She slipped toward the table, and knocked over the decanter of scented oils onto the rug, and then the candle with it.
“Master?” called a weak and weary but concerned voice from outside.
The flames roared to life. Milkilu flailed weakly, pleading for mercy with his eyes.
“Hunzuu?” Beletsunu answered with a fearful voice. She scurried from the room as the fire quickly spread. “Hunzuu! Hunzuu, come quickly! Please!”
Milkilu saw her disappear behind the smoke.
* * *
She wept outside the walls of Milkilu’s burning home, driven to her knees by her grief. Everyone saw. Everyone took pity.
Most gave her space. There was little to do for her just yet. The immediate concern was for salvage of property and livestock. Two servants had already perished in the flames, and still more stood at risk. Such a simple, stupid accident. Such a tragedy.
“You weep with talent.”
Beletsunu looked up with shock. Her good eye and her mouth conveyed her horror. The fire illuminated the night outside her home. Standing over her was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark, rich tunic.
The dancing lights of the fire allowed her to see his handsome face and his short, well-groomed beard. The dark pools of his eyes would surely have unsettled her, had she not already been so unsettled as she was.
“How dare you?” she gasped. “My husband is dead! Our faithful servants! You come here to mock me?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, her words punctuated with sobs, but her words carried.
“Excellent,” chuckled the stranger. “Most guilty women would immediately deny any implied accusation, but you know better than to show that you recognize it. You skip straight to indignation. Parry and attack. Very good indeed. Don’t worry. No one will hear us. Your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret?” Beletsunu asked, looking around to see if anyone could shield her from this cruel man’s taunting. No one seemed to notice them at all now.
“The knife hidden in your dress, for one. It still carries blood from your husband and his whore. You washed it from your hands quickly, but the knife is not yet fully cleaned. Should I go on?”
Beletsunu did not respond. She watched, waited, and listened.
“He had it coming,” the man continued. “Don’t worry. I will not expose you. I have waited some years for that one to die, and I appreciate the manner of his death. Killing the whore was a nice touch, though,” he smiled thoughtfully. “And the servants in the fire. I would not be able to speak to you openly had you not been so thorough. Though I have to say, it was the thoroughness that I appreciated most. You have talent.”
“You’re mad,” Beletsunu countered. “I am a small woman, and weak. I could not-“
“But you did, and we both know that you did,” he said, still smiling. “You are a small woman, and strong, and resourceful. And now a widow, all alone. Where will you go?”
Beletsunu’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“I am Baal,” the man told her as ashes began to fall around them. “I come to make you an offer.”
* * *
“Babe, are you okay?” Rachel asked.
Lorelei’s gaze drifted away. Regardless of her appearance, she did not feel fine at all. She felt Rachel’s hand on her knee, felt the angel’s pleading eyes on her, and eventually shook her head. “No.”
“They’re not gonna hurt you again,” Rachel assured her. “I won’t allow it. I won’t leave you.” The succubus let out a bitter, skeptical breath. “I mean it, Lorelei,” Rachel said. “I can’t and I won’t.”
Only then did Lorelei look up, her eyes taking in the room once more in a practical assessment. There were cameras, which surely had microphones. They were not likely set merely to record. Someone was probably watching her, ready to sound an alarm if she did anything remotely suspicious. Speaking openly seemed unwise.
She hung her head again, considering her options. Mortal men watched her every move… but they were only mortal men. She knew languages that died out centuries ago. No one else understood her, but an angel might.
“These walls have ears,” Lorelei murmured in Beletsunu’s native tongue.
Rachel blinked, not immediately understanding. Then the light bulb seemed to go off. “Right,” she said. “Sorry. Good plan. Shit, I haven’t heard that language in forever. Lorelei, I’m so sorry.”
“You saw me?” asked Lorelei, still keeping her voice low. “You saw what happened?”
“Yeah, a little,” nodded the angel. “It wasn’t just the rosary, or the guy. They aren’t special. There was another angel there, too. I separated them. Wish I had fucked him up a bit more, but he ran.”
“I thought I was safe from your kind,” said Lorelei. Her voice, even this low, did not come to her without effort.
“You’re supposed to be,” Rachel frowned. “I thought he’d never set foot in this city again. This shit is way deeper than I ever realized.”
“Who?”
The blonde did not answer immediately. Lorelei watched the brief conflict in Rachel’s eyes. “His name is Donald,” Rachel said. “He’s… he’s a guardian angel. For Hauser. And for Alex, before we all met. Yeah. Way too convenient, I know,” she added sourly as she saw Lorelei process the information.
“You told Alex that his guardian abandoned him.”
“He did. He popped the lock open on the chapel where Alex met us, but even so, he ran before the action started. He’s got his own bullshit justification for it. Nobody likes to admit cowardice, especially to themselves. The thing is, all this stuff with Alex and us… I think it blindsided Donald. He didn’t see any of it coming. He thought Alex was just a big old failure, but he’s clearly been investing in Hauser for a long time.”
Lorelei frowned. Her language didn’t have a proper term for that, so she repeated it in English: “Investing?”
Rachel sat back on her butt in front of Lorelei, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. It was rare that her young face held such a grim expression. “Guardian angels aren’t supposed to play favorites. They have rules, but they also have lots of autonomy. No guardian can be everywhere at once, so they have to make judgment calls and prioritize. Most of ‘em do it in good faith. Hell, normally I’d say that all of them work in good faith. They’re angels.
“But angels aren’t perfect. You know that. I know that. They fuckin’ hate to admit that, but it’s true. Anyway, if you look at one given guardian and you get real critical and start peeling away every little decision and look at it, sometimes you see patterns that don’t exactly indicate complete impartiality, y’know? Like a parent who plays favorites.” She gave a little shrug. “Vincent got that way before he took on dominion here. It‘s one of the things that drove us apart.
“Mortals make their own decisions. Angels give hints and leave signs and sometimes they whisper encouragement or warnings or whatnot, but in the end it’s supposed to be all about the mortal’s choices. Free will, right?” she asked with a smirk, and looked up to Lorelei’s steady, piercing gaze. Her smirk faded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Anyway. I think there’s a good chance that Donald’s been giving a lot more guidance to Hauser than he probably should.”
“How do you know this?” Lorelei asked, reverting to far older words again. “Did Donald confess it?”
“No. I couldn’t pin him down that long. I’m making an educated guess. I mean Hauser’s here, doing his thing, and he’s using a rosary, and…” Rachel’s words turned to a mumble. She chewed on her lip hesitantly. “And Donald has a pattern.”