Read Online Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) by Debra Dunbar - Free Book Online
Authors: Debra Dunbar
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feared. Eventually, one day, one would escape them and all life as they knew it would cease. The end would be upon them.
“But why was he with the humans? Raphael claims in the report that he has no knowledge of the angel’s purpose, and his choir refuses to cooperate.”
Uriel closed her eyes and shook her head. “Maybe he was tempted to sin. Maybe even tempted to find a loving connection with a human woman and produce Nephilim. Maybe he just wanted to catch the last episode of Mad Men. Our rules are inflexible and many of the lesser angels chafe under the restrictions.”
Gabriel stiffened. He understood temptation better than most angels. That Uriel was so casual about the shortcomings of others never failed to irk him.
“But he’s dead. Why cover it up unless whatever he was doing is still ongoing and something that is forbidden? There is no shame in having a fallen angel in your choir, unless the entire choir knew of and supported his actions.”
He watched her closely, but she just appeared… tired.
“I don’t care. I just don’t care anymore. Is that wrong? I see how happy our eldest brother is with his little imp and I find myself wanting to throw away all I’ve held dear for the past two and a half million years and find one of my own.” She rubbed a hand over her brow. “Maybe I’m just weary. I’m old, and things are not like they used to be. There’s too much chaos in the universe to hold fast to a philosophy of strict order.”
“Now who is it that voices treasonous thoughts?” Gabriel said softly.
“If over half of Aaru thinks the same, than how is that treason?” she replied. “Perhaps it is a natural turn of events. A return to equilibrium.”
“We have equilibrium,” Gabriel snapped. “And I, for one, will not sully myself with humans or demons. Until someone can present me with a viable alternative, a way to combine myself with the necessary portion of spirit to produce offspring without actually having to join with one, then I will hold fast to my principals.”
Uriel shook her head, once again gazing down at the human children at play. “Then pray mightily, my brother. Pray mightily.”
7
I spent the next twenty-four hours trying to ignore my pain and force myself to convert energy into matter. Even though I couldn’t manage to change my form, if I could turn raw energy to fire or lightning, or produce an explosion, at least I’d have an offensive ability. I may be pond scum, but I’d be bad-ass pond scum. The biggest problem I seemed to be having was holding onto enough energy to produce a decent-sized result. I could spark and shock, rumble the floor below me, but nothing bigger. Raim had been able to directly convert large chunks of matter into energy and produce a lethal burst, although he couldn’t hold or store the energy. I couldn’t manage even that.
I heard the dungeon doors open with a sense of dread. Whatever was coming my way was going to be painful, and there was nothing I could do about it. The large group of feet approached my cell and stopped. I envisioned them staring at me, as if I were an animal at the zoo and they a bunch of second graders on a field trip.
“She needs to be moved to a different cell,” I heard the sorcerer say. “The floor here has been compromised—it won’t properly hold the magical enchantments to perform the rite.”
There was a series of mumbling, and a voice finally spoke. “How are we supposed to move her? I mean… look at her. She’s not exactly solid.”
“Well, how did you get her here? I’m sure she didn’t appear from nowhere into your dungeon.” Feille’s voice was impatient and sarcastic.
“A bucket. And a shovel.” I recognized the scout who’d brought me in.
“Then why are you standing here, staring at her? Get to it.”
There was a flurry of activity, and a few minutes later, my cell door opened. I heard the scrape of the shovel, and felt myself dumped into a bucket. It was all very
“But why was he with the humans? Raphael claims in the report that he has no knowledge of the angel’s purpose, and his choir refuses to cooperate.”
Uriel closed her eyes and shook her head. “Maybe he was tempted to sin. Maybe even tempted to find a loving connection with a human woman and produce Nephilim. Maybe he just wanted to catch the last episode of Mad Men. Our rules are inflexible and many of the lesser angels chafe under the restrictions.”
Gabriel stiffened. He understood temptation better than most angels. That Uriel was so casual about the shortcomings of others never failed to irk him.
“But he’s dead. Why cover it up unless whatever he was doing is still ongoing and something that is forbidden? There is no shame in having a fallen angel in your choir, unless the entire choir knew of and supported his actions.”
He watched her closely, but she just appeared… tired.
“I don’t care. I just don’t care anymore. Is that wrong? I see how happy our eldest brother is with his little imp and I find myself wanting to throw away all I’ve held dear for the past two and a half million years and find one of my own.” She rubbed a hand over her brow. “Maybe I’m just weary. I’m old, and things are not like they used to be. There’s too much chaos in the universe to hold fast to a philosophy of strict order.”
“Now who is it that voices treasonous thoughts?” Gabriel said softly.
“If over half of Aaru thinks the same, than how is that treason?” she replied. “Perhaps it is a natural turn of events. A return to equilibrium.”
“We have equilibrium,” Gabriel snapped. “And I, for one, will not sully myself with humans or demons. Until someone can present me with a viable alternative, a way to combine myself with the necessary portion of spirit to produce offspring without actually having to join with one, then I will hold fast to my principals.”
Uriel shook her head, once again gazing down at the human children at play. “Then pray mightily, my brother. Pray mightily.”
7
I spent the next twenty-four hours trying to ignore my pain and force myself to convert energy into matter. Even though I couldn’t manage to change my form, if I could turn raw energy to fire or lightning, or produce an explosion, at least I’d have an offensive ability. I may be pond scum, but I’d be bad-ass pond scum. The biggest problem I seemed to be having was holding onto enough energy to produce a decent-sized result. I could spark and shock, rumble the floor below me, but nothing bigger. Raim had been able to directly convert large chunks of matter into energy and produce a lethal burst, although he couldn’t hold or store the energy. I couldn’t manage even that.
I heard the dungeon doors open with a sense of dread. Whatever was coming my way was going to be painful, and there was nothing I could do about it. The large group of feet approached my cell and stopped. I envisioned them staring at me, as if I were an animal at the zoo and they a bunch of second graders on a field trip.
“She needs to be moved to a different cell,” I heard the sorcerer say. “The floor here has been compromised—it won’t properly hold the magical enchantments to perform the rite.”
There was a series of mumbling, and a voice finally spoke. “How are we supposed to move her? I mean… look at her. She’s not exactly solid.”
“Well, how did you get her here? I’m sure she didn’t appear from nowhere into your dungeon.” Feille’s voice was impatient and sarcastic.
“A bucket. And a shovel.” I recognized the scout who’d brought me in.
“Then why are you standing here, staring at her? Get to it.”
There was a flurry of activity, and a few minutes later, my cell door opened. I heard the scrape of the shovel, and felt myself dumped into a bucket. It was all very
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