A knock on the door of his private chambers roused Michael. He frowned at the sound. Only a few people were allowed into that part of the Villa, and none were currently on speaking terms with him. He waited a moment, believing he must've dreamt it, but there was another knock, more insistent.
 Hurriedly, Michael rose from his bed, dressed himself in a robe, and unlocked it. He gasped silently at Margaret's appearance. There was something different about her. Her hair was bound with a golden hairpin. She wore a mint-coloured Romanesque gown underneath a dark red cape. The pendant he had given her as a mortal hung around her neck. Michael's eyes briefly focussed on it. Had she just put it on, or did she always wear it? If she did, how come he never noticed?

"Margaret? Why have you returned?" 

"When I was with you before, I asked you to tell me the truth. Did you?"

Fear took hold of Michael. He swallowed inconspicuously, and cocked his head, faking curiosity.

"What makes you think I did not?" he asked her, hiding his uneasiness by remaining in control of his shaking voice.

"Something I heard from Raphael. He told me what happened between LightBringer and me was real. That he did love me. And that apparently Archangels have the power to give life, explaining how I would've been with child."

"That is what Gabriël told us. But as you well know, he has been under the influence of a powerful demon. As I said before, we have no knowledge of how your child, or Joan's, was conceived. Had I known for a fact it was the Lord's work, and had I been assured that any of LightBringer's feelings for you were real, I would not have stood in the way of your happiness. But there was no truth in your affair with him. Neither is there any between Gabriël and Joan."

Michael tried to sound convincing, keeping his face straight. He prayed to God she would believe him. Margaret pushed past him to enter the room. Usually, Michael barred entry to his chamber, but something stopped him from objecting now. She glanced about the space and then faced him again. 

"When we spoke earlier, I offered you my help," she said. "I thought you might be interested to know that Raphael has told Catherine and Isabelle the same story he told me. They believed him. Raphael wants to warn the Nephilim as well. I don't know if he plans on telling anyone else."

Michael let go of his door. It shut on its own, and he leaned back against the frame to steady himself. He fought desperately not to give in to panic. If Raphael spoke with the other Archangels... This could ruin him! 

"I can convince them not to," Margaret continued. "I'll just tell them that, until we know more of this, I wouldn't be comfortable with anyone else knowing about my past."

"Do you really believe they will keep silent?" Michael glanced up at her.

"Not if you asked them. They don't exactly trust you anymore. But they worry about me, so I will have the most sway over them."

"What of Joan? I would have thought you wanted her to be safe." 

"Of course I do. She's one of my best friends. But if there's the slightest chance of that baby being something evil, we must act. The risk of not doing so is too great."

Michael eyed Margaret cautiously. Of all people, she was the last person he'd imagined getting involved and help him keep the secret. Was she being truthful about her intentions to help him? Or did she believe Raphael, and was she attempting to goad him? Could Margaret be playing her own game? Whatever the case, he had to see this through and convince her his way was the only way.

"I thank you for telling me this, Margaret," he spoke. "And you are right, of course. We must act to defeat the darkness in whatever way we can. I only want what is best for everyone, I swear it."

"Yes, I know. You're always the one keeping everyone safe. We owe everything to you."

Her emerald eyes glistened, and Michael found they matched her auburn curl beautifully. Was this what had attracted Lucifer to her? Had her innocent mortal delicacy lured his lover away from his own angelic grace? Why did he suddenly feel so... enthralled by her?

"I... I will escort you out."

Michael stepped toward Margaret and touched her arm with the tip of his fingers. A jolt ran through him. An intense electrifying sensation, almost. His heart thumped strangely out of beat. What was happening? 
Their eyes met. That look Margaret gave him... He opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent when she loosened her cape in one swift motion, letting it fall to the ground. Before Michael knew what was happening, her dress pooled around her feet, and she stood naked in front of him.

"Margaret! What are you -?"

She drew him closer with one hand at the nape of his neck. Michael's eyes widened as her lips touch his. He tried to push her away, but the longer the kiss lasted, the more he stopped resisting. Not because he wanted it, but because... her lips felt eerily like Lucifer's. She felt like him. Michael felt Lucifer's touch, heard his voice, smelled his scent, saw his figure in his mind's eye... It was so overwhelming, so powerful, that Michael almost surrendered to it. Fortunately, he snapped out of whatever spell Margaret put him under when she pressed against him and tugged at the band of his robe, trying to loosen it. Michael grabbed her wrist so she couldn't undress him and took hold of her other arm, forcing her to let go of him. She panted, slightly out of breath, but never took her lustful eyes off him. What had got over her?

"Nobody needs to know," she spoke tentatively. "We're already keeping secrets from the others. What's one more?"

He shook his head at Margaret, bewildered at her actions and words. Why would she risk losing her wings by revealing herself like this?

"We cannot do this," said Michael.

"Why not? You cannot deny we are bonded because of our past, Michael. If there is anyone I would want to do this with, it would be you. So let me be with you now. Allow me to give you the release you crave, even if it's only this one time."

Our past... Why is she saying it like that? Why is this happening? We barely speak to one another. Merely in passing or at gatherings. I never noticed her interest in me before. But... I never noticed his either.  

"After all these years of watching you, I believe I know what you want, Michael. Who you want. But Gabriël is gone. He might never return. And if he does, he will never feel for you what you feel for him. You have to forget him and whoever else caused you such pain."

Oddly enough, Margaret was right. For too long, he had both denied and accepted his feelings for Gabriël. Even when he knew he could never have him, it had been enough for Michael to just be near him. Having Gabriël around had helped him to (almost) forget about Lucifer. He needed to cast him out of his mind now. But not like this. And certainly not with Margaret.

"You should leave." Michael let go of her and stepped back.

"Michael, please stop tormenting yourself. You need this."

"Do not presume to tell me what I need!"

He could not bear to look at her any longer and turned away. Margaret sighed behind him. He watched her gather her clothes from the corner of his eye, but made sure not to look back as she dressed herself. Before she left, she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was meant to comfort, but it just hurt.

"If you change your mind," she whispered, "you know where to find me."

"Just... Leave me, Marina."

He waited for her to be gone, his fists clenched. As soon as the door closed, Michael uttered a guttural groan and fell to his knees. How could he have let this happen? He cursed himself for his weakness. For falling into carnal desire, however brief it may have been, and for allowing that woman to play tricks with his mind. There was only one person she could have learned that from.
The decisions he had made in the past were catching up with him. Haunting him. Whatever the future held, Michael was certain it would only damn him further. He only hoped he wouldn't drag anyone with him when he fell from grace.

***

Cesare sat up in bed, sleep once more eluding him. He glanced at Kitty, lying at his side. It'd been wishful thinking on his part to believe she would wear him out and get him to sleep for more than three hours. He should've guessed a few romps in the sack - however active and rough they'd been - wouldn't alleviate him of the energy bubbling within him.
For a few seconds, Cesare played with the idea of waking her to have his way with her again, but the sight of her peaceful expression kept him from doing so. He didn't want to disturb whatever sweet dream she was having. God knows demons weren't allowed that many. That still left him with his predicament, though. 
A sudden knock pulled Cesare from his musings. He frowned. Who would be stupid enough to disturb him in his private room? Realising then it could only be the Master's stooge, Cesare stood up, put on his pants, and walked to the door. He was perplexed to find the Master himself standing before him.

"My Lord? Why are you — I mean, how may I be of service?" He was quick to compose himself and show the proper respect the Devil deserved.

"Forgive me for intruding on you, but I wish to discuss something."

Cesare opened the door further to let the Prince of Hell in. The imposing man walked to the centre of the room, where his eyes fell on the former Howard Queen.

"The girl pleases you, I see," he remarked.

"She does, my Lord. I am grateful you sent her to me."

"I thought she would. She's somewhat like her, isn't she? Like Lucrezia?"

Cesare said nothing. None was like Lucrezia.

"I wanted to inform you of recent developments in our plan," continued the Master. "You've been told of the identity of the Nephilim who stopped you from taking Joan?"

Indeed, he was. The irony of another Tudor Queen crossing Cesare's path had not escaped him. 

"I know of them, yes." Cesare gritted his teeth as he spoke.

"Good, then you will be prepared for them the next time you meet. Grigori keeps watch at their Sanctum, so any useful intelligence shall be sent to you at once."

If Cesare had to trust the monk, he would never get the chance to have his revenge. But it was of little matter. He had already arranged for his own spies through the Blood Countess. Her Intel would undoubtedly be much more valuable than anything that monaco would provide.

"Something else you need to know; Gabriël has left the Vale."

"What? Of his own accord?" Cesare couldn't believe it.

"Well, let's just say I persuaded him to find out the truth about certain things the Lord Protector kept hidden from him. I took him to the Resia Sanctum after meeting with him. He'll be with Joan now, no doubt."

"Why would you - my Lord, forgive me, but I don't understand. Why did you help him?"

"Because that is the deal between us. Gabriël swore his service to me, and I swore protection for him and Joan in exchange. Them spending some quality time together is merely a sign of good faith."

"Then what the fuck was the point of us going after her in the first place?"

Kitty stirred in her sleep, but Cesare took no notice of it. He was seething. Was he really only a puppet on a string?

"You were supposed to bring Joan of Arc to me, my dear boy," said the Master in a calm voice. "So that we could use her to get to Gabriël. But seeing how you failed, I had to turn the plan around. Now Gabriël will bring the girl. And with her, I will have their child."

For a moment, Cesare thought he had misunderstood. He blinked and cocked his head in confusion. 

"Their child? You mean -"

"Joan is pregnant with Gabriël's offspring, indeed." The Master grinned. "You see, that was my true goal all along. To create a child, sired by an Archangel. It happened once before, but the Lord Protector put a stop to it. This time, we won't let him. When we have Joan, the Countess will ensure her safety. Perhaps your little pet can keep her company as well. As for Gabriël, he was never a good fighter, but does have the potential to be one. You will see to that, yes?"

"Y-Yes, my Lord." Cesare was too stupefied to say anything else. 

"He has not yet broken his vow to God, but that's only a matter of time. And Joan's faith in Him was shattered a long time ago. They will realise soon that the only way to keep their baby safe is by embracing the darkness. As soon as we have all three of them, the Lord Protector and the Vale are done for."

Cesare had never imagined it would all turn out like this. He grudgingly made peace with the fact that Gabriël and Joan would join them after the Master explained that part of the plan some time ago. Yet finding that all these events, from the poison to the affair, to Joan's fall and Gabriël's departure, were planned for a baby... It was too hard to fathom.

"How do we proceed from here then, my Lord?" he asked.

"For now, we do nothing," said the Master. "We must wait for Gabriël and Joan to reach out. I will meet with them and convince them both to switch allegiance when the time comes. Once that's done, we can continue with the next phase of our plan."

He placed a hand on Cesare's shoulder. The touch felt cold to his bare skin. 

"Tell no one of this. I will inform the Countess of her role, but the rest of your team doesn't need to know. Am I understood?"

Cesare bowed his head, obliging with the order. The Devil swept past him and shut the door when he exited the room. Quiet seconds ticket away. Then there was a faint rustle.

"How much did you hear?" 

He turned around. Kitty clutched the covers over her bosom as she sat up in bed, her eyes worried. Scared.

"Something about a baby? A-And Joan and Gabriël?"

Cesare rushed to the bed and took hold of her hair.

"I will have your fucking head if you repeated anything you heard!" he threatened. 

"I won't say anything!" cried Kitty. 

She yelped when he pulled her closer. Her hands grasped his wrist, trying to loosen his grip on her. The sheet slipped off her upper body.

"Swear it," hissed Cesare.

"I swear! My Lord, please!"

She started sobbing. At that moment, she did remind him of Lucrezia. Cesare had never physically hurt his sister, but they'd had their fights. And she'd always won by using her tears against him. Kitty was no Lucrezia and yet... She fell back on the bed as he let go of her hair.

"You're just a little girl, aren't you?" he sneered. "A little girl who likes to pretend she's a Queen when she's only a slave. You're pathetic. You're nothing."

Kitty wiped a tear from her face. She sat on her knees, facing him.

"Perhaps," she said. "But you know, I am useful to you. To fulfil your every desire."

"And what is it you think I desire?" dared Cesare.

"You haven't had another in here since I warmed your bed. You satisfy your thirst with me every moment you get. Maybe I'm not so different from your sister, after all."

Cesare made to strike her, but she quickly continued, "And I know how you can get revenge on my cousin!"

He lowered his hand.

"Explain yourself," he demanded.

"Anne and I are both from the Howard bloodline. If you use my blood in a spell to find someone who is lost, you can find anyone who shares that blood."

"I already know where the bitch is, you stupid girl! I can't get to her as long as she's in the Sanctum with the other Nephilim."

"I did say you would find anyone who shares Howard-blood, didn't I?" Kitty smirked maliciously. "You can't get to my cousin directly, that's true. But you can get to her children. If I remember correctly, the children of the Nephilim need to leave the Sanctum at eighteen. They can visit, of course, but they must make their own way in the world. Depending on who their parents are, they might know how to defend themselves, but that shouldn't be a problem for you. And because they are technically human, with only a hint of angel blood, no demon-forged weapons are required to kill them. Even if you only hurt them, they don't heal like the Nephilim. The further they breed, the easier it gets to eliminate them."

Could it really be possible that Kitty had the perfect scheme for his revenge? This silly girl?

"How do you know all this?" He sat down beside her.

"I have my ways. But I assure you, all I say is true. If you want my cousin to suffer, this is the way to do it."

Cesare mulled the idea over. It was tempting. He could get rid of Anne Boleyn's entire bloodline in one swoop. Her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren... She and Thomas Wyatt left the Vale at the end of the sixteenth century. They must have had some children at some point. The Blood Countess could cast the spell that would lead him right to the little lambs. Yes, this would hurt the Boleyn whore far more than any physical torture he could inflict. 

"It would seem I have misjudged you," Cesare said, cupping Kitty's face and drawing to her.

"I told you," she whispered. "I am here to fulfil your every desire."

"So you are... my Queen."

Cesare kissed the Howard girl and let her climb on top of him. For once, she could be the one in charge. She deserved it. Together, they would bring down Anne Boleyn and her Nephilim. And when that was done, he would get rid of Gabriël, too. With or without the Master's permission.

***

Joan paced in front of her bed. She was trying to make sense of the dream she'd had when she was unconscious. The Nephilim dead, Gabriël taking their baby, her mother, Borgia... And then those golden angel wings descending. Surely it meant something.
She walked to the mirror to look at her reflection. What she saw startled her. Her skin was pale white, almost ghostlike. Bits of hair had come loose from her braid, making it look like a worn-down bird's nest. The girl in the mirror dressed in the loose jeans and oversized T-shirt wasn't the warrior Joan once was. She was no longer the angel she'd been, either. If her mother could see her now...

Maman, tu me manques. 

She missed all of them. Her mother, Catherine, Margaret, even Raphael and Peter. She missed her home by the Lake of Nevaeh, her horse Spiritus. She missed... Gabriël.
The dream had only caused her to doubt his love more. Borgia claimed Gabriël had never loved her. It seemed foolish to believe a demon, and yet, his words had triggered the struggle that was raging inside her. Joan had loved Gabriël with all her heart. She had believed he loved her in return. But now look where she was. Fallen, in hiding with the Nephilim, and pregnant with a child who might never know its father.

Joan had woken up that morning, intending to ask Hypatia and Thomas if there was any way to get rid of the baby. She couldn't bear the thought of carrying and raising a child when it had been conceived out of a lie. But when she had felt the pain and dreamed of her child being taken, she'd been angry with herself for having considered it. Of course, she could do this. And she would love this baby. She didn't know why, but she felt like there was no love more important. Unconditional love for this being growing inside her. She was resolved to do this - with or without Gabriël.
But Joan couldn't help but think of him with every breath she took. Was it a lie, or was it real? Did Gabriël know about her condition? Was he at home, forgetting about her? Or was he still Michael's captive in the catacombs? Would he even want a child?
The Nephilim seemed to truly pity her and wanted to help, but to involve them deeper in her affair with Gabriël could be dangerous. If her dream proved to hold meaning after all, then Joan would be the one who had to help the Nephilim. Before they all died.
A brief knock on her door shook her away from her thoughts.

"Come in."

Anne opened the door. There was a hint of dejection in her dark eyes, and her forehead was creased. The corners of her mouth were slightly turned down.

"Joan, I'm sorry to disturb you," Anne said. "There is someone here to see you."

The Fallen Angel stood alert. Based on Anne's grave mood, it could only be Michael. He may only wish to talk, but Joan was certain he knew of the baby. And in that case, she had to be ready for anything he would try on her.
Anne gestured for someone to step forward. A youthful man appeared in the opening. He was dressed in a black suit, like something a lawyer would wear. His hair was messy, as if he had been running in the wind. Joan gasped at the sight of him. It wasn't Michael, as she'd thought.

"Gabriël?"