Gabriel dropped a very heavy, very old tome onto the table. "It's Belial."

"Fucking Belial!" Mikha'el spat immediately.

I glanced between them. "Er—who is Belial?"

"He is one of the nine princes of the Order of Novenary," Gabriel explained at Mikha'el silently but visibly seethed. "The Novenary is not to be trifled with. Belial and Abbadon are especially bad—pure corruption, with Belial being the prince of wrath."

"God told me to show the archangels Hell through a scry pool as a warning of what awaited them should they Fall, and the bastard was looking right at me, grinning, as I did," Mikha'el spat. "To peek into Hell is largely forbidden—we have certain treaties in place with Lucifer to stave off outright war."

"What?!" I could not believe my ears. "Treaties—with Lucifer?! How have I not heard of this?!"

"Only archangels are privy to this information. What happened to Auriel and Metatron would be considered a good day if these treaties were not in place," Gabriel said, looking at me gravely.

"And on the other side of the coin, what us angels would do to Hell?" Mikha'el snorted. "Keep in mind Heaven far out numbers all of Hell."

"Then why don't we just storm Hell and be done with it?! If we truly out number Hell by that much, then—"

Gabriel cut me off. "God still loves Lucifer."

I slammed my mouth shut.

"That does not leave this room," Mikha'el said seriously, a threatening undertone to his words.

Gabriel rifled his wings, almost as a nervous tic. "If Lucifer were to ever come to God and seek his forgiveness, God would accept him back into the fold with open arms. However, he is too prideful to do so."

"And God is too prideful to extend an olive branch," Mikha'el said.

"Thus," Gabriel said with eyebrows raised, sounding sad and frustrated all at once, "Heaven and Hell remain in a stalemate."

I clenched my hands into fists. "While humans are caught in the crossfire!"

Mikha'el waved his hand. "We have hit a tangent. How in God's good name are we going to take down Belial?"

"Are we sure it's Belial?" I said. "The demon I saw come out of Auriel was female."

Mikha'el laughed. "For as brilliant as you are, Sera, you really are daft sometimes."

I'm sure the look I gave him was as though I had just sipped soured milk.

"All demons are tricksters," Gabriel said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He was so concerned with concealing who he was, of course he would have made himself look different as well."

"We'll know soon enough," Mikha'el continued, "they're working with Auriel and Metatron as we speak—"

Suddenly the doors to the room we were in were thrown open. We all looked; Auriel was billowing towards us. I had rarely seen him look as angry. I had also never seen him so intimidating. Black lightning and natural flames flicked off his wings. There had never been a reason for me to see his angelic powers, and, to be honest, I had come to see him more as a scholar than a weapon of God.

I swallowed. He was scary.

He came over to our table and slammed both hands on the table, hunched over. He glared, looking downright feral.

Mikha'el smiled, nonplussed. "Good day, brother."

"Belial. Belial. Belial! The bastard's name is Belial, and I am going to kill him." Auriel spat out, looking at the three of us individually. Suddenly he had a knife in his hand, silver and gleaming, and he held it up to us. He began to shake. "We are going to raid Hell, kill anything in our way, and when I find him I'm going to slit his throat for what he's done."

Auriel slammed the blade into the table, embedding it in the wood an inch. Gabriel looked a bit freaked out. When I looked at Mikha'el, he was smiling.

"I like the sound of that. Let us plan, shall we?"

~

"I would like to speak with Malael."

It was late. Myself and the core archangels had been strategizing all day. Mikha'el and I sat in the tavern, enjoying wine together.

Mikha'el didn't answer immediately, his face neutral. Finally he set his cup down and looked at me over his steepled hands. "Might I inquire why?"

"We need all the information we can gather before we execute our operation."

Mikha'el paused a moment more, then, "No."

"What? Why?!"

"Sera," Mikha'el said evenly, leaning forward, "she's been deeply traumatized. Kidnapped while pregnant. Birthing her son in Hell. Being imprisoned for years."

"Precisely—do we have anyone in all of Heaven who is such an asset?"

My ward looked away.

"Mikha'el," I implored. "I would not be asking this if I didn't think it was important. You should know, out of anyone, the last thing I want to do is cause further discomfort in anything that isn't evil. Please."

He still didn't look at me.

"You and I both know that even if you say no, I am going to do this."

"We have respectfully been letting her live in seclusion with her son," Mikha'el said quietly and dropped his eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry. This pains me."

"Why are you even asking me?"

"Because—because—"

He looked at me. "Well?"

"I respect your opinion."

Mikha'el picked up his cup and drained his wine. When he spoke, he didn't meet my gaze. "I have thought of this as well. I couldn't bring myself to burden her."

"I know," I replied gently.

~

I drew in a slow, deep breath, held it, and then knocked on the wooden door in front of me.

I was in the residential district. Angels were allowed to decorate their abodes as they saw fit. Even so, most were mostly plain. Very few had any sort of adornments on the exterior.

The house I stood in front of was the exception. Potted plants hung from the arched doorway. On either side of the door, beneath each window, were flower beds overflowing with lovely flowers of reds, oranges, yellows, and some pinks. To my surprise bumblebees had been imported, and I allowed an especially fat one to play and buzz about my hand. Beneath each window was a wooden box which held even more flowers. A hummingbird flit past, and I watched it go to an apple tree. A butterfly drew my attention then, and I watched it land on a curled frond of a purple flower.

The door opened abruptly. Standing before me was Malael. She looked—better. The wounds around her mouth had healed. She wasn't emaciated, but was still rather unhealthily skinny. Her skin was sallow, and her deep dark eyes were haunted. Behind her unmistakably was her son, curled up behind her, trying to hide. It was a bit ridiculous, seeing as he was larger than she. I caught sight of his spine, a tuft of curly blonde hair over her left shoulder, some wings and his knees.

I smiled as warmly as I could. "Good tidings to you, Malael."

She didn't say anything. I noticed her son behind her quivered.

"Might I please come in?"

Nothing. I continued to smile, hesitantly at what it conveyed. I didn't know if she wanted my pity.

"I wish to speak with you."

The bony hand on the door clenched so hard for a moment I heard the wood groan. I glanced at it. Her nails had been trimmed but were still long, manicured and beautiful now. I looked back at her as she stepped aside, allowing me entrance, her son scuttling behind her. With some hesitation, I entered.

It hadn't occurred to me that, after so long being captive, unable to speak, that she couldn't speak anymore. The thought unnerved me. As I followed her through the house (her son had shuffled in front of her, trying to stay out of sight, though I caught him glancing furtively over her shoulder from time to time. His eyes were large pools of innocence, caramel colored. They reminded me of a child's, and my heart broke for this fully-grown, adult angel), I took note of how gorgeous this house was. A lot of love had clearly been poured into it.

The floor was wooden, a sweet honey color. Everything was white, with many windows, natural light pouring in. There were many wrought iron candlesticks situated in every room. Doorways had plants hanging from them—every windowsill was neatly overflowing with boxed plants, herbs of all kinds. She led me to a seating area with plush white couches. Malael sat and crossed her legs, and I was surprised at how regal she looked. Her son had sought refuge behind the chair, peeking out at me.

I looked around, and noticed off to the side was a kitchen. It too looked lovely, stuffed with potted foodstuffs plants. There were some delicious looking red bell peppers in my line of sight. It made me smile.

"Your house is lovely. I adore it."

Malael paused, and then nodded. She didn't smile. I noticed her wings weren't fully healed yet. They had been bathed and were their proper white, but there were patches of missing feathers, and parts of her wings were bent, evidently unable to be reset. I refused to display anything but good will towards her.

"Do you like it? Your accommodations are to your liking?"

She nodded again. I wanted to sigh, but withheld the urge.

"Look, I..."

My throat clenched. Now that it came down to it, I wasn't sure if I could go through with my questions. I could just brush it off as a wellness check and be on my way, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to do that either. As I sat, something unexpected happened. Malael tilted her head inquisitively, narrowing her eyes.

"What's your name?"