Page 104 of The Death Wish

‘Nothing,’ Pitch shouted.

And was once again ignored.

‘Nephilim,’ Lucifer said. ‘At least…he was, but has been in Izanami’s employ a long while. Who is to say what he is now, but it was strong enough to bring down –’

‘A Nephilim dares step foot inside this Sanctuary?’ The angel clacked his heels to where Lucifer sat and grabbed at his collar. ‘You brought a child of Samyaza here, to the very shore of Blood Lake, where their sire’s halo holds the power?’

Lucifer glowered and pulled his collar free before he answered. ‘If not for him, then you would have no simurgh. Besides, I did not know of Silas’s truth until he and Vassago were too infatuated to dare try to separate them.’

‘Dare to try? You are the King of Daemonkind,’ Seraphiel shouted in disbelief. ‘Lucifer does not try. Hedoes. You should have forced the separation.’

Pitch made the mistake of laughing. Every muscle protested, and the simurgh hissed a thin sliver of tongue from its golden beak.

‘That did not work out for me as I had intended. Luckily so,’ Lucifer replied. ‘Silas found his way to Vassago regardless, and is all the stronger for it.’

‘All the more reason he must be removed from here.’ The angel returned to his rough twisting of his hair. ‘If he were to fall under the influence of the Blight –’

Lucifer shook his head. ‘He has withstood it thus far –’

‘That foul creature has never been so close to the halo, that which belonged to his sire!’ Seraphiel’s shout had the simurgh flexing its talons. Pitch swore at the creature, trying to shift from beneath it. ‘Do you know what a danger he could become, if the halo rules him? He must go, Luci. He must be banished from here.’

Pitch stilled. Seraphiel was right. How had he been so fucking thoughtless?Blood Lake is a graveyard, Silas had once said, claiming that good enough reason he should join Pitch on the quest. But it was not just any graveyard; it was his sire’s final resting place; where a remnant of the power of the Watcher King remained.

Silas was strong, Pitch knew that better than Lucifer. But strong was not invincible.

Pitch’s doubts about ending the ankou’s journey here, evaporated.

‘Alright,’ Lucifer continued. ‘So, you would risk opening the entrance to the Sanctuary once more to banish him? What if Michael waits for just such a moment?’

Pitch felt his lips part, felt the knife-tips of the words in his throat. He heard himself speak as though watching from the lofty peaks of Arcadia.

‘You are right, Seraphiel,’ he said. ‘Silas Mercer is a danger to us. We should never have brought him here.’ He refused to look at Lucifer, in case it made him falter. ‘If you cannot banish him, then restrain him. But do what you have to, to keep him from the lake.’

The simurgh twisted its long neck to regard him, raising the crest atop its crown. A blink, a flash of topaz, feathers ruffling.

‘You wish the ankou gone?’ Lucifer spoke.

‘Far away preferably, or at least very much hindered.’

‘Are you sure of this? Do you not need him?’

‘Yes. I fucking need him. Which is why I cannot be distracted by him in the lake.’ Pitch dropped back onto the metal, eyes fixed on the swirls of the runes overhead. He lifted his arm to point; it was like moving through syrup. ‘Can you seal him into a room with some of those? Drug him with pixie dust? Perhaps the Child has fae magick for that, if she cannot aid you with the simurgh.’

He despised the sound of his own voice, the air he used to make his lungs work the words free, but Pitch had never been so clear-headed. Silas must stay.

What a horror it would be to see him taken over by Samyaza; a nightmare Pitch could never forgive himself for. And who better than Silas to be here and deal with the teratisms, when Pitch’s attempts at destroying the halo likely failed?

‘Yes, yes.’ Seraphiel moved up beside the table, and presented his arm to the simurgh. ‘Go, speak with Jacquetta. I am busy here.’

The simurgh moved its gem-shone gaze between Seraphiel and Pitch. It lowered its head, touching the tip of its beak to Pitch’s chest.

‘I said, come to me. Now.’ Seraphiel bristled with impatience.

Pitch tilted his hand, letting his fingers brush at the underside of a wing. ‘Go on then. Let him fix you the best he can, so we won’t be the laughingstock of this blasted lake.’

The simurgh, the wildness, the beast who’d never listened to a damned command in all the time it had coveted his depths, now listened to Pitch well; stepping onto the angel’s arm, like a hawk ready for the hunt. Its wings flared as Seraphiel turned abruptly and moved away.

Lucifer offered Pitch a hand as he struggled to rise. After a momentary pause, he accepted the aid of the king, and dragged himself off the bench. His feet pained with pins and needles.