26.2

In the Old Temple's Hall of Sacrifice, Zyrdicia put the finishing touches on the first human sacrifice she had made to any Sephiroth in many years on the Great Altar. She felt out of practice in intoning the ritual as she drew an ancient, bone-handled dagger across the throat of an unconscious dark-haired child.

Some things were impossible to forget how to do, and she supposed this was one of them. Once the blood spilled onto the altar, she knew she had performed the ritual correctly. The temperature in the room dropped suddenly. She knew the guest of honor had arrived.

The dark angel for whom the sacrifice was dedicated materialized slowly near the altar, his enormous black eyes fixated upon the offering. There was no amusement or softness in Andireon's expression this time. A summoning sacrifice was a deadly serious incantation, and it had been a very long time since this particular dark angel had received such attention. In fact, there was no record in the Temple of the Old Priests having ever offered any sacrifice to Andireon.

Zyrdicia had spent the day leafing through some of the Old Priest's ancient records, looking for information about Andireon. She was surprised at how little mention there was of this Sephiroth. There was no shrine in the temple dedicated to him. It was almost as though the Old Priests had purposefully ignored Andireon's existence.

She knew he was the youngest of the dark angels - the only one of them who didn't exist at the time of Creation. But there was remarkably little else she could find out about him in the Old Temple's archives. She would have to have Philip, her elfin scholar, do more research at some point, but for now, she found the mystery intriguing.

Andireon fell on the offering with exquisite grace and ripped the victim's throat out before lifting the gushing wound to his lips. With the blood, he sucked the soul from the offering with a deep, blood-curdling growl that could only come from a Lord of Hell.

Zyrdicia looked away, feeling her own blood hunger quickening insider her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the dangerous task at hand. If Andireon turned on her, she had to be prepared to dispatch him to Hell quickly. She hoped that wouldn't become necessary, though.

When Andireon was finished, he dropped the lifeless body on the floor and licked his crimson-stained lips, then each of his fingers fastidiously. She watched with curiosity at the effect the sacrifice had on the Sephiroth. He smiled with a wicked radiance now. He spread his wings out in a luxurious stretch. Then he cocked his head and regarded her for the briefest of instants.

The next moment, his form shifted. His wings vanished, and his body subtly transformed into a very close approximation of a human. She had seen him in this form once before, at a nightclub in Geshna, the night before she put Dirk in coma.

She tried to keep a neutral expression as she regarded the dark angel in human form. It was hard for her not to stare. She swallowed hard, then looked away again. There was something about Hell's bizarre aesthetic that just would not conform to ordinary matter. Even trapped in that matter, its dark radiance glittered with supernatural glamor. Andireon was more beautiful than any mortal could possibly be. Just like she was.

Zyrdicia understood that for a Sephiroth to adopt a the shape of a lower life-form was blasphemy. There was thus some irony about his decision to take this form, right after receiving a sacrifice - a perverse joke only a demon would understand.

Andireon's mischievous smile made her suspect that he was trying to amuse her. But she instead felt a twinge of sadness, as her eyes drifted back to him. He reminded her of her soul's ache for Azriok.

She said evenly, "You look better with wings."

"This form doesn't please you?"

Scowling a little, her words came reluctantly. "It does please me, actually."

Andireon continued to gaze at her, his beautiful, dark eyes sparkling from the shadow that seemed to cling to him, even in human form.

"I have questions for you," she said hesitantly.

"I have many answers for you."

She frowned, "Your magic is the same as mine. It's Zyrian."

"That is not a question. But it is an apt observation."

"When you let me taste your magic last night, you were revealing that fact to me very deliberately. Why did you want me to know that?"

Andireon's intense gaze did not waver. "Azriok concealed from you almost as much about us as he revealed to you. You aren't the only entity Zyr created from his soul."

She wrinkled her nose and wondered, "Are you and I siblings?"

Andireon's musical laughter filled the enormous room with its melody. He shook his head. "No, but we are both made of fragments of Zyr's soul."

She sighed heavily then, pondering that. "That makes us related somehow."

"Somehow," he agreed, his eyes still reflecting his amusement.

"And yet you still shot me with that fucking magical arrow from Cupid's bow?"

"I was bound by orders from Zyr," he said, offering an impossibly gorgeous smile.

"Was giving me some of your blood following orders, too?"

He shook his head gravely. "No. I no longer follow orders, princess. I cannot return to Hell after giving you the gift of my blood. That was a forbidden act. Azriok's fury would mean my destruction, if I return to Hell."

"You're a Sephiroth who's 'gone rogue'?" she smirked, certain he was lying.

"Obedience is certain to result in my own destruction in the Twilight. I think my chances of survival are better if I ally with you, rather than with Tenaebra's lords."

"Azriok's coming here soon. Your self-preservation isn't likely to last long in this world, if you've really rebelled."

The Sephiroth's smile faded. He said, "And you and I will both perish, if Azriok succeeds in escaping Hell. We must work together to prevent that."

She and Andireon stared at each other silently then. She found his human form distracting. It was very hard to think as she looked at him. She stammered, "Are you planning on staying in mortal form?"

"I take the form only when it suits me."

"It's perverse to see one of you pretending to be mortal."

"Some of us expressed a similar sentiment when Zyr created you."

She rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to laugh. She found herself enjoying Andireon's company more and more. Their eyes locked for what seemed like a long time to her. Finally she asked, "When mortals see you, are they drawn to you in this form?"

"I often use a subtle magic that allows me to be seen and yet not noticed by them."

"Will the magic work on me so that I don't notice you?"

"I have many ways of masking my presence from you. It is a trivial matter to observe you without being noticed by you."

"What about the hierarchy? Doesn't my magic outrank yours now that I've got part of Azriok's soul?" she asked. She suspected Andireon was at the bottom of Hell's Sephiroth hierarchy, due to his youth in relation to the other Sephiroth.

"If only you knew how to use the merest fraction of all the magic now in your possession," he mocked.

It was a deflection. She knew he didn't want to give her a direct answer. She pressed, "Do you have to obey me, since I have part of Azriok's soul?"

Something in the angel's expression darkened slightly, but his amused smile was undiminished. "I have not tried refusing you anything. I have yet to test your power."

"I was able to command Astaroth. He was sure he couldn't refuse me. Maybe he knew something you don't."

The human-looking dark angel smirked playfully and shook his head slowly. "Astaroth assumed he had to let you command him like a Djinn released from a magic bottle. It was terribly amusing to watch him doing your bidding. He did not try to resist your will because he feared it would be perceived by Azriok as a challenge to Azriok's own power."

"Shouldn't you fear Azriok's wrath, too?"

"By giving you my blood, I did far more to earn Azriok's wrath. As I have no plans to return to Hell, Azriok's anger is no deterrent for me."

"So you intend to resist my commands?"

"It depends whether your wishes please me." His smile faded suddenly. He added in a darker tone, "But do not assume I am a Djinn. I am much more dangerous than a Djinn - as you discovered last night, you must be careful what you wish for."

"I want to drink more of your blood." The request was out of her mouth before she realized it. Her heart raced at the thought of it - an odd mixture of fear and desire. What Andireon had allowed her to do was beyond wrong - and she couldn't help but want to do it again.

Andireon laughed as though the request were the most delightful thing she could have said. "That wish does amuse me. I doubt it will give you what want when I'm in this form. Shall I change for you, or is it human blood you are craving, princess?"

"Change." She could scarcely draw breath as she began anticipating the taste of the magic. She suddenly wanted it desperately. She opened her hand and the bone-handled ceremonial knife on the altar flew into her grip.

In an instant, Andireon was again in his angelic form - almost. He did not transform into his full height. He retained very tall human proportions. His skin became translucent white, his eyes darkened into pools of glittering blackness with purple flecks. He twitched his enormous black wings, as though to remind her that they were there. He was achingly beautiful.

"You really do look better with wings," she murmured. "And you're a lot less imposing at this height."

Andireon's glanced at the knife in her hand. A look of annoyance crossed his countenance. "You'll have to do better than that weapon. Steel from this world won't pierce my skin."

She dropped the sacrificial knife and called her own magical, hell-forged dagger from the nether space where she hid it. A smaller twin of her sword, she knew it would do the job. He reached his alabaster hand toward her, palm up in slow, almost seductive, movement. She caught it, carefully avoiding the long, razor-sharp, black nails adorning his fingertips. The hand was icy and hard. It was like holding a piece of statuary.

Without hesitation, she brought the hell-forged blade across his wrist, cutting deeply. He did not so much as flinch. He watched curiously as black fluid oozed to the surface of his skin, darkening the perfect white surface. The blood's blackness absorbed all light that touched it - not entirely unlike the Sephiroth's eyes. When the fluid touched the air, it seemed to become nearly gaseous. Dark, magical tendrils floated out - and then reached toward Zyrdicia. She touched her tongue to it tentatively, tasting it.

Andireon's other arm moved around her. He pulled her effortlessly against his chest with enormous strength. He held her against his torso. She was unable to move. But she didn't mind. All that mattered at this instant was the taste of the blackest of magic coursing from his open vein into her. She sucked eagerly at the wound, wishing she had cut him more deeply.

Sensations of euphoria, omnipotence, and ecstasy began to come in throbbing waves, as though driven by a supernatural, massive heartbeat at the center of the universe. It was the world's most perfect high. This was what her soul had been questing for every time she had ever experienced blood hunger. But human blood couldn't satisfy her. Only Sephiroth blood could quench the infernal craving. She hadn't realized what it was that she needed, until Andireon had let her taste it.

Andireon pulled his wrist away forcefully. She tried to pull it back toward her mouth but found her hands pinned. And still she struggled. She wanted more.

His lips near her ear, he purred, "Do you remember the pain you experienced when your mortal flesh was nearly ripped asunder by the amount of magic Azriok gave you from his soul?"

She stopped struggling at the mention of that awful memory.

"If I allow you to overtax your flesh, you will suffer. You've suffered quite enough, haven't you?"

"Yes," she answered, defeated. Still pressed against his icy body, she stared up into the dark depths of his eyes. She realized she was shivering. It wasn't the temperature of his body that was causing it. He had allowed her more of his blood than he had the first time. The dark magic coursing through her veins had caused her internal body temperature to plummet.

His perfect, angelic brow furrowed slightly. "Your flesh is such a nuisance. It must be nearly unbearable to have it confine you thus."

She murmured darkly, "I'm made of pieces that don't fit together. That's the whole point of me."

"No, precious. The point of you is that you render the very idea of pieces fitting together obsolete. You assimilate the pieces' essence and transform them. Like molten metal."

He paused then added, "But your flesh confines your possibilities. Like a mold holding the molten metal. I think you'll be happier when you outgrow the need for it."

"How do I do that?"

"You'll have to learn, if you are to survive the Twilight. You cannot defeat Azriok if you are trapped in a flesh cage. It makes too soft a target for us." He dragged his cold lips along her neck, grazing her skin with his fangs but drawing no blood.

She shuddered at the sensation, wishing he would bite her. She felt warmth flicker though her body. Tongues of purple flames engulfed both their bodies. She noticed for the first time that they were literally standing in a mass of purple Hellfire. The magical flames that would have incinerated any living thing merely felt pleasantly warm to her. She was instantly grateful to the dark angel for invoking the soothing magical fire.

She sighed, surprised at the contentment she felt. She let her cheek fall against the dark angel's cold neck. She dared to hope she might finally have an ally in the war in Hell. Andireon's wings came forward, cradling her. She swallowed, aware of the softness of his wings' feathers on her skin. She suddenly remembered that being wrapped in the embrace of angel wings was one of her favorite sensations.

She struggled to remind herself that he was dangerous, and he was toying with her and had some grisly endgame in mind. But that only heightened the thrill of the embrace. She was enthralled - and it had everything to do with the sameness of their magic.

Trying to distract herself from her growing desire to feel more of him, she asked, "How do I close the portal I opened to Hell in Karteia?"

"You ripped a hole in the fabric of the cosmos that grows ever wider. We can place impediments in the way of it, and slow Azriok's passage between worlds. But I am not yet aware of how to weave the fabric back together." She heard a note of concern in Andireon's voice. It made her skin crawl.

A tense silence followed. Finally, Andireon said, "If you are finished with your questions for the evening, I have one for you."

"What could you possibly want to know about me that you don't already know?"

"Has Azriok's defeat of your first attempt to procreate ended your quest to spawn a soul?"

Zyrdicia blinked in surprise. "I-um," she stammered before murmuring, "I don't know." Procreating with mortals was the farthest thought from her mind tonight. She couldn't imagine anything being less appealing to her at this moment. With the magic of Andireon's blood still coursing through her, wrapped in the velvety embrace of his black wings, she couldn't imagine ever desiring a mortal partner again.

Sneering, she thought out loud, "I suppose I could put Dirk in a magical trance and force him to--" She broke off when she saw Andireon's disapproving expression.

"You cannot replicate the magic of Zyr's soul through a mere act of human biology." The look in his eyes reminded her that despite his fascination with humans, he still saw them as an inferior species. He urged, "Recall the magic that was unleashed the moment you conceived previously."

Zyrdicia frowned, remembering the violence and dark energy of that night. She was surprised how empty she felt now, reflecting on it. It already seemed like a lifetime ago. The memory of it did not fill her with pain and regret - in fact, she felt nothing except chagrin. It was almost impossible to believe now that she had once felt those emotions. It was deeply embarrassing. She felt a little uncomfortable with the notion that Andireon had been observing that night.

He pressed, "The mortal in Karteia is not the only Chosen."

"Zyr revealed their identities to you so that you can shoot Cupid's arrows into them," she said dully, realizing the fact without any enthusiasm.

"The next of the Chosen is here in Lyr," he said in a gentle tone.

Zyrdicia felt no excitement in hearing this information. She wasn't interested in starting another doomed mortal relationship. She groaned at the thought of having another of those damned arrows in her chest. "Are you planning to shoot me with one of Cupid's arrows again?"

"I already promised you that I would not. Have you forgotten?"

"I don't believe you."

"My orders to target with that weapon have already been fulfilled. Whom I wound with Cupid's arrows is now purely a matter of my own choice."

"I'm very serious about my promise that I will find a way to send you back to Hell and trap you there if you ever shoot one of those arrows at me again."

He lifted her chin with his icy fingers and stared into her eyes. She felt her stomach knot at the intensity of his gaze. She knew he could hear her heart racing. Their lips were mere inches apart.

His mouth quirked in amusement. "Shall I issue an Edict that you shall never fall in love again?"

She arched a brow. He was flirting. She was sure of it. That realization left her momentarily breathless. Her heart continued pounding in her ears. She wanted to taste the dark angel's kiss. She murmured, "Edicts are overrated. Look at what happened with Azriok's."

"Taking a piece of his soul allowed you to transgress his Edict."

"What if I take a piece of yours?" she whispered seductively.

"You and I are already made from the same soul."

From human lips, it would have sounded terribly romantic. From a Sephiroth, it caused her brain to reel. She murmured, "I'm pretty sure your Edict wouldn't protect me if Azriok's didn't. So I think you aren't really offering me anything."

Andireon laughed again, pulling slightly away from her and breaking the intensity of the connection she'd felt to him. Then he pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment. "Then you and I will have to trust each other. I have no more assurance that your temper will not cause you to try to slay me in this world than you have that I won't leave another of Cupid's arrows in your heart."

She flashed him a smile of perfect, angelic innocence. "That isn't true. You do have some assurance. I really like the taste of your blood."

"I find you more amusing when you are not be distracted by Seraphim attachment to mortals. And so we both have an interest to protect."

"Why are you telling me about the Chosen in Lyr, if you don't want me distracted?"

"He's a toy for us to play with. And possibly useful in defeating Azriok."

She liked the sound of "us" in his sentence. That meant he was planning to stay close. She needed this dark angel's company right now. More than that, she wanted it. "Is the Chosen Lyrian?" she asked, trying to keep her thoughts to herself.

"By birth. But now he is a visitor."

"From where?"

"A mortal city called Nevehna."

"How will I know who he is?"

"You cannot overlook him. We have been generous in our gifts to him. But he is damaged."

"Damaged how?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Azriok's surrogates convinced this mortal to sell his soul."

"Then he's useless," Zyrdicia said indifferently. The lack of a soul would render this stranger incapable of procreation.

"His soul is now in Azriok's possession."

"What a surprise."

Andireon stared at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to make an important logical connection. She was quiet then, her brain working to figure out what he wanted her to discover.

Finally, she frowned and asked, "What if he were possessed by another soul?"

A flicker of interest passed through Andireon's black eyes. "But the question is whose soul."

"Does it matter?"

"You need to replace the trace of dark magic Zyr hid within the Chosen's soul in order to accomplish what you seek, princess." From the intensity of his expression, she knew she was close to whatever the puzzle's solution was.

And then she saw the solution. Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth opened silently. Her reaction provoked another burst of his musical laughter.

At that moment, she realized Andireon had not been lying about his rebellion against Zyr and Azriok. He was quite possibly the most dangerous Sephiroth of them all.