall we? Firstly, I’m not a demon except in the sense that I chose to leave what you call Heaven and live on earth. If you have to label me, and mortals do seem to love labels, I’m a fallen angel.” “You told me all this already.” “I know, but I wanted to reiterate it.” He took a sip of his wine and sighed. “Okay let’s get the facts straight. I am the Angel of Death. I was called Shemal by the Syrians, and am still referred to as Shiva by the Hindus. Michael, although a pompous ass, is not my adversary nor did he throw me or anyone else out of Heaven. I have never pretended to be a serpent, I have never been married to Lillith or any other female and, although I sometimes get confused with him, I am not Satan.”

“Wow! So what about all the other stuff?” Daniel looked a little dazed but he admired the boy for wanting to face the truth no matter what it might be. “You mean my being the accuser, seducer and destroyer?” “Yeah that. That bit bothers me cos that bit seems true.” How did he explain to a mortal that he had to be those things? That they were part of his power? Then he remembered their first meeting in that dark alley. “The pimp that was beating you annoyed me with his attitude. How dare he decide life and death? That’s my domain. That was my accusation and I killed him.” “Then you seduced me!” “I wasn’t intending to, but something happened that made me need you. I’m sorry.” “No, no, don’t be sorry. If I’m honest I enjoyed it. It was the first time I ever enjoyed it.” He knew that of course, but it still felt good to hear Daniel admit it. “So you wouldn’t object to doing it again?” This time he was being deliberately seductive and the boy’s wide eyes and gasp of surprise were all the answer he needed. Then the mortal spoiled it all. “It’s not like I could stop you is it?” The stem of his glass snapped under his fingers as he tried to keep a rein on his temper in this public place. A concerned waiter hurried up with a fresh glass, and a desire to inspect his hand for cuts or shards of glass more due to the fear of litigation than his well-being. He let him take the broken glass and examine his completely unscathed hand before waving him away impatiently. Through all this, his gaze never left Daniel’s face as he read the boy’s emotions. Fear, yes, that was there in abundance, but underneath that, real admiration for him, a desire to understand, and lust. He was deliberately cruel in his turn. “You’ve never been able to stop anyone though, have you?” Daniel colored up. “Damn you!” “Too late, Daniel, I damned myself. But let us be civilized with each other once again. If you wish to sleep alone until you’ve made your decision, I have no objection. I will not try to seduce you but, if you should want me then that’s fine too.” He took

another sip of his wine, his temper under control by now. Across the table, Daniel stared down at his plate. “I’m sorry. I guess that was rude.” “Let’s just say a little…unwise shall we?” Daniel swallowed hard and nodded. He was silent while he finished his dessert but there was obviously a lot going on in his head. He put his fork down and glanced over. “Can I ask you a question? Well, several questions really.” He chuckled. “Of course you can. I’m not promising I’ll answer all of them but fire away.” “What is Heaven like?” “Much like Ancient Greece or Rome as there are lots of columns and gardens. It’s basically another dimension very like this one. And the place is a bore.” “Is that why you left?” “There was some infighting and some of us chose to leave rather than accept all the bullshit anymore. The irony is that we are the ones that don’t much like mankind yet we live amongst you.” “See I was taught that… He… threw you out. But you’re telling me something different.” He sighed. How did he explain that he’d never set eyes on any all powerful creator, even when he’d been in Heaven? That as far as he knew, the angels were the gods? “We chose to go and nobody attempted to stop us. One of the seraphim called Metatron basically rules Heaven and we got tired of his rules and regulations.” “When did all this happen?” “Around ten thousand years ago. Mankind was still using stone tools and living in caves when we first came here. We pretty much let you get on with it, unless we had to act for some reason. Why do you think all your religions, both ancient and present are so similar?” Daniel shrugged. “I’d never really thought about it before, but I know the old gods and goddesses were demonized.” He nodded. The boy was bright for someone who’d been living on the streets. “Some of the names are even the same or very similar. Your folk memory was very

strong until you started writing things down and thus setting ideas in stone. You stopped thinking, and accepted what you read, so things were manipulated, especially when some bright spark had the idea that there was only one mind behind Creation. Metatron has encouraged that pattern over the centuries and now most of humanity is stuck with monotheism.” “Yet the Hindus aren’t.” “They’ve still got a lot wrong, but they do at least admit it took a lot of us and that some are female. Have you finished there?” “Could we have some coffee? I don’t really want to move while we’re talking like this.” “Okay.” He called the waiter over and ordered them coffee before lighting a cigarette. “You got a spare?” He pushed the pack across the table. “Help yourself.” He watched Daniel light a cigarette and inhale with some amusement. “Although it doesn’t affect me, smoking doesn’t do you a lot of good.” “Yeah, yeah, I keep hearing that. It can’t be as bad as heroin though.” “If you want to believe that, be my guest.” He fell silent as their coffee arrived and waited until the waiter had taken Daniel’s empty plate and disappeared before speaking again. “So, do you still think I’m a demon?” Daniel smiled and shook his head. “I think you’re a very talented magician or something with an unusual name.” “Really? Why?” “You say the articles had things wrong but you don’t have any wings! You’re supposed to have twelve.” He shook his head and laughed aloud. “Think of a number, double it, add whatever, and take away the number you first thought of. The correct number is six not twelve.” “Whatever. You don’t have any!” “Not that you can see, Daniel. I’d look bloody stupid wandering the streets with

six wings trailing along behind me, now wouldn’t I?” Daniel eyed him and it was obvious that he didn’t believe in the wings. Perhaps one night he would show him the truth of them. *** Samael had kept his word and Daniel had slept alone after they returned from the restaurant. Over breakfast, Samael had suggested he get some fresh air, take a stroll in the park perhaps or do some shopping. He’d opted for the park and had asked rather shyly if Samael would like to accompany him. “I’d love to, Daniel, but I can’t today. Someone wants to see me.” “Oh, okay. Will you be back tonight?” Samael smiled. “Does it matter?” He felt the color rush to his face again. “I…er… I’d like to sleep with you if that’s okay.” Samael’s smile grew and he reached across the breakfast bar to caress his flaming cheek. “As long as you’re sure.” He leaned his head into the touch. “I’m very sure.” “Then I’ll be sure to get back as soon as I can. Enjoy your walk.” He stood up and went to fetch a coat. Black leather this time. The same one he’d been wearing when Daniel had first seen him. “That coat suits you, but the red is even better.” “Thank you.” A light kiss was pressed to his cheek and then Samael left the apartment. He cleaned up the kitchen and collected his own coat. He was just about to leave when he spotted the pack of smokes on the coffee table together with a note. “You’ll probably want these. I’ll bring some back with me.” He smiled to himself and left the apartment. Dressed well, he seemed to have no problems in the foyer, Jackson going so far as to nod to him and mutter, “Good morning, sir.” He returned the greeting, trying hard not to laugh aloud. This was so different to the Jackson he’d first encountered. He set off towards the park, realizing as he went, just how quickly his life had

changed and his body healed. The heroin was no longer an issue, his cravings completely gone, and he was clean and healthy once again. He smiled as he crossed the avenue and headed into the park. Angel did seem more appropriate than demon when referring to Samael, even with those quick flashes of temper. He was so lost in his daydreams of his glorious benefactor that he didn’t notice he’d wandered under the trees, didn’t even notice the men coming up the path behind him until it was too late and he was grabbed by strong and hurtful hands. “Gino has been looking for you, whore.” Murphy and a few of his goons and if Gino Scarlatti wanted to see him, he was in for a world of pain before he finally died. “Let go of me!” His voice sounded pitiful even to his own ears. They laughed at him, hands and fists merciless as they dragged him towards the gate. He kicked out and struggled hard, but it was useless, and he was bundled into the back seat of a waiting black sedan. Murphy and one of the other thugs got in with him while the other climbed in the front passenger seat and the car pulled smoothly away. The whole incident had taken no more than five minutes, and had caused not a ripple in the busy city. “You’ve caused me a lot of fucking trouble, asshole,” Murphy said, and punched him in the stomach. “I’m glad you’re alive so Gino can have his fun with you.” “You think he’ll let a cockroach like you watch?” Daniel’s only hope was to get Murphy mad enough to pull a gun and kill him cleanly. But Murphy wasn’t playing. “As long as I can hear your screams I’ll be happy.” The other thugs chuckled and he lost every last trace of hope as the car bore him inexorably towards Scarlatti and certain death. *** “What’s on your mind, Lucifer?” Samael had flown to Lucifer’s domain. Like Heaven, it was in a separate dimension. Only mortals referred to it as Hell. Far from any Dante-esque vision, it was well lit, warm and comfortable, completely in tune with Lucifer’s hedonistic personality. His brother legend was thrilled by the senses, taking pleasure in the feel of a warm fire or a long soak in a spa pool. He loved silks, satins and velvets. Although not a

big eater, he did enjoy epicurean tastes in both food and wine. His surroundings reflected all of this and more. “I’m a little surprised that you turned up at all.” Lucifer’s melodious voice always held a sarcastic undertone, but today it was more pronounced than usual. He indicated an armchair on the other side of the open fire and sat down, crossing his legs. Samael stayed standing and frowned. “Has Beliel been telling tales?” “Not at all. But Metatron had the nerve to send a message to me about your interfering outside your own domain.” Lucifer’s beautiful visage took on a distinct change as his anger showed and became almost bestial. Samael was just as furious but held his temper. “I wasn’t aware that I had a domain.” “No, nor I but Metatron seems to think the element of air is Raphael’s toy and not yours. Do sit down, Samael!” He perched on the edge of the armchair and scowled. “Interfering busybody!” Lucifer’s mood seemed to change and his face resumed its natural beauty. “I assume you saw Raphael.” “Yes. Then Beliel wanted to play so I soothed my feelings and gave him his fun with that hurricane.” Lucifer sighed. “I’m sorry, Samael.” “It’s not your fault. Raphael chose to stay and I chose to go so there’s nothing more to be said.” “Your loyalty to me made you leave. Do you have time to talk today, or does your young mortal need you?” He chuckled and sat back making himself more comfortable. “You don’t miss a trick do you?” Lucifer shrugged indifferently. “I try not to. I only noticed because it seemed so out of character for you. Don’t hurt yourself even more, my brother.” “I won’t. He’s bright and sexy, but he’s just a mortal when all’s said and done. No doubt I’ll soon tire of him.” “Ah, but I know just how impetuous you can be.” He had to acknowledge the justice of that. He was impetuous. It had been

impetuosity that had made him rescue Daniel in the first place. Thinking about the mortal made Samael search for him only to find Daniel struggling in the grip of several suited thugs. “Lucifer, I have to go. I’m sorry.” “Yes, so I see. Bring the boy to see me one day, and ignore Metatron.” “Don’t I always?” He was flexing his wings, itching to be on his way. “Go on,” Lucifer said and he took flight. But not before he heard the Son of the Morning chuckle and say, “So impetuous.” *** Gino Scarlatti was a bull-necked, squat-bodied and short-legged thug that no amount of expensive silk suiting could turn into a gentleman. He was bending over Daniel who was tied to a chair in his office. Behind him Murphy chuckled until Scarlatti told him to get out, in no uncertain terms. Poor Murphy would have to content himself with listening. “I don’t care how much your new pimp has spent on clothes for you, your mine to do as I please with! How dare you change employers?” Daniel didn’t answer. Whatever he might say would only make things worse, so he stayed quiet and tried to conserve energy for the ordeal to come. A pudgy hand adorned with heavy gold rings cracked across his face, tearing his lip in passing. “Answer me, you little fuck!” “I haven’t changed employees,” he got out around a mouthful of blood. “Then who’s the dude with the expensive pad?” He felt hysteria bubble up as he said, “A fallen angel.” Another blow to the other cheek this time. “Don’t get smart with me, wiseass! Who is he?” “I told you. His name is Samael.” “Samuel what?” “Not Samuel. Samael. It means poison of God and he’s the Angel of Death.” Daniel was laughing now, as the last thirty-six hours took on a dreamlike quality and he began to wonder if they were something he’d seen in a heroin-induced dream.

“Fuck with me and it’ll be the worse for you!” Scarlatti was getting more and more angry with him but there was nothing he could do about it. The truth was so bizarre that it was never going to be believed. “Okay punk you asked for it!” Scarlatti moved away to gaze down at his desk where a box of the type usually used for tools stood open and ready. He knew the box didn’t contain regular tools but instead instruments designed to elicit the greatest amount of pain before actually killing the victim. Daniel lifted his head, wanting to see what Scarlatti had in store for him, when a movement to his left caught his eye. Samael, black wings spread in flight as he hovered outside the window. His laughter became even more hysterical as he realized that pain and fear had finally driven him over the edge of the abyss and into madness. The crash of breaking glass sobered him and Samael was there, resplendent and terrifying. Scarlatti dropped the scalpel he’d selected and backed up several feet. Samael glanced at the door and glowered. From outside came several groans, followed by three muffled thumps as bodies hit the carpet of the outer office. Murphy should have just gone home. The Angel of Death turned his attention to Scarlatti. “You do not lay your filthy paws on what is mine.” Samael didn’t raise his voice. It was as soft as a summer breeze: a breeze heavy with the threat of an imminent thunder storm complete with accompanying tornadoes. Daniel waited for Scarlatti to argue but he didn’t. Instead, a damp patch spread down one expensively clad leg as he pissed himself. Samael ignored him for a moment as he released Daniel from his bonds. He lifted him to his feet and made certain he could stand before letting go of him. “Wait outside, Daniel. In fact wait downstairs in the lobby.” “But…” That inhuman glare was fixed on him and he swallowed hard. “Don’t argue with me, Daniel. You really don’t want to stay, I promise you.” Reluctantly he left the office, shutting the door behind him. Murphy and his two companions were sprawled across the floor, bleeding from their ears and noses, and very obviously dead. He stepped round them to reach the door just as a terrified scream came from the inner office. He shuddered and pulled the door open, almost pulling it off its

hinges in his haste. Then he was running for the lift, still hearing that scream sounding in his ears. *** Samael crossed to the desk and picked a thin, probe-like object out of the box. He glanced at it for a second before advancing on Scarlatti. The underworld thug screamed, a horrible keening ululation, before he even touched him. A flutter at the window announced the arrival of Beliel. “You weren’t going to start without me were you?” “You’d better be sure that Daniel remains safe or you’ll be next!” “Your pretty toy is fine, if somewhat upset. He’s waiting in the lobby as you instructed, and he’s trying to come to terms with this side of you.” Samael sighed. He knew there was no way the boy could come to terms with him in his angelic form. Then he turned his attention to Scarlatti. “Would you like to hold him for me, Beliel?” The green demon grinned. “Always my pleasure, my lord.” Some time later, when Scarlatti was an unrecognizable, blood-stained lump of flesh on the floor, Samael resumed his human form and raised a dark brow at Beliel. “Satisfied?” “Oh, yes. You surpassed yourself today, I think.” “I was angry.” “Yes, I’d say you were furious. Your mortal is still waiting for you by the way.” “It might be better for you to go to him and set him up with somewhere to live and some money.” Beliel was unusually grave when he heard his words. “You want him to remember you by this?” “It would be better for him. The little fool is on the brink of falling in love with me, and we both know how that always ends.” Beliel sighed. “Aye. They grow old and die on you. And Lucifer is never moved to immortalize them.” “Exactly. I don’t want to go through all that again, Beliel. Especially not after seeing…him the other night.”

Beliel folded his arms and leaned against the desk. “I’ve never known you to care this much before. You’ve always used them, abused them and left them.” Samael shook his head at his own dumb cowardice, at the fact that Daniel’s questions and his reactions to the answers had evoked his admiration. Most would not have even searched for, let alone accepted the truth. “I do care,” he admitted. “I don’t know why but I do.” “What did the Morning Star have to say?” He frowned at Beliel. “It seems I have to thank you for keeping your big mouth shut for once.” “But he knew it all anyway, right?” “Of course he did.” His frown deepened. “Oh shit!” Beliel chuckled, a sound like breaking glass. “Go on. You know you’ll tell me sooner or later.” He began pacing so hard he was likely to wear a hole in the plush grey carpet. “He wants to meet Daniel.” Beliel’s laughter ceased abruptly. “Unusual,” he commented. “Yes, isn’t it? Oh hell!” Beliel shrugged. “Of course, that does mean you’ll need to keep the mortal for a while.” He glared at the pest. “Laugh again and I’ll pull your wings off, feather by feather! Now go back wherever you came from and leave me alone!” Beliel winced and turned ready to fly back out of the window. “And Beliel, thank you.” The demon grinned. “Like I said, great one, my pleasure.” Then he was flying through the air at a speed too swift for mortals to comprehend, let alone see. He smiled to himself, glanced once more at the remains of what had once been Gino Scarlatti and folded his wings away so he could appear totally mortal before leaving the office and taking the elevator down to where Daniel waited in the lobby. *** It was a silent trip back to the apartment, Samael seemingly deep in thought and Daniel not knowing what he should say, if anything. It was only when they were walking from the subway station to the apartment that Samael spoke.

“I think we’d better eat in tonight. There are things we need to discuss that cannot be resolved in public.” He shook slightly. Here it came. Go back to the streets, Daniel, I’m done with you. He could almost hear Samael saying the words. “I never did get to take that walk.” Samael nodded his agreement. “You’re right, and I usually find it better to be moving when serious things have to be said. Grim words tend to be indigestible, don’t you think?” He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He hardly noticed as they crossed the avenue and entered the park. Instead of the bird song and ever present traffic noise, he was hearing a horrified scream. He glanced sidelong at Samael, finding it difficult to equate the beautiful man at his side with the avenging angel from Scarlatti’s office. And yet both had shown concern for his wellbeing. “You want me to leave, don’t you?” “I want what’s best for you, Daniel.” He gave a mirthless little laugh. “Yeah, right, every bastard tells me that, teachers, my parents, Angelo, and they’re all full of shit! You gave me a week to make a decision, remember? You’re the one who asked me to stay!” To his surprise Samael chuckled. “You’re not in the least bit afraid of me, are you?” Scarlatti’s appalling scream echoed in his head again, but he didn’t feel any fear of Samael, even when he’d entered Scarlatti’s office in all his awful glory, he hadn’t been afraid of him. “No. You wanna know why?” Samael nodded. “I am intrigued.” “It’s simple. When it’s time for me to die, you’ll be the one who takes me.” Samael stopped in his tracks, and Daniel turned to see what the problem was. Samael was staring at him with real sorrow in his expression. “What’s up?” “All I can ever promise you, Daniel is death, even if it is as gentle and as long delayed as I can make it.” He walked back to his demonic angel and stroked his cheek. “You worry too much.”

“Tell me something, have you always been this wise?” He grinned. “Nah. Not even streetwise.” But the grin faded as he remembered why they were there and he let his hand drop back to his side. “So when do you want me to go?” His hand was grabbed and Samael raised it to his cheek once more. “I don’t. That wasn’t what I wanted to discuss. Well, only in a roundabout way. Lucifer wants to meet you.” He stared. “Me? Why?” “I have no idea. You’re the first mortal I’ve come across he’s ever expressed a desire to meet.” “Should I be scared?” Samael rubbed his cheek against Daniel’s hand before letting it go again. “Only if you treat him with disrespect.” He replaced the hand in his coat pocket before turning to walk at Samael’s side once more. “So, about that week? Does that still stand?” Samael chuckled. “Yes.” He nodded and kicked at a loose pebble on the path. “And you’re going to sleep in your own room for the whole of it?” “If that’s what you want, yes.” He nodded again before laughing. “For an all seeing immortal you can be really dumb. I don’t need a week, Samael. I’ve already made my decision.” The whole world seemed to miss a heartbeat before Samael said, “Oh?” He nodded yet again and smiled at his companion. “I was thinking about the talk we had last night when I went to bed and I realized something. If I want a good job, I’ll need to go to college and if I do that I’ll just be regurgitating other scholars’ ideas. Because once stuff is written it might as well be set in stone, right? So I’d rather learn to read your books, and learn from someone who actually knows all the answers. “Of course it doesn’t get me an official degree as such, but I think I’m going to need a lifetime just to learn.” A strong arm appeared round his waist and Samael brought them both to a halt before turning to stare at him. “I think you must already be as old as sin to have worked

that much out. Does that mean you want to stay?” Daniel gazed into those cold eyes and found that they were no longer cold, but full of dark fire. “I know you’re moody and autocratic and all the rest of it, but yes, I want to stay.” Samael’s other arm joined its fellow and he was pulled closer and very thoroughly kissed. He snaked his own arm’s round Samael’s neck and returned the kiss until a disgusted passerby with a dog told them to get a room. They broke apart laughing and resumed their walk. The past might be full of grief and the future an uncertain one but for now they were content.