“She has yet to tell me,” said Adonis with a hint of irritation.
Frankly, I was surprised Adonis didn’t just threaten to vaporize her or something.
Tanit smiled. “Sadeckrav Castle. Aereus has been securely protecting them, just in case any errant Bringers of Light surfaced to find them.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The horseman of war, right?”
“Yes,” said Tanit. “He’s wildly paranoid. He won’t admit that he has them, and no one knows where he’s keeping them. But my sources tell me he plundered them centuries ago, and he’s always kept them close by. They terrify him.”
Adonis tapped the edge of his glass. “He’s unhinged. But I think speaking to him is on our agenda anyway.”
“Why?” asked Kur. “He’s a lunatic.”
Adonis leaned forward. “True. But he’s a lunatic we’ll need on our side. If Johnny remembers what Ruby did to him, he and Kratos will be coming for us. And they could turn the horseman of war against us. We need to get to him first, to convince him that Kratos and Johnny are at risk of rebelling against the Heavenly Host. A lunatic ally is better than no ally at all.”
“Sounds promising,” I said. “What can you tell me about him? What are his weaknesses?”
Tanit knocked back a sip of her “wine.” “Weaknesses? Not sure that he has any.”
“Everyone has a weakness,” Adonis replied.
“What does he love?” I asked.
“Himself,” said Adonis emphatically. “That’s it.”
I nodded. “So he has an ego problem. Even more than the rest of you angels?”
Adonis glared at me. “Yes.”
“Where is this castle?” I asked.
“France.” Kur was frowning at Adonis’s injured wing. “I’m not sure our angel of death will make it there just yet.”
“It’s nearly healed,” Adonis growled.
I practically drained my wine. “So let me get this straight. We need to get some gemstones from the horseman of war, whose only weakness is his ego. And I need to use them to destroy the other horsemen, as well as the immortal, incorporeal celestial archangels known as the Heavenly Host. If I don’t, every living being on earth will die, and it will be my fault.”
“That about sums it up,” said Tanit. “The dirty fae catches on quickly.”
Adonis twirled his wineglass. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way…”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t want to come off like I have trust issues, but how do I know any of this is true? I’m supposed to put my faith in the word of one horseman and two shadow demons I’ve only just met. One of whom burned my underwear.”
Kur nearly spit out his wine. “She did what?”
Tanit’s forehead crinkled. “What’s the purpose of underwear, anyway? I’ve never understood that.”
Adonis let out a long sigh. “Since you’re so interested in reading material, Ruby, perhaps a reference book would help. I take it you were looking for one last night.”
“I guess it would be better than nothing.”
Adonis stared at Tanit, who grimaced. “I’ll get the books.”
I speared a bit of chicken on my fork. “Tell me more about the Heavenly Host.”
“Pricks,” growled Kur. “Bodiless, ancient pricks. They’re still angry that Azazeyl gave their precious Angelic language to humans a hundred thousand years ago. And for some reason, Adonis wants to be their god.”
Adonis folded his hands behind his head. “A hundred thousand years of torment hasn’t been enough for them. Not great at moving on, the Heavenly Host. They need someone new to lead them.”
“How many of them are there?”
Kur finally pulled his feet off the table. “A hundred million angels.”
My fists tightened. “A hundred what now?”
Adonis leaned closer. “Relax. We don’t need to kill all of them. We just need to weaken the ten archangels, and repel them from the earth. The Stones of Zahar can help us do that. Without the archangels leading them, the rest of the angels will be trapped in the celestial realm.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And then you just swoop in and take control up there. There are ten archangels and one of you. Do you really fancy your chances?”
“Against ten weakened, sickly archangels? I don’t have any doubt.” Adonis lifted his wineglass. “Leave this festering hole to the demons, the fae, and the humans, and I’ll rule the hordes in the heavens.”
“Festering hole. Cheers, mate. That’s my home you’re talking about.” Kur snatched another bottle of wine off the table and uncorked it with his teeth. He spat the cork onto the floor. “You did promise us you’d come back regularly, or I’d never agree to help you in the first place.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So you two are close, then? I hadn’t expected…” I wriggled uncomfortably in my chair. “Well, I never expected Adonis to have any friends, to be honest.”
A warm smile from Adonis. “I fell in with some shadow demons a few thousand years ago. Ancient protectors of the succubi.”
Kur’s eyes had taken on a slightly glazed look. “If Adonis hadn’t already told me you were a fake, you might have had the rare pleasure of watching me drop to my knees when you walked in the room.”
I looked down at my arms, half surprised to find I was still wearing the succubus glamour. “Oh, right. I can take this off now, I suppose.”
Kur shook his head. “Best not to. Adonis hates the fae. I hate humans. Succubi are about the only thing we can agree on.”
At the mention of Adonis’s fae-hatred, my stomach flipped. Did he hate me, under all his flirtatiousness? It didn’t seem that way.
Tanit broke the awkward silence by gliding back into the room, clutching two books to her chest. She moved with a disturbingly fluid motion, as though she were hovering just slightly off the floor. “One in cuneiform, and one in English so the young fae can read it.”
She dropped them on the table next to my plate with a loud thud. “There. Your literary proof.”
I stroked my fingertips over the black, leather-bound book on top, its surface etched in silver lettering: The Bringer of Light.
“This is the one I saw in your room.”
Kur rolled his eyes. “Of course you were in his bedroom.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I said sharply, cracking open the book. “I was dressed as a puritan witch judge.”
I turned the book’s yellowed pages, taking care not to rip them. The book was written in English, but it seemed to be Middle English. Still, as I scanned the text, I could figure out its meaning. The first section gave an account of everything I already knew—Azazeyl’s fall from heaven, his soul fracturing into seven pieces that became the seven earthly gods. Nyxobas, god of night. Emerazel, god of fire, and so on. Each god tormented by their punishment.
I turned the page, my pulse racing at an illustration of Azazeyl falling from the skies. Pain creased his beautiful features, and the wind appeared to tear at his wings.