Entice: An Ignite Novella (10 page)

“That is not what we were told.” Botis matches Naamah’s demeaning tone. “I specifically heard the words ‘unobtrusive’ and ‘discreet.’”

“Actually, I believe the word was ‘
discretion
,’” Azael corrects with a snarky grin. “But I guess discreet is close enough if you don’t care about accuracy.”

Botis tightens his hands into fists at his sides. I bet he’s imagining a thousand ways to smash Az into pulp. “The point being, an alliance was never mentioned. We work alone.”

“How impressive.” I roll my eyes at their tough act.

They think striking out on their own will win them some kind of favor in Hell, prove to Lucifer that they’re worthy of a higher status. I haven’t seen the mechanics of how the hierarchy in Hell operates yet, but I do know that Lucifer has been scraping together the best of the worst to comprise his cabinet of advisors. And I know Azael wants us to be named on that list more than anything, and I’m sure he thinks a success in Eden will guarantee us a spot. I also know Naamah and Botis want their names mentioned. But there’s only so much room—Gus and Valafar will only choose two of us.

I push my way past them, toting Azael behind me by his wrist and stare at the two paths. Right or left. Right left right left—I choose right.

“By the way,” I shout behind me just before we round a corner that will cut us off from their view, “good luck with that apple.”

The hedges swallow us whole.

––––––––

S
ILENCE SHATTERS EASILY
,
SO
I keep my voice in my head. Eden is peaceful and lush and... I understand why Heaven always referred to it as paradise. There are hundreds of different kinds of trees, from short and spindly to wide and tall. Some have leaves—large like fans or small like petals—and some have flowers. Most have some kind of fruit or nuts. Other trees have everything, their branches bowing down with the weight of it all.

The ground crunches under my feet, a quiet rhythm that I pretend is my heartbeat. It’s getting harder to pretend.

Azael steams behind me, still too angry to articulate anything other than a grunt every few steps. I wish he’d recognize the beauty around him, but he’s blind to everything but his rage. It is also getting harder to pretend with Azael—to make myself think he’s still his old self. He’s not him anymore; not really.

Denial has abandoned me for good.

There’s an arch woven with dozens of different flowers that smell sweet and golden, heavy with perfume. I reach up to touch the white petals as Azael hunches over to avoid them. And I realize that this is where we divide—me reaching up, stretching on my tiptoes, and him tightening his shoulders and stooping down. I shouldn’t be reaching anymore; I’m supposed to be satisfied with having fallen.

The thought startles my hand away from the flowers, and I follow behind him, turning over the implications of our divergence until I drop my worries to be pulled in by the weeds of the underbrush. I don’t have time to think like this.

Azael and I can’t be different. For him, I have to make sure we’re the same. Exactly the same.

At the next arch of flowers—orange with violet speckles across the pointed petals—we pass, I cringe away with him.

––––––––

I
T
’
S SO MUCH EASIER TO
track time on Earth. The seconds seem to slip away faster, like water slipping between fingers. Or maybe it’s going by at its normal pace and I’m just not used to its passage anymore. My time in Hell has robbed me of my internal timekeeper.

The sun slides across the sky, rising from my right and rolling farther left with every hour. By the time we reach the end of the thick hedges we’ve skirted through, the sun hangs directly overhead. My silhouette has disappeared into the ground. I settle for acting as Azael’s shadow, following as he leads us deep into the garden, nearing ever closer to its center.

A wide, pale patch of dirt turns wet and brown where it meets smooth river. The shade of the garden, with its resplendent array of different trees and forestry, grows more dense and dark on the other side of the water. There’s movement, too quick and quiet to be man. A dark, slinking cat prowls out from under the heavy branches.

Azael steps toward the river, his posture curving down to match that of the puma. Nothing moves—not a ripple across the river or a breeze through the branches above. The small birds I saw winging from tree to tree are hidden somewhere deep in their leafy hideouts. Even the tiny, delicate butterfly with glass wings stops fluttering on its flower.

Everything in the garden seems to hold its breath.

A call goes up, one brave bird piercing the silence, and everything springs into action again. Azael lunges across the expanse of the river toward the cat. Birds of every shape, size, and color explode from the trees and darken the sky. The puma barely has a second to react, shrinking back onto its hind legs before Azael grabs hold around its neck.

They roll. Claws, wings, scythe, tail. Black, blue, blood red. I watch, frozen on the opposite shore, shocked. The cat hisses, or maybe that’s Azael—it’s hard to separate the animal sounds they make. There’s a tearing noise, like skin being ripped apart, followed by a thick gurgle, and then suddenly, everything stills again.

Azael rises from the dead cat, smiling. His arms are slick with blood. He twirls the scythe around once before tucking it back into its designated strap.

I push myself forward, wiping whatever stunned look I’m sure to have twisting my features off of my face. The width of the river isn’t incredibly wide so I manage to clear it in one jump. I kneel in the soft ground and rest my hand on the great creature’s chest. Too much blood has spilled for him to live, but its heart beats feebly, as if it is in denial of its fate. I know how it feels.

“The point of this would be...?”

“Blood.” The word is overly sweet on his tongue, as if it excites him.

“Sacrificial virgin blood,” I nod, remembering the plan. We’ll curse the land, destroy the life of the thriving garden, and leave only the Tree of Knowledge, forbidden from man. To do that, we’ll need powerful magic.

“That’s an assumption,” he chuckles. “You don’t think there are any female pumas around?”

I stand up, gathering my skirt it my hands. The hem is heavy and wet with the blood. “It has nothing to do with sex, you idiot.
Virgin
refers to the blood. It has never been used in a sacrifice before, meaning the blood is pure.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“You have not.”

He ignores me, eyeing the pooling plasma around the cat. Carefully, he bends down, grabbing a couple of vials from of his boot. He uncaps them, one by one, and fills each tube with the thick liquid, taking his time. When he finishes, he has seven vials in total. “Think that will be enough?”

Seven is a powerful number in and of itself. It holds magic, evil. The seven circles of Hell, the seven powers, and the seven spots on Lucifer’s council...

I nod.

Azael stands again, pushing the vials into small loops between his glinting weapons. A dangerous grin carves his face in two. “And now the fun begins.”

––––––––

T
WILIGHT ON
E
ARTH USES TOO
many colors all at once. The sky can’t seem to make up its mind. There are shades of blue, from the bright pastel of day to a shade so dark it’s practically black. The color reminds me of the suits Azael used to wear in Heaven. Closer to the tops of the trees to the west, the clouds look orange, as if they’re on fire. The fiery color bruises to a dirty purple that only continues to deepen, as if blood is welling up behind the sky’s thin skin.

Eventually, the stars join us. They wink on, greeting me behind the blurry haze of thinning clouds. I’ve missed the stars so much that it almost hurts to see them again.

Azael and I decided to perch in the thick branches and leaves of a mango tree near the center of the garden to wait for signs of Adam. While we wait, I sample the strange green-red fruit. It’s surprisingly sweet and juicy, and I don’t think I’ve had anything so delicious. It’s probably just because I’m hungry and haven’t eaten for several days. My stomach has forgotten the taste of food. I offer a bite to Azael, but he pushes it away and the half-eaten mango falls to the dirty ground.

“Thanks for that,” I mumble.

I adjust my position in the crook of the tree, situating myself so I can see the great trunk of the Tree of Knowledge. It’s easily as wide as ten trees combined, thick with knots that give the branches a scrolling appearance. The leaves are as large as fans and in every shade of red, darker at the top and paler at the bottom. The fruit that hangs from its sturdy branches appear to glow from within, their amber light giving the tree a mystical feeling. Even from this distance, I feel like I’m being tugged toward the tree, as if it pulses with power. I wonder how man has resisted its pull for so long.

Just before the last light of day escapes from the groping fingers of night, the birds stop singing and we see Naamah and Botis again. They walk right under us, talking loudly, completely oblivious to our presence. When Azael sees Botis, he opens his mouth as if to yell something, but I stop him before whatever insult he’s concocted has a chance to reveal our hideaway.

“He’s by the tree again, Naamah. Center of the garden.”

I crane my neck, trying to get my first glimpse of man without jostling the branch too much. Unfortunately, there are too many trees and hedges in the way. All I can make out is the dark outline of a sickly sweet cherry tree.

“I can smell his curiosity. Spicy, like cinnamon,” Botis continues. “Where is it he thinks you went exactly?”

“To bathe,” answers Naamah’s breathy voice.

She takes a few steps closer to Botis and I can see her through the snarled branches below us. She is completely naked, her dark skin smooth and flawless under the pale light of the stars. Azael leans farther out on his branch, attempting to get a more complete view.

You have to be joking, Azael. A little nudity and you go weak,
I chastise him in my mind.
Utterly useless.

At least Botis is still dressed.

If she knew how easily she could disarm you, you’d be in ruins.

I’d let her
, Azael says.
I’d suffer damnation a million times to get a closer look at her.

You’re already damned, Azael. And I swear, if you lean any farther, you’ll fall out of this tree—

She
would
be great to land on.

I punch him in the shoulder to get him to quiet his thoughts.
I can’t hear what they’re saying!

“He’s been anticipating the arrival of his replacement. The angels, apparently, are more than eager to cover up the blemish that was Lilith.” She reaches back to smooth out her already perfect hair. “It seems I was expected. He was promised a new wife, and he believes that I was sent for him.”

“He thinks you are his wife!” Botis laughs. “An unholy union if ever there was one. And the guards—”

“Are as ignorant as ever. I saw Uriel guarding the East, flaming sword and all. But they’re faced against outside threats, not what is inside the garden.”

“Perfect.” He paces back and forth in front of Naamah, rolling his head, as if loosening his neck will help him think. “This man...
Adam
. What is he like?”

“He’s gullible, easily manipulated because he has had everything handed to him. Nothing is out of his reach, except for that single tree.”

“Then this will be simple. He will taste the fruit of the tree before the night is out.”

She shakes her head, her hair swinging between her bare shoulder blades. “I’m his
new
wife. If I were to try and persuade him to eat from the tree so soon, his suspicion would overthrow his curiosity. There is no need to rush. It’s not as if those twins will be an obstacle.” She pauses, smiles. “We will sully Adam. Though it may not be tonight, it will happen soon. Can’t you feel it?”

Botis tastes the air.

“He will fall fast, on my honor. But you must begin.”

Botis considers this. “He wouldn’t trust me as I am now.”

“No,” she agrees. “He’s not expecting another partner.”

“Then how do you propose I persuade him?”

“Perhaps as a snake,” she offers. “One of God’s creatures surely couldn’t lie to him.”

Azael lowers himself closer to the two, landing on a branch just below mine. The leaves shuffle.

Dammit, Azael!

Naamah and Botis pause their conversation and glance up at the tree. The shadows show us favor, though, and we remain hidden. After another moment of silence, their conversation resumes.

“Have you seen the others, Azale and Pen?” Botis asks.

That’s not how my name is pronounced
, Az fumes beneath me.

He remembered mine.

“No.” Naamah looks around. “They are probably lost somewhere.”

Botis laughs. “Children.”

“Go to the man now,” Naamah tells Botis. “Tell him the fruit will give him power, will answer his questions. He has so many stupid questions, and none of the angels have answered him. The Tree holds knowledge—the most dangerous temptation of all.”

“Fine,” Botis agrees. “Go, bathe.”

Naamah leaves him to himself, walking the way we came a few hours ago from the river. I wonder if the body of the puma is hidden well enough in the shrubbery for her to miss. Or maybe she won’t care. They don’t seem that concerned with what we’re doing anyway.

When she’s out of sight, Botis removes the shirt of his uniform. He shudders once, his red skin seeming to ripple across his body. He twists to his side, rears back his head, and two fangs protrude from his jaw. His tongue flicks in and out of his mouth as he slowly begins to shrink and transform. The dark leather of his uniform lands in a heap on the ground and a fat, muscled snake slithers out of the leg of his discarded pants.

The red serpent silently makes his way toward man.

“Disgusting,” Azael grimaces.