I’d never felt so fucking on edge.

The angels were stretched thin, trying to hold the demon army in one geographic area. Gregory and the other archangels debated whether to exert the significant energy it would take to close down the other gates, or keep their reserve power levels up and hope the few Grigori left could safeguard the portals from Hel. Pretty much every shifter was heading west to help. Gabe had even asked the humans for their assistance.

And the vampires…well, the vampires basically gave us a giant fuck-you. I wasn’t surprised.

Doriel and what remained of her household were back in Hel. I’d barely deposited her on a comfy couch before she was giving orders, demanding audiences with other Ancients, and struggling to heal herself as best as she could. I assured her that she could be of more use to me gaining support and loyalty for my side, than killing herself trying to fight while so injured.

And then I’d returned to this impromptu meeting in my dining room, with my household in the guest house, playing rock-paper-scissors over who would be lucky enough have the few remaining magical weapons in the next fight.

I plopped the map down on the dining room table as the archangels gathered around it. This wasn’t technically a Ruling Council meeting, so Asta wasn’t here and Nyalla was upstairs with Lux, but no force in the universe could apparently keep Ahia from somewhere she wanted to be. The angel stood just behind Raphael, peering at the map over his shoulder, her arm around his waist and hand on his hip. It was sweet how she was there for him, supporting him during what might end up being a losing battle for us.

“Here. Here. And Here.” I drew in the area with a crayon where the fake Samael and his army focused their forces. My new awareness, spotty though it may be, had proven very useful in knowing exactly where groups of demons were clustered, and where the imposter had put the Ancients that were supporting him. The werewolves in Alaska had held the northern borders, several families of black bear shifters had held the demons to the California, Washington, and Oregon state line, the big cat, raptor, and grizzly shifters had assisted the angels in ensuring the demons didn’t advance into Arizona or past the U.S. border with Mexico. And angels were still holding Los Angeles north to San Francisco.

“That’s a big area to defend, and I worry with his increased forces, he’ll hit us in multiple locations, forcing us to keep our numbers scattered across a large border,” Gabriel commented. “The army is thirty thousand?”

I nodded. “Give or take a few. They’re mostly in the large cities, but I can sense sizable units near the mountain passes, and individual demons acting as scouts to check how tightly we’re policing the perimeter.”

“What about the humans?” Rafi asked.

“The U.S. military has offered us armed troops, but they’re reluctant to utilize bombs or any sort of aerial attack when the demons are in areas still heavily populated with humans,” Gabe responded.

“If the troops can get in, and the humans living there can fight back, it would help,” Ahia commented.

I nodded. “I sent Nils and Terrelle with one of Gabe’s choir to provide information to the human military on how to best fight against the demons. This imposter is an arrogant ass, and he’s not going to worry about humans sneaking in, even if they’re carrying guns. He won’t see them as a threat. The goal is for them to get into the cities and hunt down demons one at a time, while prioritizing human safety and evacuation.”

“Their focus is basically on getting the humans out of the way, so we can go in and take care of the larger situation.” Uriel grimaced. “Or if we fail, they can go in with more serious weaponry and take charge of the situation.”

I knew as well as everyone else that if it came to that, it would mean the angels were all dead, and the humans would have no one but themselves to count on in a defense against the demons. I’d told Nils to let them know what fake-Samael’s plans were, that if we failed and they were on their own, they shouldn’t hold back.

“We’d need more angels,” Gregory mused. “We need an army of angels who are competent in fighting in physical form, which is only the remaining Grigori and a few thousand previous Grigori, and some angels who before now have not been out of Aaru for two to three thousand years. Bringing in others will just be throwing them to their deaths.”

“If we don’t win this thing, they’ll be slaughtered anyway,” Gabe pointed out.

“We’ll win,” I told him, although I was not very confident in my assertion.

Raphael grimaced. “That gives us four thousand against thirty thousand. Plus Sam’s demon army and the shifters, we’ll have seven or possibly eight thousand against thirty thousand.”

“He might abandon the idea of a traditional battle for something more scattershot,” Uriel pointed out. “They’re spread out, large groups in key cities and others here and there to test our lines and report back. And we still need to decide whether we need to close the gates or not.”

“I think we need to close them,” Raphael said. “Lock him down to just the one in Seattle. That way he doesn’t hit us when our back is turned by bringing another ten thousand demons through Copenhagen or somewhere.”

Everyone stared soberly at the map.

“That’s a lot of energy to expend,” Gregory commented. “He’s already got thirty thousand here. Does he truly have more to call on from Hel? Exactly how many demons could we expect if he decides to mobilize every single one of his supporters?”

I swallowed hard, ashamed that I had so little control over my own people. “Hel has roughly a hundred thousand demons, give or take. Many of those are Lows, and quite a few are uninterested in fighting. Sex demons, greed demons, gormands—they’ll be happy to swoop in after the fighting to loot, but most of them don’t get their jollies off on battle. And my intel says he’s got all the Ancients supporting him that he’s gonna get. The others are taking a wait-and-see approach and are likely to continue to hold back. So I’d say he might have no more than a few thousand extra demons he could call upon.”

“Then let’s leave the gates open but guarded,” Gabriel said. “I’ll ask the humans for military support in those locations to provide assistance to the Grigori.”

“How the fuck is he keeping all of them under his control? How is he making them follow his rules?” Ahia asked. “The demons, I mean. Five minutes out on their own in the countryside and I’d think they’d be abandoning their post and going off to do whatever they want.”

I squirmed. “Demons will follow a powerful leader. It takes someone very powerful, but it’s happened in the past. This guy is an Ancient, and although he’s a complete dick, he is a powerful dick.”

“This Ancient is claiming to be Samael,” Gregory added softly.

The room fell silent at his words.

“Is he?” Ahia held Raphael tighter. “Is it Samael?”

“No,” I announced. “It’s not. I’ve been up close and personal with this guy twice, and while he is copying Samael’s favored corporeal form as well as his energy signature, it’s not him.”

“How sure are we that it’s not Samael,” Uriel asked. “You don’t know him. You wouldn’t recognize him like we would. If Samael is alive and wanted revenge, now would be the perfect opportunity. We’re out of Aaru. We’re vulnerable.”

“But he didn’t retake Aaru,” Ahia pointed out with a glance my way. “Sam said some other Ancient did. If your brother was alive, wouldn’t that have been his first goal? Grab the homeland first. Kill all his rivals second.”

“Kill his siblings, third?” Raphael asked. “I hate to think that’s what Samael has become.”

“Two-and-a-half-million years,” Gabe reminded him. “And banished to Hel. That would change any angel.”

“That’s why it’s not him,” Gregory assured them all. “The Iblis took a portion of his spirit-being in LA, and while the energy signature is nearly identical to Samael’s it’s too perfect a copy. I would expect changes not just in his behavior, but in his energy as well. So long outside of Aaru…it degrades an angel’s abilities. It leaves an indelible mark on their spirit-being.”

“But Samael wasn’t just any angel,” Raphael argued. “What if you’re wrong and it’s him. I can’t…I can’t fight him. I won’t lift my sword against him. Even if my own life were to be forfeit, I could never raise my hand against my own brother.”

Gregory winced.

“It’s not Samael,” I told Rafi. “You’ll have to trust me on this, all of you will have to trust me. It’s not Samael. I am one hundred percent positive on that.”

Raphael shook his head. “Uri is right. You didn’t know him. You’ve never met him. I can’t trust that you would recognize him if you saw him. Honestly, I can’t even trust that I would recognize him anymore.”

“It’s. Not. Him,” I insisted. I didn’t want to reveal to Rafi and his brothers that the reason I was so sure was that I’d faced the real Samael. And there was no doubt in my mind that Gimlet was the real Samael. No one could fake that well. No one.

“If Rafi needs to confine his and his choir’s fighting to the fringes, among the demons, then I’m okay with that.” Uriel sighed. “I understand. I believe the Iblis, but honestly if I came face-to-face with this Ancient, and he appeared convincing enough, I’m not sure I could strike the blow either.”

Gregory hadn’t held back two-and-a-half-million years ago. He’d nearly killed his brother in a dishonorable move. He’d done what none of his siblings would have stooped to do. I could feel his pain and his shame over this, and it hurt me just as much as it hurt him.

“I’ll do it,” I told them. “You all keep them surrounded and contained, moving in and herding them together, and I’ll command the forces that take on where this imposter is held up. I’ll be the one to face him. I’ll be the one to take him out.”

“No, Cockroach. I will.” A muscle in Gregory’s jaw twitched, but his voice remained cool and unaffected. “It’s an imposter, and this is just another foe to defeat.”

“But if we’re wrong?” Raphael faced his brother.

“If we’re wrong and it’s Samael, then it’s my responsibility to set this right. I put this all in motion. I’m the one he wants revenge on. I can’t let him destroy this whole world and everything in it. I’ll face him. Imposter or not, I’ll be the one to kill him.”

“No.” Even I was surprised at the firmness in my voice. “I’m the Iblis. Whoever this is, he is usurping my right. He has formed an army in defiance of my rule, and that I cannot allow. He will answer to me. And he is not Samael, so everyone get that right out of your heads.”

Everyone blinked at me.

“Usurp? What the fuck does usurp even mean?” Ahia asked.

Fuck if I knew. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not Samael. He doesn’t have the sword, he doesn’t have the support of more than a dozen Ancients. Out of all of Hel, he’s only managed to mobilize thirty thousand. What does that tell you?”

It told me that he was vulnerable. Not only did he lack the demon-power to expand his reach, but he was probably right now struggling to keep everyone committed and in-line, obeying his orders.

The imposter wasn’t the Iblis, but I was.

“We need to hit these guys hard and hit them now,” I told the other angels. “We took LA. We had him hemmed in and had killed enough of his army that he needed to call every demon he could to come to his rescue. There’s got to be gossip about him right now, about how he’s not as powerful as everyone thought. There will be doubts about his ability to deliver on what he’s promising. And unlike the Ancients, none of these demons really give a shit what name he’s going by. The majority of Hel won’t even follow him.”

“The majority of Hel won’t follow you,” Gabriel helpfully pointed out. “I don’t think you could get thirty thousand to follow you, so in that sense he’s more of an Iblis than you are. And it’s not like that sword listens to you or appears every time you want it to.”

“Fuck you,” I told the angel. “So the real Samael was leading a hundred thousand angels at less than a thousand years old, was he? And before you start that ‘just an imp with a sword’ bullshit, let me tell you that I’ve killed angels and I’ve killed Ancients. I’ve devoured half a mountainside and recreated it. Even depleted, I had enough energy within me to blow up a fucking island and pulverize everything on it. I’m an Angel of Chaos. I’m the Iblis. I’ll rule Hel and the demons in my own way, not as some motherfucking copy of your shitty loser of a brother. Get me close enough to this bastard and I’ll kill him, no matter how many demons he has in his so-called army.”

They all stared at me in surprise. After a few seconds I heard Gregory chuckle.

“All right then, Cockroach. This is your show. You tell us what to do and we’ll do it. For the rest of this war, the Iblis is our leader.”

Yes. Damn right I was.

I should have been planning and plotting, organizing my household, and preparing for the battle ahead. Instead I was sitting on the couch with Lux, drinking a beer and watching 300. Yeah, it was violent and Nyalla would have a fit that I was letting Lux watch it, but I was hoping to get some pointers on successful battle strategy before I faced these demons once more.

“Think I should go in half-naked?” I asked Lux.

He shook his head and took another swig of beer.

“Yeah, doesn’t look like the Spartans are doing all that well, which is surprising. I’d figured their glistening abs would have been enough to drop the enemy to their knees.”

This movie choice hadn’t been my best idea. The Spartans were grossly outnumbered, just as we were. And in spite of their plucky bravado and naked fighting style, they were going to lose. Just as we probably were. I turned the channel to a Bugs Bunny cartoon and got up to get another beer, nearly pissing myself to see Gimlet standing behind the couch. He wasn’t his usual Low self, instead assuming his gorgeous, Samael form.

“Fuck! Knock, or cough or something, damn it!”

Lux turned around on the sofa. “Samael.”

Seriously? How long had my kid known?

He ignored Lux and folded his arms across his chest, regarding me coolly. “So you’ll rule Hel and the demons in your own way, not as some motherfucking copy of their shitty loser of a brother?”

I shrugged. “Eavesdrop, and you’ll hear some unpleasant stuff. Yes, I’ll rule Hel my own way. And yes, you’re a shitty loser.” I edged past him and made my way into the kitchen, hearing him follow.

I pulled out two beers, turned to hand him one, and saw him pick up one of the amulets that were on the counter. I’d kept them in the kitchen, out of Low hands until the battle because I didn’t want anyone blowing their heads off.

“You give up on the sword?” he asked. “Planning on throwing human-style magical weapons at Luziel and his army instead?”

Luziel. I drew a blank at the name but vowed to run it by Gregory later. I was glad Samael had finally revealed the identity of the imposter. If I believed him, that is. For all I knew, this could be some random Ancient he was going to throw under the bus just for kicks.

“The sorcerer shit is for the Lows. I might be an imp, but I’m not planning on personally relying on human magic to win this war.”

“Sorcerer shit.” He shook his head and set the amulet back down, taking one of the beers from me. “It’s really not magic. It’s all just a focus, you know. Those amulets, and special symbols, and gems, and stuff? None of that matters. It’s what the spirit imbues them with that matters.”

“Sorcerers are human. They’re not beings of spirit like we are,” I reminded him.

He actually looked disappointed at my comment. “What do you think the gifts of Aaru are? Their spirit-beings are just tied tightly to their corporeal form, where ours are not. If they didn’t die so damned quickly, they’d be just as powerful as we are. They’re forever too young to fully realize their powers, which is why they use a focus in their magic.”

I snorted. “We don’t do what they do. I’ve used human and elven magic to gain an edge in a fight, and these items are more than just a focus.”

“They’re just a focus,” he insisted. “Human and elves have these powers, because of the gifts from Aaru. Don’t be fooled by the wands and gems. This amulet only works because it means something. It’s a symbol to the caster, a tool to channel and concentrate the magical energy inside them. Otherwise it’s just a rock, or some squiggles on a parchment.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is this another lecture? Like with the biscuit-axe thingie? Because I’m about ready to doze off here.”

“Fine.” He sucked down the beer and turned to leave.

“Wait.” I reached out and grabbed his arm, taking a brief second to admire the firm biceps under my hand. “You heard our conversation earlier. You heard what we’re up against. Everything is at stake here—your brothers and sister, the other angels, the humans. Help us. Help us win this thing. Help me win this thing.”

“It’s not my problem.”

“I know it’s not your problem,” I snapped. “I’m just trying to get some advice here. You were the Iblis for billions of fucking years. Mentor me, or some fucking shit like that.”

“You’re not like me, as you so eloquently said in that meeting,” he drawled. Then he took a few steps into my dining room before halting and turning to face me. “I don’t know why everyone decided to follow me. It’s not like I had some special mojo or threatened to kill them or anything. They just did. I felt it, felt the connection with every one of them, felt my circle of Aaru as if it were a part of my being. It just worked. I’ve got nothing for you, no advice or anything.”

“I’m an imp. The sword chose an imp. Maybe I’m just supposed to be impish. Maybe that’s how I rule.”

Samael walked toward the door, then stopped and turned again. “That sword’s not everything you think it is. It’s a tool. It’s no more than a focus in human magic. It’s sentient because it carries a part of me, just as Michael’s carries a part of him, but at the end of the day it’s just a tool. It’s not an oracle to guide your actions. It’s not some kingmaker. You could carry that damned thing around the rest of your life and not be the Iblis. The sword doesn’t make you the Iblis.”

“Then what does?”

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know.” He turned and took a step toward the door.

I hurried after him, feeling an incredible frustration. We’d failed in our last battle against ten thousand. This next one was the biggie, and I was about to rush in on a suicide mission. An imp with a sword.

“Oh. Here.” He turned around and a huge bag materialized in his hands. He shoved it at me, and as I took it I nearly fell to the floor with the weight. “This was a stupid hobby. These things weigh a fuck-ton. What was I thinking?”

He spun about and left as I dropped the sack on the ground with a grunt. It clinked with a familiar sound. Coins. Opening the top of the bag I peered in to see flattened and mangled copper pennies, imprinted with touristy shit from different cities. I’d thought he was just making a handful of these, one or two from each place. Instead he seemed to have thousands of them.

“Pretty money!” Lux appeared next to the bag, his wings outstretched as he dug in with both hands, holding the coins up then delighting in the noise as he dropped them back into the sack.

Good grief, this was a stupid hobby. And what the fuck was I supposed to do with them? I guess maybe they would be worth something at a scrap metal place. Were pennies pure copper? I took one out of the bag and sent my personal energy into it, feeling out the structure and makeup of the coin.

Fuck. Stupid things were mostly zinc. I doubted they’d even want them at the metal place. Maybe I could just bury them out back or something.

“Oooh, Mistress! Are we going to throw those into the pool and wish on them?” Snip walked over from the door and bent down to examine the coins.

“Money,” Lux informed him. “Special money.”

The Low dug a hand into the bag and pulled a few out in his palm. “Look, these are from Seattle. There must be tens of thousands of them in that bag. That’s a lot of wishes.”

“You’re not throwing them in my pool.”

I could totally see these things screwing up my filter, or getting stuck in the vacuum and burning out the motor. I didn’t like the way Snip was eyeing them, but it wasn’t like I cared if he stole them or not. Although I doubt he would. Fucking bag weighed close to two hundred pounds by my estimate.

“Just leave them here,” I told him. “I’ll deal with them once I get back from the battle.”

Snip stood up, his expression grim. “There are about thirty Lows who are too injured to fight, Mistress. They are claiming that they are fit, and that they want to fight by your side, but if they go they will surely die.”

We would all surely die. But there was no sense in my being the reason injured Lows got slaughtered on the battlefield.

“Tell them I’ve ordered them to stay and protect Nyalla and Lux. Then go gather the rest of my household, because it’s time for us to go.”

Time for us to go. And time for me to face this imposter, whether he was Luziel or not, and kill him.