Read Raphael for Free Online Page B

with Damiano. He won the argument.”
    The delicate, carmine nostrils flared. “He died.”
    â€œHe won the argument,” repeated Raphael evenly.
    All the while he sparred with Lucifer, Raphael’s wings twitched, keeping time like a steady heartbeat, or like the rhythm of a song. His face was very quiet, but not with a stiffness which suggested he was concealing his feelings. Rather it seemed the angel’s feelings were so consonant with his form that they did not disarray his features. He glanced over to Saara on the table, and his head was hidden from Lucifer by a momentary upcurl of his right wing.
    He winked at her.
    At this little message of reassurance, Saara’s fine rage bid fair to desert her, and she felt her throat close in panic.
    To perish in combat with evil was one thing, but to die dragging with you one who was greater and older than you: one you had been asked to protect, as well…
    â€œGo away!” she hissed at Raphael again, and made ineffectual shooing gestures with her hands. “This is MY fight, spirit. You can only get hurt!”
    But Raphael was speaking to his brother. “What do you think to do with her, aside from burning off her braids?”
    â€œThink?” snorted Lucifer, returning to the table. He stared down at Saara and the air around her once again began to grow very warm. “I THINK, dear brother, that I will keep her a while for observation. That is the accepted course when one studies nature, isn’t it? In a jar, perhaps, with straw over the bottom. Of course it might get smelly, and I have no great enthusiasm for catching her natural food »»
    The Devil scratched his chin reflectively. “But then, after a suitable length of time—say a year, I will make a closer study. Of the inner organs. It will be interesting to see whether they really resemble more those of a bird or those of a bear.”
    As Lucifer spoke, Raphael’s wings expanded up and out sideways, as stiff and smooth-feathered as if they had been carved of stone.
    So would an angry hawk have displayed, protecting the fledglings in its nest. And, in fact, one of those stainless wings did block Saara from Lucifer’s sight or touch, while the other pushed Kadjebeen bodily out of his corner. The demon stopped to finger a white pinion appreciatively.
    It was a figure of Byzantine splendor that confronted the Devil. Pale glory circled Raphael’s head and his gown gleamed like the noonday sun. The four winds rose together and swirled about the chamber, lifting ancient dead ashes from the cracks between the flagstones and blowing them away.
    Lucifer seemed to have memories of what it meant when an archangel spread out his wings like that, and when his mild face went as hard as justice. For he stepped back, once and then again. His heel touched the low sill of the window ledge and Lucifer put a steadying hand out. A sneer covered his embarrassment.
    This was not the vanguard of the Almighty, sent to cast him once more from his heights. This was a single spirit, and one that had undergone change in the streams of earth. Lucifer had planned carefully, and he was in the house of his own power. He was not about to be intimidated by empty show. He was now bigger than Raphael in all but wings, and wings were not weapons of war. He advanced again and stood beside his brother, looking down. He laughed.
    Raphael spoke, and his voice cut through the forced and raucous laughter. “I am supposed to beg you to release her, Satan. That is obviously your plan. You, in turn, will refuse to do so.”
    Lucifer did not demur.
    â€œThere are two reasons,” said Raphael, “why you might have called me here to participate in this charade. Either you want me to know you are engaged in this cruelty, or you want something from me in exchange for foregoing your pleasure.
    â€œIf you only wanted an audience, then I tell you that you have failed. Now that you have