 
Trouble with Angels

SueEllen Holmes

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011

Smashword Edition, License Notes

This ebook is supplied free of charge and may not be re-sold to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Thank you for downloading this eBook. If you enjoyed the writing please return to Smashwords.com to discover more works by this author. Alternatively, other books written by SueEllen Holmes can be obtained either through the author's official website:

http://www.unrealya.com

or through select online book retailers. Your ongoing support is much appreciated.

Urban Fantasy and Sci-Fi titles available so far:

The Crone's Stone

Dominion

Brink

A Darker Shade of Grey

Kaleidoscopic

My commitment to teen fiction is made possible by my enduringly supportive husband, skilled co-editor daughters and son's brave honesty. For once, words cannot express my love and gratitude.

Chapter One

Nimbus's Problem

Nimbus lined up his arrow, a faultless trajectory to pierce the girl's heart clean through. He pulled the golden bow taut, carefully weighing the decision to let fly. She sauntered along the street, oblivious of the angel sighting her from his perch on the edge of a nearby rooftop. Humans were inevitably unaware: they never paid attention.

"Nimbus!" Came a banshee screech from his left shoulder. "What are you doing?"

His fingers jerked in surprise and he accidentally let go. He watched in horror as the missile hurtled to collide with its target, the first time ever his aim was accurate. Typical! The girl gasped, hands to her chest, as a glorious starburst of colour and light shattered about her. She blinked myopically at the nearest telegraph pole. Where moments before she wore the snide expression of a modern tween, a dopey leer now resided, the hint of drool shining her lips.

"Nimbus," Celestial groaned, luminous white-haired head cupped in her palms. He considered the pose a vast improvement on her accusing features drilling his guilt. "What have you done?"

"I was practising! Until you showed up, I had no intention of shooting her!"

"Eternal damnation, Nimbus!" Celestial huffed and directed a glare at him. "You're not even supposed to be down here. We're not ready for this world. We're not trained. The Archangels will have your halo!"

"They should have yours for spying," he muttered. "Is it my fault my aim is off lately?"

This was an understatement. His aim was, and always had been, hideous. And the admission provided Celestial with another cue to lecture. It was one of her favourite activities among many, none of which Nimbus, who was usually on the receiving end, considered pleasant.

"Your aim is not the problem! It's your inability to keep an arrow in your quiver! Look at the poor girl. She's besotted with a post. Out in the open for all to see, stroking timbre and asking if it thinks she's pretty. I have real concerns about splinters. She's a laughing stock if anyone happens by. What do you intend to do about it?" she challenged.

"Let's not be hasty, Essie." Nimbus couldn't hide the desperation and nervously fluttered his feathers. "You can fix it, can't you?"

She narrowed to inspect his robe, eyes shimmering from indigo to ice blue. It was not a good sign. She reached over and plucked a crumb of chocolate cake, holding it aloft for his inspection, as if flour and powdered sugar were responsible for the Apocalypse.

"You've been pilfering food," she hissed. "Again!" Others on the Ethereal Realm raved about her dazzling beauty, but Nimbus only saw her face contorted by a variety of disapproving facades. He'd labelled them: _the grumpy troll, the critical Gorgon, the mean Harpy_ and her current look, _the enraged Medusa_.

"It was just a little snack." The only good thing about this woeful place, now symbolic of one more failure, was the food. He didn't need to eat, but considered himself a connoisseur. Essie considered the habit shameful and beneath one of his supposed stature.

"If you were not in such trouble already, I'd tell Bacchus," she said. "Stealing from those we're eventually meant to protect is not included in the manual of appropriate Fledgling Angel behaviour. Or any manual, for that matter. And, as the first Chosen on the Ethereal Realm since time unremembered, the standard is even higher for us. At this rate, you couldn't get accepted to goat-herd school, let alone Seraph training."

The truth stabbed Nimbus. So far, he'd proven the only inaccurate prediction the Delphic Oracle had made, and she'd been at it longer than Methuselah wheezed breaths. Great things were expected of the Chosen. Celestial, his birth sister in time, lived up to every one with ease. Essie flew, fought, churned out long passages of whatever script was given and worked spells beyond her grade. Her spectacularness defined his own incompetence. Not that she meant to; Celestial bent over backwards trying to help him. Occasionally, she even covered for him. But his lack was beyond even her capacity to repair. He lived in constant fear of having his wings stripped, tossed from the Ethereal Realm to this hellish sewer for eternity.

Celestial gazed at him, her fierce demeanour softening. "I will go up and speak to Bacchus, see if there's anything in the Book of Lore to reverse this catastrophe. And while I'm gone keep out of the humans' kitchens!"

Before Nimbus could plead for further help, Celestial disappeared without so much as a goodbye wisp of vapour and he was abandoned to silent misery. Her shrill voice echoed. She was enough to give even the Highest Divine a migraine. But it was chocolate cake! Even the Stoics couldn't resist.

He morosely watched the outcome of his latest mistake. The silly girl wailed at the unresponsive pole. "What have I done? Why won't you speak to me?"

Nimbus rolled his eyes. They glittered and changed, shifting from the shade of a pristine glacier in the remotest Arctic, to the aquamarine of the Mediterranean Sea to the deepest cobalt of a Morpho butterfly and myriad hues in between, depending on mood. He knew this, because he often gazed at himself in the Pool of Narcissus.

He grudgingly conceded these humans were charming creatures, especially the females, and confessed an urge to whip out his biggest arrow whenever one walked by (never to Celestial, of course). But surely the Most High could find a better use for a Cherub's Godly powers than babysitting a race who were more than a few pillars short of a temple? Certainly, anyone who'd witnessed a Star Trek convention or 'professional' wrestling would agree, there might be serious design faults.

Not that Nimbus would ever speak his belief out loud, or there would be Hell to pay. He took a big risk even thinking it. No-one questioned the Architect. Ever! Nimbus was familiar with stories of the Fallen, whose punishment for such impertinence was exile to the Nadir of Eternal Flame. Were they a rough crowd!

His mope was interrupted by a gang of jeering youths, who'd turned the corner onto the street. He glanced at the young girl slumped in the gutter, sobbing pathetically. Celestial would make the Fallen look like Fairies if Nimbus didn't save the girl from embarrassment. But how? Just as panic set in and exile down here seemed favourable to her wrath, a brilliant idea erupted like Vulcan's fireworks.

Shaking off his Angel-in-Training robe, he pulled his glorious white wings tight to his body, mentally shrinking them, and imagined the normal street clothes of a modern boy. In a blink, Nimbus materialised as close as he dared to the girl. Unfortunately, distracted by the need to stay hidden until the right moment, he overshot the cover of the low brick wall he was hoping for and landed painfully in a thick hedge of hydrangeas. Branches rudely poked unmentionable bits and a thick shower of petals covered his platinum curls in a ridiculous mauve toupee.

He barely had time to notch an arrow, step from the bushes and whisper a loud "Psst!" like some garden-variety pervert, then send his new hope home. The girl looked up unseeing, as a second sparkling shower of rainbow stars dissolved about her. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them slowly, love blossoming for the oddly dressed and mildly creepy boy, who'd apparently been stalking her from the foliage.

Relieved and proud of his genius, Nimbus tried unsuccessfully to coax her behind the fence, when disaster struck and the pack of teenagers arrived. Lucky for the girl, whose longing was now firmly focused on Nimbus, he also had the newcomers' undivided attention. They screamed in laughter, pointed and grasped at stitches in their sides. Nimbus peered down at himself and sighed in disbelief. Not only had he misjudged his landing, advertised by the scratches on his bare arms and legs, he had decked himself out in a hot-pink pair of leather shorts.

"What's that on his head?" shrieked one of the humans. He giggled so madly, Nimbus wondered briefly if Pluto's jester, Yoric, had sprinkled him with laugh-til-you-die powder.

"Biker Barbie's wearing my Gran's church hat! Such a pretty shade of purple." The comment drew another round of hysterics. Could it get much worse?

"Stop it!" the girl squealed. "Leave him alone!"

"Oooh, little girls in love. How sweet!"

His limited patience ran drier than the Sahara at midday and Nimbus fantasised unleashing the Biblical plague in downtown suburbia. Maybe he'd smote a few butts? This was all Celestial's fault! She knew he had trouble with his powers and should never have left him alone down here. He'd learn nothing, practicing mistakes.

Come to think of it, Nimbus was mighty hungry. What to do that would not provoke a spell in the fiery depths, visiting vicious fiends as a reward? He could simply dematerialise and write the fiasco off as a botched learning exercise, let their tutor, Bacchus, sort it out. This would also conveniently offer quiet time to heal the emotional scars of public humiliation in a hat that resembled a Nereids' swim-cap. Lavender really wasn't his colour. It was best to repress the fact he wore an outfit worthy of Mars, who enjoyed cross-dressing. If the Nymphs found out, he'd be the object of more degrading jokes. That sealed it; the humans were on their own.

Just as Nimbus was poised to break the repeated warnings of Bacchus, "Above all else, leave things better than when they were found", probably gaining a millennium on the time-out cloud, Celestial returned.

"What in the Lord's creation is this horrific nightmare!" She hovered as a dust mote by his ear. She may have been teeny, but her voice was a blaring trumpet and he grimaced. "Honestly, I leave you for one iota --"

Nimbus cut her off, affecting his best Cupid's face. "Could we please move passed the sermon to the part where you make it better, Celestial? I pledge the next one hundred years, during which, you can shout yourself hoarse and I will listen enthusiastically."

"He's talking to himself," said one of the aggravating humans. "Maybe, he's a nutter." The group nodded avidly in agreement.

"Stop wheedling, Nimbus. That cutesy rot might work on harem girls, but I find it an unbecoming waste of your abilities. And --" Blaspheme! Nimbus regretted coming down here more with each passing second. "-- a pledge from you is not worth the spit of the Devil's three-headed dog. Gabriel says it's important not to enable you."

Things were poorly when even the Archangels deferred to such hair-brained waffle, he fumed. "I should make you clean this up, but there's something strange going on upstairs and we need to sort it out." She gave the impression that a good skewering on Lucifer's pitchfork, to be slow roasted over the barbeques of the Underworld, was the only penalty she'd be happy with. "You get to wriggle out of strife again."

Celestial merely had to think it and the youths continued along the path as though uninterrupted, a minute gap in their memories the only sign of their brush with Angels. The girl, enraptured by Nimbus despite his fashion sense, would be far harder to heal.

Cherub's arrows were formed from the Breath of the Blessed, who fused stardust and moonbeams, a pinch of time from the beginning and the glorious source that flowed through all the mysteries and the astral bodies; the suns and the planets, and every living being. For Celestial to undo its bond, she too must wield this awesome and majestic power.

It was a lot to expect of a Cherub, who regardless of her abilities was still only an Angel-in-Training. She took her physical form. Cherubs mostly wore a proper body to interface with others on their Realm and on Earth, which was visible when they wanted it to be. She screwed-up her face in concentration.

Unnoticed, the girl crept over to Nimbus while he'd been 'negotiating', and was currently wrapped so tightly about him, she mimicked an octopus sucking the life from a mollusc. Petals decorated the ground as she seductively ran her fingers through his hair. When did they come of age? This one was clearly far riper than she appeared.

"When you're ready!" Nimbus gasped from his choke-hold, regretting writing-off professional wrestling and thinking a couple of the moves might come in handy.

He had to unglue the girl's other hand as it snaked down his back towards unexplored territory. Bacchus was right (another point Nimbus would never mention aloud); he had learned his lesson. If he came out of this with his windpipe intact, he would confine himself in future to observing from afar.

"Shhh! You broke my concentration! It's not like I'm baking muffins!" Celestial looked at the girl with saintly sympathy. "You stole her dignity, Nimbus. You should be ashamed!"

"Mmm, anchovy muffins." He stared wistfully off into space.

Celestial renewed her focus, her face red and tense with effort. She looked about ready to lay a Brachiosaur egg, but Nimbus decided commenting was most unwise. Suddenly, she burst into radiant white light, shining brighter than the all the stars combined. Nimbus staggered backwards and the girl crumpled to the ground, a blast of supernatural energy drawing an arc around them. As quickly as it had erupted, the blinding glow was gone. Once again, Celestial was a speck at Nimbus's shoulder.

The girl jumped to her feet, staring wildly about. She caught sight of Nimbus, and frowned in confusion, inspecting his clothing. He smiled faintly and gave her an encouraging little wave, ruining any possibility of respect. The girl sniggered.

"Nice outfit! It's refreshing to see a boy who's not afraid to promote his love of Mardi Gras."

She made an 'L' on her forehead and flounced off, the only trace of her ordeal an exaggerated attachment to wood. She went on to become the worst enemy of tree-loggers everywhere.

Nimbus shook his head sadly. "Love is fickle."

"I'd call that an improvement. Wouldn't you?" Celestial asked with a satisfied nod.

"Depends whose side you're on," Nimbus murmured. "So, what's going on upstairs?" He inquired as much out of curiosity as the need to prevent extra telling off.

"The place is completely deserted. I can't even find Bacchus."

"Did you check Zeus's footstool? He often likes to curl up there after..." he trailed off. But it was too late.

Bacchus' less-than-respectable habits never failed to encourage long, boring speeches from Celestial, this time on their Guide's disappointing fondness for ambrosia, the nectar of the Gods. In her view such excess was not behaviour befitting their rank. Instead, to Nimbus's immense surprise, Celestial looked mildly offended he thought her capable of missing the obvious.

"That's the first place I searched! This has never happened before. I'm worried," she said almost to herself, blonde spirals jittering in concern. "Come on! If there's something wrong we have to help."

Nimbus followed doubtfully in her wake. If there was trouble, what on the Ethereal Realm could they possibly do that all the fully-fledged Angels and Gods could not?

***

Chapter Two

Trouble on the Ethereal Realm

Nimbus often wished Celestial was wrong (which hardly ever happened), because it meant that he was never right, which got tiresome fast. But he had never wished it more so than in this instance. They had searched their inspirational home high in the clouds twice over and not found so much as a feather from their Brethrens' wings. They brooded in the Chamber of Greats, slouched on luxurious silk-covered day beds, usually occupied by the Most High as they held council. Celestial was clearly on the verge of panic.

"Oh, where can they be?" She picked-up a golden pillow and peered hopefully underneath.

"Well unless they have suddenly become pea-sized, they won't be under there," Nimbus said helpfully. Celestial threw him a glare to sizzle a lesser being. "You know, there is one place we haven't been..."

She stared expectantly, her brow furrowed. "Where?"

"Huitaca's."

"Of course! How could I be so stupid!"

Nimbus wondered if he should supply an answer, but opted for dignified silence. Celestial was on the edge right now and he did not want to push her over. Huitaca was the South American Goddess of Drunkenness; equivalent to an embarrassing distant relative, who told off-colour stories at parties, and usually ended up doing a jig on the table with a lampshade on their head. She was not favoured by the Elders.

Nimbus however, liked her very much. She was always laughing and dancing and could do excellent tricks with rainbows and moonbeams. She lived high on a hilltop at the outer edges of their Realm. Bacchus visited her often and they could be heard some nights singing together loudly and very badly. Zeus often sent a quelling lightening bolt their way to stop the awful racket.

"What are we waiting for?" Celestial asked with a renewed sense of purpose. In a blink they arrived on the porch of Huitaca's home.

Sure enough, evidence of a particularly rowdy night on the cocktails was scattered about: half-eaten fruits from the Horn of Plenty, delicacies from the Land of Milk and Honey, and dirty glasses with dregs of ambrosia covered every patch of marble. Celestial was clearly horrified by the mess, but Nimbus sulked.

"If they had a party, why not invite me? I can mingle."

"Because you're underage. And I think the better question is, why have we been given such an irresponsible bum for a Guardian? Look at this spectacle! It's like the Four Horsemen galloped through. Let's find Bacchus, I'm looking forward to aggravating his headache."

"As if," Nimbus grumbled. "The Four Horsemen are far too trendy for our Realm. And if they did show-up, I'd be the last to know."

They entered and were immediately greeted with a chorus of snores punctuated by the odd hiccough. Huitaca was nowhere in sight, but Bacchus was spread-eagled on his back on the litter-strewn floor. A full wine glass on his large, hairy belly rose and fell in unison with his snorts. He resembled a slovenly walrus. Celestial was about to empty the contents of the cup over his bald head, when Nimbus grabbed her arm.

"Listen!" he urged in a whisper.

A high-pitched cackle echoed up the hill, and with it footsteps coming their way. Nimbus risked a peek out the window and groaned.

"It's Jomjael and Ramiel!"

"How in the names of all Saints did they get in here?" Celestial's eyes went wide in alarm. "Gabriel banned the Black Angels from ever setting foot on the Ethereal Plane! Oh, what are we going to do?"

"Don't get your halo in a pretzel, Celestial. I have an idea. Help me move Bacchus, will you?"

This proved an ordeal. Bacchus was very heavy and stubbornly limp, and much bigger than the Cherubs. They pulled and pushed, grunting with exertion and painfully aware of the passing seconds. Nimbus briefly lost his grip and Celestial's face was pressed into Bacchus's sweat-ridden armpit. She eventually surfaced coughing and spluttering, her nausea-filled face a shade of puce. Nimbus mouthed 'sorry' and received a look to make his blood boil (if he actually had any).

Finally, after much un-Angel-like language and uncomplimentary mutterings about the need for Bacchus to embrace personal hygiene and go on a strict diet, they succeeded in propping him against a back wall. Nimbus snapped his fingers and Bacchus became the most unattractive statue ever carved. Celestial draped crumpled robes over his shoulders in the hopes he'd be mistaken for a coat rack.

"Strike a pose!"

She looked warily at him. "Will I ever recover from this?"

"Thanks for the faith. It's more a parlour trick anyway." Nimbus prayed this was true.

Celestial did as she was told, holding both hands out, palms face up, and he was grateful for the trust. He clicked again, making her a convincing book-stand. He lay open the book Bacchus had slept on across her hands, and then shrunk himself, taking the guise of an artfully placed Cupid on a side table. He finished the ruse just in time.

Jam and Ram, as they were known to their ruffian gang of Fallen Angels, entered, scanning the room with distasteful expressions. Ram wore only a loin cloth, his counterpart tight black leather pants. Their bodies were toned and powerful, their faces misleadingly beautiful. Unlike the Cherubs, their eyes were ebony and hair dark.

"What a dump! Who's the decorator, Chaos?" Ram let out a mighty burp and Jam giggled manically, his huge grey wings jiggling.

"My thoughts precisely." Jam lifted a leg to fart long and forcefully.

Nimbus was flabbergasted he didn't blow his own leg off. A foul reek filled the room and it was all they could do not to vomit. The stench made Bacchus's underarm odour rose-water by comparison.

"Get a load of this grotesque thing!" Ram moved over to inspect the stone-bound Bacchus. "Make's the boss's gargoyle collection look like Helen of Troy!"

Nimbus thought his assessment a bit harsh, but did not have time to dwell on it as he was hoisted into the air.

"Mmm, Helen of Troy," Jam said with a smarmy grin, turning his attention to Nimbus. "Ugh! This is worse."

Now, Nimbus was truly offended. He thought he made a lovely Cupid and resented an insult from such a ponce, who obviously spent too much time smooching himself in the mirror. Jam used Nimbus's extended foot to pick his nose, slime oozing his leg. Nimbus mentally shuddered, working very hard not to lash out and kick Jam in the eye.

"I think it would look better without its head." Ram reached over his back to extract an evil-looking curved sword from between glossy brown wings.

This was an unfortunate development. Maybe now was the time to go against his own advice and panic. Jam dropped him to the table and hopped excitedly from foot to foot in anticipation of wanton destruction. Ram raised the sword and Nimbus knew he had no choice but to reveal himself, and probably his friends, by re-materialising. Then the hunt would be on. Just as the sword began its downward sweep, a quiet voice issued from the door.

"What are you doing?"

The blade stopped a millimetre from Nimbus's neck and Ram fumbled guiltily to hide the sword at his rear like a child playing pick-a-hand.

"Y-you know." He trembled with fear. "We're searching for the Book."

Jam nodded madly, his alarm obvious. It was one of the leaders of the Fallen. Known as Azazel, he was a creature of immeasurable spite. He wore a black gossamer tunic and a crown of black opals and pearls, massive pitch wings shining.

"It seems to me, you were indulging a spot of vandalism. Perhaps, I should inform the Great One and he can provide you with a more appropriate outlet for your games." He spoke softly, yet menace radiated in his tone. Nimbus could only imagine fearfully what punishment in Hell consisted of.

Ram went white. "No, no, no. That won't be necessary, Master. We have scoured this place! The Book is not here," he grovelled untruthfully. Jam shook his head energetically, stressing the point.

"I want the Book of Lore, no excuses. You are not to return without it. We can hold the Elders for three days, no more. That is the time you have and I warn you not to fail me." He vanished, a hint of sulphur on the air.

Jam and Ram were invigorated by his departure and started searching in earnest. They overturned chairs, upended bookcases to examine the books and toss them onto a pile in the middle of the floor, ripped upholstery and rifled drawers. Celestial was bumped in the process and the book in her hands fell unnoticed to join the others heaped on the ground.

"It's no use! It's not here," Ram said, his shoulders slumping dismally.

"But we have searched everywhere," Jam whined. "I hate it here. It's too ... clean." He moved to Celestial, viewing her up close for the first time. Reaching out, he lightly touched her cheek. "Wow, this one's stunning!"

"Will you focus? I do not fancy an eternal journey through Beelzebub's intestine as a tapeworm, which is probably the best we can expect if we don't find that Book! We have to start over. We've missed it somewhere along the way."

Jam grumbled under-breath, agreeing half-heartedly. He picked Celestial up in a bear-hug, carrying her towards the door. Nimbus was torn between stopping him or rescuing her later, after an extended period free from lectures.

"What are you doing?" screeched Ram.

"I like this. I'm taking it with me."

"How in Satan's boils do you propose to carry it and search at the same time? Unlike some, you only have two arms! Leave it. You can come back for it when we're done."

Jam saw sense in the suggestion and gently placed Celestial on the divan. He licked her long and sloppily on the cheek. And then they were gone. Celestial and Nimbus re-animated in parallel states of agitation.

"Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!" She gagged convulsively and flapped her hand at her spit-stained cheek.

"You got off easy!" Nimbus hopped gracelessly on one foot with his snot-soiled leg extended. They made the doorway in a tangled wedge of feathers and limbs.

"Don't let it touch me!" Celestial shouted, attempting to distance herself from further contamination. "I got Bacchus-germs as well." After much shoving and cursing they burst through, to soak themselves in every last drop of Huitaca's disinfectant.

"Wake up! You worthless dung beetle," Celestial yelled a short while later. She amplified the message by crashing a large pair of cymbals next to Bacchus's head.

Nimbus stuck his fingers in his ears. Bacchus' eyes flew open in shock, his face ruddy. He favoured the monk style of hairdo and had a thin circle of ginger hair ringing his head. Apparently, that was not the only thing ringing as he blearily rubbed his assaulted ears. He sat in a messy slouch on the lounge, his grubby robes leaving nothing to the imagination and looking almost as worse for wear as he did.

"Really, there's no need to shout my dear." He gestured for her to tone it down and primly adjusted his clothing.

"Too little, too late," Nimbus griped, the lingering and most unsavoury image of Bacchus's man-boobs floating in his head. Celestial clapped the cymbals again and Bacchus winced theatrically. Unprepared for the clash this time, Nimbus lost his patience.

"Give me those!"

He tossed them into the air where they evaporated. Celestial crossed her arms and looked crabby. Bacchus glanced around.

"Things must have got a tad unmanageable last night. Although I do not recall making such a mess. I had the most disconcerting vision," he said, as he massaged his sweat-shined cranium. "I feel a bit stiffer than usual."

"With the barrels you put away, it's astonishing you have any memory cells left at all!" Celestial retorted waspishly. "And it was not a vision!"

Bacchus sniffed indignantly. "There is nothing the least bit wrong with a civilised sup between friends. Purely medicinal, you understand. It's good for the constitution." He patted his rotund belly as if this proved the point. It sounded to Nimbus like the sloshing of a wine-filled gourd. He interjected before Celestial's pious streak kicked-in.

"Quit quibbling. This is an emergency! The Fallen have the Elders imprisoned somewhere and some of them are on our plane, searching for the Book of Lore as we speak, or argue as the case may be. We have three days in which to locate the Book and... I don't know... Stop the Fallen in their task... Whatever it is!"

Nimbus shuddered as an unpleasant vision of being shoved up a giant nose to drown in mucus came unbidden to consciousness. He vowed to be prepared at all times and materialised a snorkel for just in case.

Celestial eyed him suspiciously. "What is that you're holding?"

"Security," he muttered, hiding it in his robe.

"Back-up, Nimbus!" Bacchus spluttered. "The Elders and the Book are lost?"

"So it seems," Celestial answered sullenly, still smarting from the premature loss of her cymbals.

"But I had the Book with me last night. Here, in this very room!"

Celestial and Nimbus looked at each other. With a potent waft of pine-scent, they simultaneously dropped to their knees and scrambled through the mess on the floor, seeking the book bumped out of Celestial's hands.

"Got it!" Nimbus triumphantly held up a plain, red, leather-bound specimen.

"I knew there was a good reason the Elders did not RSVP. Confinement against one's will is a suitable excuse for non-attendance." Bacchus rambled to himself, seemingly unperturbed by the growing calamity.

"Now what?" Celestial ignored Bacchus's infuriating diversion from the point.

"Well, considering your oaf of a boyfriend will return soon to whisk you away on a romantic date at the zombie carnival, probably complete with maggots and body parts, I'm in favour of leaving here as soon as possible."

"Ahh, young love." Bacchus stared off, paying the barest attention to Nimbus's words. "I must tell you about the time I developed a soft spot for Medusa. She's really not a bad as they say. Such prejudice over a few asps! To avoid being turned into stone one simply needs to focus on her feet..." And, like so many occasions before, he launched into one of his lengthy meandering stories as the Cherubs readied to flee their beloved sanctuary.

***

Chapter Three

A Visit to Jinx

"I do not travel well! Unfamiliar climates disagree with my bunions," Bacchus maintained stubbornly.

"Wow, Bacchus! I had no idea you were so brave! Giving us that daft bunion story, when actually you want to stay and protect our home from the Hordes of the Doomed. They will definitely return to help find the Book. Staying behind alone, even though you will be incredibly out-numbered. Your courage is just so admirable!"

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?" Nimbus whispered in Celestial's ear.

"This is not the time for subtlety," she replied, as Bacchus fidgeted nervously and mumbled to himself.

"Yes, well in my day of course. Bit of a warrior, heroic deeds and all that." He waved an airy hand. "But now... Age has taken its toll –"

"And senility!" Nimbus couldn't help himself and received the swift jab of an arrow in his rear-end.

"Hush!" Celestial murmured, as Nimbus grouchily rubbed his pin-cushioned butt. "He's coming around."

"-- reflexes not what they were... Not up to rash actions ... And I have my charges to consider. Can't leave the innocent babes to fend for themselves in the big cruel world. No... No, it would be better if I accompanied them on this sojourn, provided words of wisdom and fulfilled my role as counsellor. Yes, the decision's made then. I'm coming!" He announced the last loudly.

"I just require a moment to gather essentials." And Bacchus vanished, only to reappear burdened with numerous packages and bundled sacks strapped across his body. A wooden yoke draped with flagons, bunches of drying herbs, strings of berries, an assortment of spare sashes to decorate his robes and one large dead peacock, protruded from both shoulders.

"What in the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World are you carrying?" raged Celestial.

"Supplies," he said defensively. "I don't think ambrosia is available on Earth. Just in case that's where we end up. And they really do a lousy deep-fried peacock!"

Nimbus snickered, thinking their guardian looked like a comical scarecrow overloaded with hanging fruit bats. There was, however, nothing comical about Celestial's reaction.

"Unbelievable! Well if you pack it, you carry it! And if you slow us down, we will leave you behind! So--"

"Err," Nimbus thwarted what would undoubtedly prove an extended tirade. "Now seems like a great time to inquire as to destination?"

"Yes!" Celestial said. "Where do you recommend we go, Bacchus? That is if you're not too loaded to move!"

"I wish I was loaded," he grumbled resentfully. "As you know, only the Most High can read the Book of Lore in its entirety. They alone are worthy of all its knowledge. The Book shows to others precisely what's required knowledge for each rank. Cherubs, for instance, are privy to the Rules for Fledgling Angels. I can access Rules for Fledging Angels and Their Guardians, and some other chapters on catering for large functions and party decoration for community gatherings. The Book may shed light on what is happening, because even the Fallen are somewhat bound by its laws." Bacchus looked relieved to exercise his usefulness for once. "So, I suggest we visit the only other translator of tongues available in the Elders' absence. Jinx!"

Nimbus let out an agonised groan, but Celestial was clearly pleased. "That's brilliant! I love the highlands of Papua New Guinea at this time of year. I have just the hat!"

"Please, please! Don't worry about me. I'll be fine!" Nimbus laid on the melodrama. "Does anybody remember I'm not immune to Jinx's bad luck? How could we forget the treasured occasion, without unleashing an arrow mind you, I had to fend off an extended family of love-crazed porcupines! I was pulling out quills for a month. Can someone please inform me of the purpose of such prickly animals?"

"Yes, but \--"

"No, please allow me to continue, Celestial. Then, there was the time I came back from her house with a severe speech impediment. I swore like a demon every time I blinked for five whole days!" Nimbus's voice was tinged with hysteria. "As penance for my potty-mouth I had to clean out Jupiter's spittoon with a cotton bud and no powers. And he did not stop using it in the process! Have you seen how big that thing is? I almost drowned in phlegm! Or the facial fungus; I sprouted blue fur and had to shave six times a day! Or, and I'm leaving the best for last --"

"Enough already!" Celestial thundered. "I'm sorry for your woes, Nimbus, I really am. But this is more important than you, or I, or Bacchus. Besides, I have heard some Angels grow into their immunity and it has been a while since we've seen Jinx. Maybe, you'll be fine this time."

"Celestial's right my boy. We must face our fears in order to overcome them."

Nimbus rolled his eyes at this trite lesson from Good Angelling 101. Clearly, Bacchus had never confronted a rabid gang of porcupines obsessed with obtaining a particular Cherub for a mate!

"Okay. I hope you're right about this, Celestial." Nimbus secretly thought that knowing his luck around Jinx, this would be a rare case of her getting it wrong. "Let's go then," he said grudgingly.

Just as they were poised to leave, the Cherubs taking the lead, there was a gigantic crash. They spun to see Bacchus sprawled face first on the ground, his big backside in the air and his arms flailing, his head stuck in the peacock carcass. One of his sashes -- a fluorescent pink and yellow polka-dotted number -- had tangled about his knobbly knees with disastrous effect. Muffled yells could be heard through bird flesh.

"Quick! He'll suffocate in there!" Celestial rushed to his aid.

She yanked and pulled, one foot jammed on his shoulder, until Bacchus's head re-emerged with a loud pop! Nimbus remained on the side-lines, stifling amusement. He received a mutinous grimace from a hassled-looking Bacchus.

"Most generous, Celestial. Many thanks."

Nimbus feigned innocence. "I just thought facing the inside of a peacock's butt might resemble facing your fears."

After Celestial stripped Bacchus of considerable baggage -- he was left with only one flagon of ambrosia and a plain spare sash for his robe (with many objections and grumbles like; "I do hope we don't dine out. I'll be underdressed!") -- they were finally off in the tiny twinkle of a baby's eye.

The trio arrived at the bottom of a steep hill, faced with a narrow path that carved windingly up through dense rainforest. The sounds of exotic birds whooping high in the trees met their ears. The air was laden with the mingled scents of tropical flowers. Nimbus became increasingly jittery.

"Maybe I can stay down here and you two can get the information?"

Celestial stared pointedly at him through a gauzy screen. "Stop being such a coward. We all need to hear this. Now, come on!"

Admittedly, Nimbus thought it impossible to take her usual unyielding tone seriously, given Celestial balanced what appeared to be a humongous tortoise shell on her head, complete with dangling corks and camouflaged mosquito netting draped to her shoulders. He refrained from laughing with great difficulty. Her attempts at haute couture fashion were a somewhat hit and miss affair.

Half a slowly trudged hour later with much complaining from a sweaty and breathless Bacchus, forced to endure unceasing "I told-you-so's" on the merits of lighter packing from Celestial, Jinx's heavily fortified stone compound came into view. She chose such isolation as much to protect others, as for the unbelievable views over a vast unspoilt wilderness. Jinx favoured the Corporeal Realm and lived on Earth. Although, Nimbus had heard unconfirmed rumours the Greek deity of war, Athena, politely suggested relocation on account of the fact many more of her soldiers tripped and mortally fell on their swords when Jinx was nearby.

She welcomed them enthusiastically at the door. Cleopatra stole her look off the wall from a shrine in Egypt: pitch beaded hair, wrapped layers of sheer material covering her body and numerous articles of chunky gold jewellery. "Come in, come in! It's been so long since I've had visitors!"

"I wonder why," Nimbus grouched unkindly.

He lagged behind Celestial as a safeguard when they entered. He noticed Jinx no longer jingled, unencumbered in her own home by the bells that usually cautioned the unwary of her approach.

"Bacchus too! Wonderful! Oh, and thank you for the you know-what's you sent." She winked at him confidentially, her black eyes sparkling.

"Not at all, any time!" he beamed.

Distrust ruled Celestial's features. Bacchus was known to trade in suspect relics, some of which were outright illegal. He once foolishly attempted to sell Poseidon's storm-trident, believing it to be a replica, and received two weeks in the watery depths supervising the God of the Seas' pet Kraken for his troubles. Bacchus still broke out in nervous hives at the merest mention of the word 'squid'.

"Please, have a seat. Nice hat, Celestial!"

Celestial flushed. "Do you think so?" she said, pulling the netting to the top of the curve so that she now resembled a Bedouin with the world's largest turban.

Nimbus was too busy fretting to notice. Bacchus very considerately averted his gaze and cleared his throat behind a hand. They seated themselves on benches surrounding a long table, with Nimbus positioned as far as possible from Jinx at the other end.

She peered at him apologetically. "I'm so sorry about the noses, Nimbus!"

On their last trip, Nimbus sprouted noses all over his body giving him an unpleasantly acute sense of smell. "There are some odours that should never be sniffed," he muttered darkly.

Without permitting him further scope to elaborate, Celestial launched straight into their reason for coming. "We need you to interpret the Book of Lore for us. There's something terrible happening upstairs. The Elders have disappeared!"

"Blessed me!" Jinx exclaimed.

"It is a rather long and stirring story," Bacchus interrupted. "May I suggest some fortifying nutrition to ease the telling? Possibly some honeyed wine?"

Nimbus leaped to his feet. Several of his feathers dislodged and floated breezily about. "I'll get it! I haven't cooked for a while."

He left for the kitchen with only a minor stumble, one rebound off the wall and a single shattered pottery vase, which Jinx put right in a flash. He returned relatively unscathed with several minor burns and an eye-patch covering a watering left eye (Jinx's extra hot chilli powder had toppled from an overhead shelf), to place a large terrine and ladle on the table.

"Tortellini and chocolate sauce!"

Everybody except Celestial busied themselves sorting napkins and cutlery and filling bowls. She leaned out from the table, avidly inspecting something on the ground that trailed from the kitchen.

"Do you think it needs shredded coconut?" Nimbus queried, more feathers hovering around his head. "Oh, and I think I made the eternal pilot flame go out on your oven, Jinx." There was sudden silence and Nimbus looked up to a circle of faces frozen in alarm.

"Umm, you're shedding dear boy," Bacchus said, pointing uncertainly at Nimbus's right wing.

Jinx appeared truly distressed. Slowly, Nimbus spread the indicated wing out to its full extension, staring straight ahead as a deluge of feathers invaded the room. Every individual feather avalanched to the floor. Jinx gasped.

"Don't look, Nimbus!" Celestial advised, readjusting her features in a cheerful, if not entirely convincing, smile. "It's normal to moult... Now and then... For some... On one wing..."

"How bad is it?" he asked dully, receiving the less than positive news in their expressions. He visibly steeled himself and turned to his wing.

"Agghh!" What had been densely covered in lustrous, startlingly white, downy feathers, now resembled a plucked turkey wing. "Not feather-rot!" He collapsed pathetically to his chair and put his head in his hands. "Cover me, I'm hideous," he wailed, sounding not unlike the girl he'd accidentally shot with his arrow the day before.

Celestial sighed at Nimbus's histrionics. "If the past is anything to go by, this will be temporary, Nimbus. Here have some tortellini."

She eyed the contents of the bowl doubtfully but refrained from making matters worse by crushing his deluded faith in his own cooking ability. Dislodging her unwieldy hat to place it on a sideboard, she flickered next to Nimbus, producing a white cotton sheet and gently wrapping the offending limb in a sling. She patted him bracingly.

He snuffled and commenced eating glumly while the others spoke. Bacchus quietly prevented Jinx from apologising again to avoid traumatising Nimbus further, and encouraged her to start on the Book by pushing it her way. She placed a hand on the cover and it grew enormously from a slim diary-sized volume to a huge fat version covering almost a third of the table.

"I'm not allowed to share knowledge with you that you don't have access to, but I can place you on the road that will move you from ignorance to illumination." Jinx closed her eyes, scanning to and fro beneath their lids. They snapped open. "The answers lie in the Cave of Unknowns. You are granted three questions each over a lifetime, so you must choose them carefully."

"Excellent!" Celestial exclaimed. "Surely with nine questions between us we can sort the Sacred from the Heathens and discover what's going on!" Bacchus cleared his throat and looked decidedly shifty. Celestial paid no attention. "Where is the Cave?" she asked.

"That is unknown," Jinx replied mystically.

Celestial snorted in frustration and started to vent her feelings when Bacchus cleared his throat again. "I know where the Cave of Unknowns is located," he said miserably.

Celestial glared at him suspiciously. "I imagine I'm going to regret this. Have you been there, Bacchus?"

"Three times," said Bacchus guiltily. "It's a bit of a story, actually --"

"We'll have the express version, please!" Celestial snapped.

He continued in a monotone. "Hermes and I had a wager on what remains in Pandora's Box, after all her evils are expelled. I thought that my guess of a double-cheese pizza might not be quite correct. So I did a bit of research. Turns out it's hope, of course. Made a tidy sum, too," he reminisced, clearly please with himself.

"You cheated, and you wasted a question." Celestial glowered dangerously at him. "And!?"

"I desired to know how to get a date with a very attractive Valkyrie. She had the most magnificent jerkins! That was a bit of an ordeal really. Turns out you need to be a Viking slain in battle."

Jinx shifted uncomfortably in the background. Celestial's eyes faded to a threatening storm-cloud grey, her temper seriously close to igniting.

"Please inform me, of all the infinite grand and important questions available, which would an undeserving wretch such as yourself waste his final privileged gift on?"

Her teeth ground together. Bacchus winced.

"Tantalus refused to give me his recipe for deep-fried peacock."

Nimbus spoke. "I've had a thought."

"So that makes just the one then? Good for you, it's critical to begin somewhere."

Celestial tried for levity to boost Nimbus's flattened self-esteem, while hurling spears at Bacchus with every glance. Nimbus smiled faintly, almost tempted to make fun of her hat but maturely rising above his petty urges. "Jam and Ram will go back to Huitaca's and we won't be there. They'll put 'Holy' and 'Grail' together and come after us like King Arthur on the Crusades."

"You're right, Nimbus." Celestial was crestfallen. "We've put Jinx in deadly peril!"

Jinx laughed heartily. "Thanks for the concern, Celestial. They have more to fear from me than me from them. Those black-hearted puppets have never been here. They won't have a scrap of immunity at all. Now hurry away before they arrive and remember, choose your questions well."

Nimbus experienced fleeting sympathy for Jam and Ram, despite their attempt to behead him. His eye throbbed painfully, competing with an assortment of bruises, and his wing hung limp and featherless by his side, naked for the world to see.

***

Chapter Four

Three Questions

"Well, places of ancient mystery are not supposed to be easy to locate!" Bacchus said, after taking a wrong turn for the second time. "It starts with a 'V', I think," he mumbled.

Nimbus stood forlornly on the volcanic rim of Kilauea by a very antagonised Celestial. He was too depressed to enjoy the spectacular lava flows, or help as she went through all the 'V's' on the map.

"We are wasting what little time we have! Venezuela, Victoria, Vancouver!" she listed desperately. "Vladivostok, Volsk, Venice!"

"Galapagos!" Bacchus exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "It's an undersea cliff-cave, off the Island of Marchena."

Celestial's jaw clenched. Nimbus worried she might push her teeth back into her gums, what with all the grinding. "What happened to 'V'?" she hissed perilously.

"Clearly," Bacchus said patiently, "'V' rhymes with 'G'."

"Clearly! Come along, Nimbus."

Guiding him gently by the elbow, they disappeared and made the underwater cavity of the tiny island a moment later. They stood in a huge dim antechamber, with ancient urns, scattered mounds of treasure and flickering wall-mounted torches lighting the area. Iguanas teemed over the cave floor, sidling away in an alarmed wall of bodies like the parting of the Red Sea, as the Angels entered.

Celestial balanced precariously on tiptoe looking anxious. "Not reptiles. I hate reptiles!"

"At least they're not porcupines," Nimbus said robustly.

Relief not to be the one suffering for a change, competed with his guilt over such selfishness. As well as the lizards, the Cherubs were surprised to note, they were not alone. In the middle stood chairs and a table with the remnants of a recent meal.

"Oh, no," groaned Bacchus. "How could I forget!" He slapped his forehead -- a tad forcefully -- compelled to rub it better.

"Bacchus! My good man! Finally come to pay your debt?" rumbled the huge Minotaur advancing from a gloomed recess towards them.

He lumbered forward, his hand outstretched in readiness to favour Bacchus with a bone-crunching grip. Nimbus suspected there could be a smile spread across the bovine face, but it was difficult to be sure.

"Is he happy to see us, or preparing to feast?" Celestial nervously echoed his thoughts.

It could just as easily be a scowl. "Get ready to fly," he whispered. The creature's hugeness, long sharp horns, large golden nose-ring and swishing cow's tail on a bulkily muscled human form were more than a tad intimidating.

"Major Bull, wonderful to see you again." Bacchus flinched, gingerly extracting his crushed hand. "May I present my charges, Celestial and Nimbus."

"Marvellous to meet you both at last. Bacchus has told me much about you! Please, while you are here, make yourselves at home," he said, stretching his arms wide in welcome. Nimbus was extremely relieved not to have to shake his hand. The bruises sustained at Jinx's still ached and he did not fancy adding to his collection.

"The Birds will be thrilled to have company. It's been a while! I will go fetch them and we can catch up. After we've completed our business transaction, of course."

The Major threw what might have been a shrewd glance in Bacchus's direction -- it was hard to tell. Bacchus nodded and returned an edgy, tight little grin as the Minotaur exited via a side tunnel.

"Well, he seems like a lovely chap," Nimbus said.

Celestial pressed her lips together reprovingly. "Yes, he does. Although, labelling females 'birds' is borderline offensive! What did you do to him, Bacchus? The Major seems a bit unhappy with you. Did you steal the Sacred Brahma? We really do not have time for trouble."

"How could you insinuate such a thing? Nothing at all to be concerned about, my dear! Just a little wager between pals," he appeased, his expression unconvincing.

Celestial sighed, her lack of conviction obvious. "Excellent! Pay him and we can get on with the task at wing." Nimbus gave her an aggrieved look. "Oops, sorry Nimbus. I did not mean to remind you of your feather-rot. It's just a figure of speech. Besides, I don't think you're as bald as you were. Your feathers are coming back!"

There was no time to celebrate, as odd chattering echoed from the Minotaur's tunnel. Bacchus shifted uneasily as Celestial rounded on him, eyes wide, finger jabbing in accusation.

She whispered harshly, "Is that who I think it is?!"

Nimbus blinked dumbly in the direction of the sounds. Maybe he should pay more attention. It was frustrating to barely gain a participation ribbon in the knowledge race with Celestial. For once he'd like to come first or even achieve a placing. At least be competitive and not stretchered off the field before making the starting blocks.

"Harpies?" Celestial turned a grim shade of purple. "You've been fraternising with criminal elements again, haven't you?"

"I do not fraternise! And that's rather judgemental, Celestial. The accusations were groundless, the punishment of exile extreme," Bacchus huffed.

Celestial wound-up, glowing like a firefly. Nimbus was unpleasantly reminded of an air-raid siren. He intervened, before either could mount a prolonged defensive.

"Hello, I'm Nimbus. Lovely to meet you."

His outstretched hand dangled awkwardly as one of the bird-like creatures politely attempted to shake it with her wing tip, offering a toothy grin. Nimbus hoped she was not hungry, her teeth and talons looked sharp and past experience with pointy things had given him a justifiable phobia. He repeated the process with the other two. They were really quiet sweet, with the bodies of colourful little wrens and tiny human faces. Major Bull made the introductions given that he was the only one available to translate their cheeps.

"People call them Storm, Blackness and Rapid," he snorted disdainfully. "But to those who know better, they are Wren, Robin and Sparrow. They would like me to inform you that they are delighted to make your acquaintance. Even that of the rude girl Cherub."

Celestial turned scarlet. It was one thing to slander them out of earshot, but totally another to get caught at it. Nimbus was surprised by the fact they'd nailed his sister so quickly, before tamping the shameful satisfaction deep inside. She stuttered out an abashed apology.

"They won't hold your unfortunate misconceptions against you by resisting the impulse to peck your eyes out."

"Thank you," she stammered, to an ongoing chorus of chirps.

Major Bull nodded, necessitating a hasty retreat before someone lost an eye on his horns. "The whole spectacle was a nasty misunderstanding. The Harpies no longer hang out with the Furies, returned every human ever stolen in practically brand new condition, except for a couple that were genuinely misplaced, and have embraced vegetarianism. In my own defence, I have always been a herbivore and could not possibly have eaten all those villagers. Would not agree with my digestion!" The Harpies embellished the telling with animated twittering.

"People simply have terrible navigational skills. I tried to guide them out of the labyrinth, but they fled screaming in the opposite direction. Surely, I should not be held responsible for their refusal of my assistance and loss in the crevices of the maze? After all, it was I left to clean up the mess, rotting bodies oozing all over my nice marble floors. And the smell!"

Celestial's mouth hung open. "Err, of course not. That all seems reasonable. Well done," she babbled. "I am deeply sorry for causing offence and promise to consider all sides before forming opinions in future."

Nimbus admired her restraint. Celestial felt dishonoured enough not to point-out, if she so desired, she could incinerate them in a breath.

They were invited to sit and without delay, Major Bull asked, "Well, Bacchus. Where are my arrows?"

It seemed Nimbus's view that Celestial would reduce beings to ashes today was premature in regard to Bacchus. She was positively incandescent with rage.

"You've been betting with our arrows!" she howled incredulously. "If the Most High hear about this you will be relegated to purgatory for infinity!"

"Speaking of the most high," Nimbus shouted her down. "Can we concentrate on the situation? Jam and Ram may be useless gibbons, but we're sure going out of our way to help them along with all these delays. And what if they send someone higher up? We're really stuck in the nectar jar then."

Celestial immediately saw the sense in this. "Bacchus stay here and sort something out. If we are minus even a single fletch from an arrow by the time I return, I shall inform the Egypt Quarter you're the one who's been thieving Ra's Sunrays and trading them for Pearls of Wisdom. Which, it's plain you have failed to apply!"

Bacchus inhaled sharply. "You would never!"

"Try me!" Celestial dared.

"Pardon me, speaking of trades. What have you brought in offering for the Cave of Unknowns?" Major Bull asked, with a curious tilt of his massive head.

"Offering?" Nimbus sighed and exchanged a bleak expression with Celestial. "What in Saturn's breakfast have we got to exchange? We can't risk materialising anything from under the noses of those above. Then they'll know for sure someone's escaped their clutches!"

"Is nothing straight forward?" Celestial visibly wilted.

Bacchus braved combustion in Celestial's fury. "It's a shame I'm not equipped with my original luggage, plenty to donate from that."

"And none of it yours, no doubt!" Celestial took a moment to gather composure, smoothing her tunic. "Major Bull can you suggest anything we are in possession of that may work as a gift?"

"Well, the Voice of Unknowns has been stroppy of late. Keeps rambling on about not getting out enough, no news getting through from the wide world. So possibly, you could offer information..." He thought for a moment. "Or better still. Gossip!"

Celestial began to object. Nimbus perceived the rave in his head, as clear as Zeus's Welcome Bells, before she'd even opened her mouth. She proceeded in a sing-song voice with a nasal inflection (maybe he added that). "We are Fledging Angels, not entertainment reporters. None of the Elders tell us anything of interest, proclaiming we are too young and inexperienced to understand. Surely, Bacchus is the rumour-monger for the job, if only he had not already exhausted his chances!"

Nimbus leaped to his feet, hauling a startled Celestial upright. "That's a miraculous idea! Thank you, Major Bull. Celestial, come on!" He grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the furthest opening at the back of the cave, nudging lizards out of the way as he went.

"What are you doing? We don't have anything worthwhile to share!" Celestial warily picked her way through the scaly handbags with legs.

"You know your problem, Celestial?"

"I was unaware I had one," she answered snippily.

"You're too anchored in reality. The Voice of Unknowns has not been out for centuries. How will it know the difference between fact and fiction? We can make up anything and it'll be good enough!"

"You mean lie?"

"Technically, yes. Surely a minor infringement is acceptable in gaining major advantage over evil? You have to admit, it's a bit of a grey area. Besides, we've got no choice. Unless you'd like to trade your arrows?"

This last was thrown in to reinitiate Celestial's outrage at Bacchus and divert her attention from the untruths they were about to fabricate. Nimbus mentally gave himself a pat on the back for his cleverly manipulative skills; Gabriel could seek psychological know-how from him in future.

"Oh, very sophisticated, Nimbus. Dishonesty it is!" she said primly, as they entered a large, eerily luminous-green cavern. "I have no intention of forgetting our 'Guardian's'," she layered the word with scepticism, "latest sin, but I am after all a professional. I am perfectly capable of getting the job done. No matter how unpleasant." Nimbus curtly farewelled his self-congratulation. "Be very careful what you say, Nimbus. We cannot afford to loose a question."

A high, argumentative voice emanated about the close space. The Cherubs squinted in its direction and made out a light twitching across the back wall.

"Who in Anubis's toilet is it this time! Always asking stupid questions: 'How do I remove the scorch marks left by Thor's hammer from my toga?', 'Where did I leave my abacus?', 'Who's going to win in the ninth at the chariot races tomorrow?' it mimicked nastily. "Does it look like I'm bothered? Does it look like gifts of incense and aromatic oils are going to do me any good in here? Does anyone at all give a Gorgon's wart how I smell?"

Nimbus doubted it (although the smell of lotus-blossom was rather pleasant). The Voice was highly obnoxious; ranting about not caring how the villagers discouraged their Hydra without sacrificing more maidens, because he wasn't a pest-exterminator. Nimbus also found it hard to sympathise because they were addressing what was essentially disco lights bouncing off rock. He challenged anyone to try!

He cleared his throat. "Oh grand Voice of the Cave of Unknowns, we come offering news of outside events in return for your wise and splendid counsel!"

"Well speak up then boy!" it demanded churlishly. "I like to hear it when you grovel."

Nimbus thought it best to start with something simple and close to the truth, so he told of the famous starlet Aphrodite and her feud with the cougar Persephone over Adonis. They'd had a number of public and highly unseemly cat-fights at various fashionable night shrines, ending in an unfortunate incident involving Adonis, a wild boar and of one of Aphrodite's jealous previous boyfriends. Nimbus's story was punctuated by "reallys" and "you don't says" from the Voice, while Celestial rolled her eyes at the sordid tale. She had no time for the pampered elite who were worshipped for their appearance and not much else.

Nimbus finished. "May I ask my question now?"

"Yes," intoned the Voice. "You have two questions remaining."

"NO! That's not fair. It was a rhetorical question!" Nimbus objected hotly.

"Clause 219 of the Oracles Handbook states I am at liberty to decipher which is a question and which is not. If you have a complaint, refer it to the Grievances Department of your local division of the Divine and Supernatural Council!"

Nimbus was about to protest further by punching the incredibly irritating wall in what he estimated was its nose, but Celestial prevented him by clamping a hand over his mouth for good measure. "Why have the Gods and Seraphim vanished from the Ethereal Realm?" she blurted.

"Oooh, that's a hard one!" the Voice exclaimed in its fruity accent. "I can conceive of only one explanation for the absence of the Most High. Every one thousand millennia a meeting of truce can be called by either of the warring upper and lower factions. All are required to attend and the gathering is held at the home of the one who made the request. It is my guess the Elders are present at said meeting and as it is obviously not taking place in the Heavens, it must be held in the Underworld. Ergo, empty Ethereal Realm!"

Meanwhile, Nimbus turned blue from lack of air, forced to stomp on Celestial's foot for release. "What did you do that for?" She hopped on the spot.

"Even Divine Beings need oxygen on the Material Realm. For when wearing their bodies they take on the base requirements of that form. You now have one question."

"NO!" Celestial piercingly echoed Nimbus's previous denial. "That question was not directed at you!"

Before the Voice could repeat its maddening Clause 219 mantra, Nimbus shouted, "Why is it important for the Fallen to steal the Book of Lore before the passing of three days?"

This time there was long period of silence, during which the Cherubs did not move or utter the slightest squeak. Finally the Voice responded.

"The knowledge in the Book of Lore includes the power of universal creation. And of ultimate annihilation. This information is strictly accessible to those who claim the Book. Ownership is granted to the one who reads the opening words of the Book as it stands on the Pedestal of Omniscience in the Chamber of Greats." If the message wasn't disconcerting enough, the Voice's quietening attitude forced it home.

"The good seek from it only enlightenment. But there are those who would use the information as an instruction manual. To undo. The Most High must remain in negotiations for three days before their return to the Ethereal Realm. The Fallen have three days in which to steal the Book and read the correct passage while it rests on the Pedestal, thus gaining the means of cosmic destruction to reign without end over chaos."

Celestial lost all colour and Nimbus felt as though he'd been trampled by Titans. It simply could not happen! His overwhelmed brain spewed forth questions; how could the Elders have been caught so unawares? If the Fallen were also obliged to be at the meeting how were Azazel, Jam and Ram slipping in and out? Most importantly of all -- how could he, Celestial and Bacchus fix it?

Yes, that was the crucial question! How to stop it? Nimbus's lips parted to form the pivotal words, when hysterical bird screeches, a thunderous bull's roar and desperate shouts came from the outer cave, accompanied by crashes, shattering terracotta and most disturbingly, rushing wind. Their friends were under attack and by the sounds of it, they were not on the winning side.

***

Chapter Five

Release the Hornets

"Wait! I was only kidding about the other questions. You each have two left! Don't you want to ask them? Come back! Don't leave me..."

The pleading Voice faded behind, as the Cherubs pelted towards the mayhem. Nimbus worried frantically that he would not be capable of assisting. His aim had been haphazard with an intact wing, what would his powers be like with the shrunken travesty he was hobbled by at the moment? He still suffered the ill-effects of Jinx's: his balance was off kilter and he was extraordinarily clumsy.

Sure enough, just as Celestial cleared the opening back into the Minotaur's lair and into definite danger, Nimbus tripped over an iguana and tumbled to the floor in a graceless heap. He struggled to gain purchase on the sandy ground, and hurl himself upright, as a stunningly bright flash of light temporarily blinded him.

An unearthly wail followed soon after, along with a cataclysmic tremor, which threatened to splinter the solid rock surrounding him. Rubble and dust hailed from the ceiling. The tunnel collapsed at his rear, huge boulders plummeting downward to form an impenetrable wall blocking access to the Cave of Unknowns. Then all was still. Compared to the furious calamity of a moment previous, the silence disturbed more. Nimbus, pushed by fear for his friends, eventually stood and hurried into the cave.

He was met with a sight of unimaginable weirdness. Hapless lizards, pot shards, gold coins, and more disconcertingly, many coloured feathers floated lazily about just below the cave roof. One of the Harpies attempted to pull an unconscious hovering Bacchus to a place on the ground more consistent with gravity. The other huddled miserably over her fallen sister.

The ruin and debris of the fight lay all around. The air smelt of charring and brimstone. Major Bull lolled weakly on a chair, tended by Celestial, who glowed and flickered like a thousand watt candle, tiny sparkles dancing into multiple deep and freely bleeding gashes as she healed his wounds. These would surely have been fatal had she not been present. Nimbus felt consuming shame creep through his veins like acid; what had he been doing during the battle? Grovelling on the floor like some worthless coward. Pity for himself set-in as he wondered bitterly why he had divine powers without the capacity to use them.

He stumbled over to Celestial. She looked up, her countenance one of absolute despair. "Azazel has the Book. We've failed." Shock mingled with his shame, and it was all he could do to remain on his feet and not crumple to the ground for a therapeutic sob. "At least you have your feathers back," Celestial noted without joy, tears flooding.

Nimbus shook off the now inadequate pillow case and there was his wing, as whole and magnificent as it had been before Jinx's. He shook off his ridiculous self-pity too; it was an indulgence he could ill afford. The sight of his twin in such pain galvanised his inner strength -- they must formulate a new plan.

"No tears, Celestial. You're better than that. We need to wake Bacchus and make another strategy," Nimbus stated firmly. "Don't you remember? Good always triumphs in the end because it never gives up!"

Celestial gave a pitiful sniff and nodded faintly. "I'll finish up here. You check on Bacchus."

Nimbus moved towards Bacchus and the struggling bird-woman some distance away, startled to hear a soft groan. It came from a mound of pebbles, which vibrated slightly. He cautiously went to investigate. All of their friends were accounted for. White feathers protruded in patches, along with expanses of skin. Suddenly the figure beneath sat, spitting and retching and vigorously shaking its head. Litanies of foul swear words stained the air and Nimbus knew immediately who this was.

The black eyes snapped open and instantly registered Nimbus's proximity. An evil leer stretched its features. Electricity crackled up Nimbus's spine and without thinking he spread his arms and opened his mouth wide. A deep rumbling wail from the very core of the world sounded and from between his lips came a savage swarm of buzzing blue wasps that rose in a twirling spiral, hung swelling in numbers and then plunged to encase Jomjael in a living prison.

"Hornets can sting repeatedly and have extremely bad tempers. The smallest thing can set them off causing a long and frenzied attack. You so much as move the wrong way and I can't be responsible for their actions."

Nimbus took in Jam's appearance: his hair, brows and wings were bleached starkest white, only his ebony eyes maintained their original form.

"Jinx, huh?" Nimbus chuckled. "I bet your mates aren't pleased. You look too much like us now and they won't relish having a constant reminder of the punishment their betrayal wrought. They left you behind!" The spiteful expression on Jam's face confirmed Nimbus's suspicion.

"Don't gloat, idiot! By the time my Brothers are through with you and your lot, you'll wish you were me!" The hornets hummed ominously louder, swirling faster and tighter around Jam, who blithely chuckled. "You don't know how to inflict pain. Bugs?" he scoffed. "We eat them for brunch with a little horseradish and crackers!"

"Your poor taste in cuisine aside, mine are special bugs, fool! When they sting, they inject love; something we know you cannot abide. And as an added incentive, you will hear the heavenly choir singing 'Praise to the Lord and Hallelujah', over and over in your marshmallow-filled skull! Enjoy!"

Jam was notably appalled. Nimbus clicked his fingers and heavy manacles snaked about his prisoner's ankles and wrists, with a gag to stop the torrent of vile curses.

"Oh, and by the way," Nimbus declared over the din. "You no longer have any Brothers."

"Nice job." Celestial smiled feebly, still occupied by the Major's injuries.

Nimbus had finally dragged Bacchus to her side, after a gargantuan struggle to wrest him to the ground. He would not have succeeded without Wren, who despite mourning the loss of her sister, Robin, jumped up and down on their Guardian's stomach until he fell unceremoniously on his head. There would be a painful bump and possibly the further loss of brain cells, which Bacchus could ill afford, but it couldn't be helped. Nimbus blushed at the praise (a new experience for him) and shrugged modestly, although on the inside he was strutting.

Bacchus stirred and slowly came to, coughing and spluttering. Celestial slapped his cheeks to speed the process (and possibly vent her spleen that he'd yet again let her down).

"Really m'dear, tha's noh necessessarary! Wha' happn?"

"Wake up! We have a catastrophe on our hands and you're napping!"

"Wouldn't 'xactly call concussion and recuperating from the wounds of war 'napping'." His voice became stronger and clearer as he gained full consciousness, along with an offended tone.

"Your head's sore because we dropped you on it," Nimbus provided helpfully.

"You were out cold for the entire thing. Major Bull's hurt and he's lost one of his Birds and it's our fault. We brought this scourge here! So sit up and help us find a way to make amends. Oh, and the Book of Lore has been taken. Azazel has it, and we have to get it back immediately!"

Bacchus bowed his head. "I am truly sorry for Bull's loss," he murmured tragically. And then began to laugh quietly to himself.

Nimbus was baffled by Bacchus's reaction. Perhaps he'd sustained worse brain damage than predicted? Nimbus prayed it wasn't permanent, and if it was, it didn't make a noticeable difference to their Guardian's usual impulsive behaviour. Regardless, he was nonetheless relieved to note Celestial was back to her usual severe self. He hastily recounted for Bacchus the results of their discussion with the insufferable Voice, and then turned to her.

"What happened, Essie?"

She eyed Bacchus warily, her fingertips glowing in readiness to mend him further, if required. "We'll need to ask Major Bull for a full account. I was only present for the last bit. Azazel was wreaking havoc with a tornado that slashed and tore at anything its winds touched. Yet still the brave Major, I think protected by his thick hide, was fighting to reach the demon. The Harpies were tossed on the gusts but managed to corner Ram, who was huddled over in agony. One of the little Birds lost the effort and was blasted against the wall." Celestial's face clouded with grief.

"It seems Ram copped a double dose from Jinx. He had noses and ears all over his body. For him, the noise and the frenzied screams of the birds must have been torture."

She stopped to take pleasure in the thought with an expression of dour satisfaction. Nimbus nodded, thinking that with Ram's exaggerated hearing the sound would have indeed been like knives slicing through his mind. Celestial continued, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Courageous Bacchus was already on the floor, having lost an encounter with ceramics." Bacchus sat sheepishly, peering up at them. "Azazel successfully summoned the Book and extricated Ram with a flick of his wrist."

Celestial drooped to a chair by the comatose Bull. "What are we to do?" she implored.

Bacchus chortled. "Have I told you about the time the Elders first approached me to act as your Guardian?"

Celestial was instantly irate. "This is no time for one of your stories!"

"Please my dear, humour me? It is very relevant to our current predicament." She acquiesced with a begrudging nod. "The Most High called me to a meeting at the Chamber of Greats. Naturally, having been down on my luck and involved in suspect dealings, I believed the worst."

Both Celestial and Nimbus were paying full attention. Bacchus rarely admitted fault in his own bad deeds and his narrative got to the point in an unexpectedly brisk manner.

"I was taken aback by their offer. Me, protect and teach the first young on the Ethereal Realm since time immemorial. The most precious Cherubim! To say I was puzzled by their choice is an understatement. I respectfully articulated the opinion my qualifications were, how shall we say, 'highly specialised', possibly inadequate for the appointed task. Frankly, I questioned their faith in my ability to be appropriately responsible for their cherished Fledgling Angels. It was one thing to exploit my own time in the universe, but quite another to jeopardise yours." He flourished a hand at Celestial and Nimbus.

"But Gabriel himself explained that there was no one more uniquely suited to the job. My skills at deception, thieving disposition and capacity to slip through even the tightest spots and more importantly, my capriciousness and lack of reliability would make it difficult to track our movements and anticipate our whereabouts at any given moment. In essence, my flawed character and less than reputable habits provide you not only with an ideal training ground for transcending the weaknesses of human action, but also a priceless form of security."

"Bacchus this is a wonderful tale and I'm thrilled the Elders view your shady tactics constructively." Celestial frowned resentfully, displaying that she was anything but thrilled. The disclosure one of the topmost Archangels had approved his appointment meant Bacchus would now be intolerable to live with, and worse still impossible to argue against. "But one of our own has been slain, the Book is gone, we have a Dark Angel in our midst and... Well need I go on? What has any of what you're saying got to do with now?"

"Hermes, Silenus and I have been selling bogus antiquities to the gullible Earth-bound, it's an absolute bonanza! Included amongst my list of goods are counterfeits of the Book of Lore," he announced triumphantly. He rushed on before Celestial could spark-up. "Azazel stole one of my fakes. I knew an ambush was on the Tarot cards and decided not to risk bringing the real version along as a precaution.

"The little detours we made prior to arrival were a deliberate ploy to conceal the Book elsewhere and bamboozle our pursuers. I do not imagine the deception will last for long, but we have merely to retrieve the Book and find a quiet hidey-hole in which to plan our next moves." He had a naughty glint in his eye. "Oh, and I forewarned Major Bull of our intentions and he agreed without hesitation, as did the Harpies. They feel any sacrifice is worthwhile in the fight against all-consuming evil."

Nimbus was ecstatic, and not just a little awed. "You sneaky old goat! It's Brilliant!" He was also jealous. Bacchus had effectively been granted sweeping permission to misbehave! "We could get the Book and hide under the Fallens' noses on the Ethereal Realm? They'd never expect us to do that."

"That is the stupidest idea in the history of humanity. A species that gave us the solar-powered flashlight, the helicopter ejector seat and the glass hammer!" Celestial said. "You'd deliver the Book straight to those Underworld ingrates if we were discovered. For once, I agree with Bacchus. According to the Voice of Unknowns all we need to do is conceal the Book for three days and take it home when the Most High have returned."

"You know, Celestial? It's been my experience if a thing sounds way too easy, it usually isn't!" Nimbus responded sulkily, stung by her insult. "Not to mention that your plan is precisely the one they'll expect."

"Be that as it may, are there any other options?"

"I believe so," came a hesitant reply from Major Bull, who strove to rouse himself and achieve the vertical.

"My comrade! It is a truly joyous relief to have you back," Bacchus said, as he ineffectually tried to hoist the Major up under the arms. "My sincere condolences for our dear friend's passing."

"Thank you, my good man. It would take more than a couple of loathsome coffin-haunters to subdue this old steer! We must determine the best way forward and then I need to tend to my Birds. Robin's departure is an unbearable blow." He swayed gently on his chair, his head momentarily lowered, before rallying. "Bacchus, are your Book forgeries upstairs?"

"Heavens no! If they were discovered I would be food for the dragons. Why St George persists at domesticating them, I will never know. Unruly beasts! I keep my supply secreted away in Thutmosis the Fourth's tomb in Egypt." He tapped the side of his nose like a common crook. Celestial's mouth pressed together razor-thin, and Nimbus could tell she was expending considerable energy on self-restraint.

"Split-up and distribute copies around the globe, then rendezvous at a place of sanctuary and wait it out. Retrieve the Book at the very last minute. Confuse the blighters with a well planned subterfuge, I say!"

"Excellent gambit! And I offer you my last flagon of vintage ambrosia. Raise a glass in Robin's honour for me. When our task is complete, I shall return poste haste to reimburse my debt and we shall celebrate her colourful and praiseworthy life in fitting style."

Bacchus sadly surrendered his only water-skin, releasing it reluctantly after gripping it for an overlong minute. Major Bull was clearly moved.

"I deem your liability repaid, as I know how much it costs you to cede such treasured bounty. May Divine Providence light your path," he said with a hand over his heart and then hobbled off to help the two remaining Harpies. Bacchus stared wistfully after his departing intoxicant.

"Bacchus fetch your books and we shall see to our unwelcome guest." Nimbus was pleased with this new plan and wasted no time putting it into action.

"Curse it!" Celestial exclaimed, as they headed towards Jam.

Nimbus halted in alarm. "What?!"

"I left my travelling hat back at Jinx's!"

"Yes, that is hugely upsetting." Nimbus was genuinely sympathetic. "I could really do with the comedy right now. You know, a good belly laugh always breaks the tension!" They were squabbling rowdily as they positioned to tackle Jam.

"You two could give the bad-tempered kitchen crones down below a race for their doubloons." Jam's scorn was evident, despite the gag.

He stared morosely at his feet and appeared to have given up all fight, until he made an explosive effort to escape, leaping upright to shuffle chain-bound towards the exit. The hornets were instantly upon him, dragging him down and stinging without mercy. He cried out in torment. Nimbus lent against the cave-wall and picked at his fingernails, observing the writhing, clamorous display with cool detachment.

"They're killing him!" Celestial ran to the twisting, screaming Jam.

"NO!" Nimbus moved too late to intercept her. "Celestial stop!"

But he could only stare helplessly. Celestial reached down through the biting mass, which parted for her hands and turned to sand on contact, the whole swarm collapsing harmlessly in seconds. She tore the choke from Jam's mouth and grasped him about the upper arms, shaking roughly.

"Jam! Jam! Come back to us," she called.

Nimbus sighed deeply and rolled his eyes in anticipation of the inevitable. Jam's lids parted sleepily and he gazed up at her with a mounting expression of total adoration.

"It's you! The beautiful statue living and breathing," Jam whispered, totally smitten. He opened his arms for a hug. "Cuddle me!" he begged sappily.

Celestial dropped him to the floor as though handling Bacchus's contraband, where the Dark Angel lay with a dreamily contented smile. Celestial stood quickly, rueful awareness spreading her face. She went slightly pasty.

Nimbus stepped to Celestial's side. "You thought my insects were going to kill him?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, staring vacantly ahead.

"Do you know what you've done?"

"M-Mmm."

"Join me my pretty toad and we can conquer the spineless mortals together." Jam winked coyly up at Celestial and beckoned her to a place lying beside him.

"I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from comment until his malady wears off. I made a mistake and it seems I will pay heavily for it."

Jam growled seductively like a big feline, patting a spot nearby. Celestial shrunk in on herself with humiliation.

"Let's just get on with our jobs and meet at Skylar's Spire in two hours."

"Agreed. Think of it this way, Celestial. At least now I've got something other than your hat to laugh about!" Oddly, she did not appear to gain consolation from Nimbus's kind sentiment. "I'll go north and take Casanova's homicidal cousin with me to spare you. You and Bacchus cover the rest."

Nimbus sensed Celestial's gratitude, but knew she was too traumatised to speak it aloud.

***

Chapter Six

Skylar's Spire

"You genuinely think such a childish plan will stop my Master in his mighty purpose? I pity your ilk and your infernal optimism," Jam taunted.

"And I pity your ilk for having to endure your relentless gibberish!" Nimbus said half-heartedly. "I can see why they abandoned you. They've probably been waiting for an excuse to dump you since you first learned to talk!"

After two hours of Jam's unceasing attitude and yap, Nimbus was fed-up. He might have preferred to combat ongoing bids for freedom or displays of sorcery instead of all the complaint. But, Jam seemed determined to reunite with Celestial and out of devotion to her had not lifted a hostile finger in revenge for his imprisonment.

He had in fact dogged Nimbus like some psychotic, wordy shadow as they deposited phoney versions of the Book throughout the northern reaches of Europe. There had only been a couple of minor incidents on their journey, one of which had nothing to do with Jam. Rather, it involved Nimbus and a close encounter with a spiny anteater. He was still jittery as a result. Jam amused himself for a while afterwards ridiculing Nimbus's fear of spiky animals, until accidentally letting slip that he was pathologically afraid of camels, which thereafter had a neutralising effect on any nature-inspired bullying.

The other event occurred early in the piece when Jam melodramatically sat at the point of the Eiffel Tower. He refused to budge and raved about missed opportunities in the City of Romance, his inability to continue without Celestial by his side, and other, more luridly descriptive topics. Nimbus vowed these would remain forever unmentioned, no threat capable of scaring the acts Jam described from his lips. Nimbus had no idea a body could accomplish such feats and shamefully resorted to promising an evening out with Celestial, if only Jam would move! Celestial would be less than delighted, Nimbus forced to swear an oath on his date pledge that would be difficult to weasel out of.

It was not just the constant stream of abuse either. Jam was a genius at grotesque body functions, which he indulged abundantly. Nimbus though it likely the black angel had befouled every location they'd visited, hacking and urinating his way across the globe. He resembled an obsessive-compulsive mongrel, marking its territory.

"I give you due warning. If you contaminate our final destination in any way, the creatures that live there will rip you apart and that's the best of it!"

"There is no threat you can make that will frighten me. I reside in the bowels of the Nether-World with beings so evil, you could not possibly conceive of them in your very worst nightmares. And then there's Azazel! When he catches you, he will make you pop and crackle like a grub on the griddle as a mere appetiser."

"Enough of this sword measuring contest. Mine's the longest by far! Grubs? That's truly gross," Nimbus said distastefully.

"No, that's dinner! And your sword's a plastic cafeteria-knife by comparison, not even sharp!"

"You eat grubs?" Nimbus asked, his curiosity piqued. "What do they taste like?"

They appeared on a massive glacier in the midst of an isolated frozen wilderness. A towering obelisk, delicately wrought in ice loomed over them. It glistened in shades of palest blue, shimmering as if a barely perceived oasis in the thin sunlight.

"Azazel says that eating worms reminds us of our lowly rank. They taste kind of like salty chicken. I wish I could be more specific. Apparently everything tastes like chicken. Where in the Devil's gall-bladder are we? I come from an arid climate, the temperature here is not good for my complexion. I do not want my beloved ferret to see me looking peaky!"

"Mark my words, you call Celestial a 'ferret' to her face and a patchy epidermis will be the least of your concerns."

"I like 'em feisty!"

Nimbus had to hand it to him, Jam certainly was persistent. "We are at Ellesmere Island in Canada, close to the North Pole. We're visiting some very dear friends. Queen Skylar of the Ice Nymphs and their Polar Bear Spirits."

Jam nodded knowingly. "I have heard of this snow witch. They say she is very powerful and commands the Aurora Borealis and all things winter. Her ghostly bears are fierce indeed! Her warrior's spears are made from Orca Ivory and have magical properties."

"Yes and if you label Skylar a witch again she will know it and freeze off the valued articles you so vividly referred to back in Paris. After she's done, if you have a sword left at all, it will resemble a thumb-tack."

A portly figure rambled out to greet them, a raised glass filled with a clear liquid in hand. "Nimbush my son, well met! Come join th' partayy. Eshel, eshelnt ... great liqueurs! Skylar brews them with her very own two hands!" Hiccough. "All welcome! Although... Shhh!" Bacchus raised a stray finger, aimed for his mouth and achieved his cheek instead. "Don't sing them folk songs. Seems to bring on bladder problems, all vacate for the lavatory at once! Bring your pal Lam." Bacchus screwed his face in bemused concentration. "No, no... Pram! Yesh, thas it! He can join the fun!"

Nimbus sighed stoically. "It appears you are the fun!"

Bacchus giggled and patted him affectionately. "That I am lad, that I am!"

Jam viewed Nimbus sympathetically. "Many of the imps in my world are often drunk and disruptive."

Bacchus wobblingly ushered them inside where they were greeted by Ice Maidens bearing beautifully wrought wreathes of crystal snow. They were clad in diamond and silver, with sparklingly frosted eyelashes and hair, their blue-tinged skin so pale as to be almost translucent. Every surface within the amazing castle twinkled and dazzled.

Two Nymphs stepped up to bestow Nimbus with a garland of intricate icicles, when Jam peeked timidly out from behind his back. On catching sight of Jam they let out long eerie screeches -- the sound of wind whistling over barren peaks. They dropped the ceremonial necklaces, which smashed in a tinkling crescendo, and then the entire court floated swiftly away, deserting their guests in the impressively ornate foyer.

Bacchus seemed instantly sober. "Bit of a wet blanket. Aren't you, Flan?"

"You didn't inform the Queen I was bringing Jam? Does Skylar even know what's going on or does she believe this to be a social call?" Nimbus addressed Bacchus as though a wayward, hard-of-hearing toddler, every word over-emphasised.

He received a mumbled response that could have included the words "wearied from travels", "welcoming hospitality", and "remarkable smorgasbord", but Nimbus did not require further elaboration. He wished Celestial was available to deliver a scathing rebuke. "Has Celestial made it back yet?" Jam was immediately attentive.

"Er, not as such," their Guardian said evasively. "But she cannot be far away. She did not have too many more books than I."

Before Nimbus could comment (it would not have been favourable), he noticed Skylar hovering at the top of the winding staircase. The majestic Queen soared serenely down to them, her shining filmy robes trailing her wake, her waist length silvery hair wafting about her radiant face. She stopped briefly in front of Nimbus to reverently kiss his forehead and proceeded passed him to Jam.

From within the folds of her gown she produced a frozen crystal ball, known as the Sphere of the Oracle, balancing it between them as she faced him. She cupped it in one hand and circled the other above it where a swirling mist became visible. The vapours increased, sinuous tendrils wrapping about Jam as he stood rooted apprehensively to the spot. Skylar entered a trance-like state, humming softly. Nimbus raised a cautioning finger, indicating that if Jam knew what was good for him, he would defy his natural urge to make trouble, stand still, and take his potion.

After a moment the Queen stirred, staring intently at Jam, and then slowly she gave him a saintly smile and bowed respectfully. She announced prophetically in a soft, lilting voice. "Darkness exists only in the absence of light, Jomjael of the Fallen. Be the moth to illumination and you shall be saved. Come most sacred youth, Nimbus. There is much to ponder. I entrust Jam's well-being to you, Bacchus, he is welcome in our halls."

"Don't forget to show him where the amenities are!" Nimbus hastily advised. "And carry napkins at all times!"

Jam wore a confused frown, his calls fading as Bacchus led him away. "Do I have to be the moth? How about Mont, the hawk-headed god of war? A death-raptor maybe? Can't I at least be the bald eagle or something a little more lethal? We eat moths for breakfast..."

Skylar turned her saintly visage to Nimbus and offered him her arm as they ascended the stairs to the highest glass-walled chamber with a panoramic view of the glacial tundra. Once they were seated and the attendants had left food and beverages, Nimbus impolitely breached formalities as his swelling worry burst free.

"Celestial has not returned! She's more efficient than Bacchus and I combined. She should have been here by now. Something bad has happened to her, I can feel it!"

"We shall see. Allow me to scry for her." The Queen retrieved her orb and set it on the table in front of them.

She lent down and a dainty diamond and filigreed pendant about her neck dangled over the softly glowing sphere. The jewel oscillated gently and Skylar closed her eyes to interpret the signals. A troubled expression crept over her face and her brows knitted with renewed focus. Eventually she sat back.

"All is obscured. The Ethereal Realm is shrouded by an impenetrable mist. I cannot distinguish Celestial. She is deliberately hidden, but I read grave danger coming nearer --" A loud boom broke her discourse.

"What was that?" Nimbus glanced around uncertainly.

"Something forbidden has forced its way onto our lands. Our defences have been penetrated."

Nimbus was too desolate to care; his Other was missing and in peril. He did not know where his dearest Celestial was, let alone how to help her. This felt far worse than the loss of his wing due to feather-rot. Their efforts to throw Azazel off would come to nought if Celestial had been taken. She would make a most effective ransom, as she was worth so much more than the Book. The Queen issued psychic commands to her troops, but Nimbus grieved, oblivious of the turmoil of activity about him.

"It comes!" Skylar announced.

She grasped Nimbus about the elbow and teleported him to a wide balcony, overlooking the entrance to the ice palace. They positioned at the balustrade in front of a line of Snow Warriors standing at rigid attention. Bacchus typically loitered at the opposite end of the terrace, next to the laden banquet tables, as though preparing to resist any challenges to his culinary children.

A hyper-vigilant Jam fidgeted next to him. Beneath them two black figures could be detected approaching across the wide white expanse. They stopped at a distance in front of the castle and Nimbus could now make them out by squinting through the frigid haze. It was a Dark Angel accompanied by some huge monstrosity straining on its lead and clawing the air. Mad snarls echoed over the valley and a gag-inducing stink assailed their nostrils.

"I come for my brother!" a supernaturally amplified voice rumbled forth. "Release him and we will return to our kingdom."

This would not be ideal: Jam knew too much about their intentions. He stepped to the edge. It was clear to Nimbus he was torn between staying for Celestial (he did not know she was lost) or leaving with Ram, for that's who had brazenly entered Skylar's dominion uninvited. He was no longer disadvantaged by extra ears and noses. To add to his menace, Ram erupted into blood-red flame. The snow at his feet hissed and released plumes of steam, which hung about him in an ill-omened cloud. He caught sight of Jam staring down at him, as did the hideous beast which whined in acknowledgment and began a deformed dance, its back end and long barbed stinger writhing from side to side. Ram struggled to keep it under control.

Nimbus was struck by sudden recognition; it was the slavering three-headed Hell Hound. The beast guarded the gates of the Underworld against convicted shades trying to get out and mortals that did not yet belong (not that anyone alive ever tried to break-in of their free-will). Nimbus could not believe it, the thing was happily wagging its tail for Jam.

"Go home, Ram! The rest will not have me like this! They'll kill me if I come back with you," Jam shouted.

Ram's face lit up. "I searched the inner circles of Dis and found a Hollywood stylist to dye your hair and feathers until the curse wears off. Don't worry! He's really good at what he does. He's only down with us because he sowed discord. Too much cruel gossip. Besides, we're winning, Jam! Azazel has the statue girl and we can trade her for the Book!"

Nimbus gasped; his worst fears were true! His stomach constricted for Celestial. At Ram's admission a change came over Jam. He immediately made to leap over the balcony and join his rescuer, wings spread wide in readiness to flee. At the same time, Ram's great black dog broke free, galloping towards Skylar's home. Many events crashed together at once.

A low gong sounded from somewhere deep within and the ice structure groaned alarmingly. Twelve massive snow white Bears materialised in an impassable ring below them at the foot of the palace walls. They roared deafeningly and Nimbus covered his ears. The Bears marched shoulder-to-shoulder making an unstoppable beeline for the recklessly charging dog, which was too ferocious or too stupid to halt its course. Ram's hands blazed and he launched huge fireballs at the oncoming bears. His pyrotechnics glancing harmlessly off their dense fur to fizzle in puddles of rising fog.

"Buttercup here! Here dog, here!" Ram called urgently.

Bacchus lunged for Jam just as he was airborne, grabbing a handful of feathers to haul him from the railing back onto the tiles, where he pinned the escapee with a foot. As their Guardian completed this highly coordinated manoeuvre, moving faster than Nimbus imagined possible, he used his free hand to grapple with a large platter of meat, tossing it as though a discus back over the dog and over Ram's head. The spinning plate dropped roast beef as it hurtled through the atmosphere and the dog spun to follow the delicious treats, running by its still shouting owner and gobbling the edible trail as it went.

The Polar Bears halted their progression, facing down a now magnificently outclassed Ram, who had no choice but to admit defeat and pursue his rebellious pet, running pell-mell. As the risk declined, the Bears faded slowly into the snow and all went silent. Bacchus could be heard scuffling with Jam, who fought violently to break out of his grip.

"A little help!" The spear carrying soldiers encircled Bacchus to subdue Jam, who panted with exertion like the giant dog. The enchanted spears prevented him from activating his powers.

"LEMME GO!" he thundered.

Puffing heartily, red-faced and sweating, Bacchus disentangled himself with difficulty. "Throw the heathen in the brig for necessitating that appalling waste of splendid nosh!"

"After I'm done with him!" Nimbus propelled himself into the circle and pounced on Jam, who was caught unawares. His fist connected wrenchingly with Jam's chin, making an audible 'crack'. He achieved another nose-blooding blow before Skylar's disapproval could be heard above the commotion.

"Enough! Brawling like some common street urchin in the gutters is not befitting one of your stature, Nimbus! Rise at once and collect your dignity. There is much to do! We must save Celestial."

The Queen flicked her head, instructing her company and they jumped, separating to carry out her bidding. Quivering with suppressed rage, Nimbus rose slowly, glaring mutinously down at Jam. Jam glowered contemptuously back, wiping his bleeding nose and adjusting his displaced jaw.

"You will pay for that," he whispered venomously.

"Not as much as you, if anything happens to Celestial!" Nimbus warned darkly.

Jam crumpled. "She is my beloved too," he cried pathetically. "I am doomed in her absence and suffer torture worse than punishment for the Seven Dire Virtues!"

Nimbus felt like booting him hard in exasperation while no one was watching, but pity won the day and he thrust out his hand to grudgingly pull his hopeless adversary to his feet. The satisfaction he felt at generating his hornets had well and truly dissipated and he wondered when their infatuating effects would wear off. Not soon enough!

"Well then, that makes you on our side. We shall need your help," he said tersely through gritted teeth. He reached out to Jam's smashed face. Jam recoiled and stepped backwards.

"Hold still, idiot! My aim is not the best and I can't be blamed if you move and I explode an eyeball!" Nimbus touched Jam's broken, streaming nose, his fingertips alight, and fixed the damage he had inflicted to the underlying bones.

Jam smiled placidly. "That is most soothing! I have not experienced such a pleasant sensation before."

"Yeah, well don't get too used to it!" Nimbus muttered.

Skylar and Bacchus (who'd managed to find replacements for the food he'd lost and was chomping on a banana sized prawn, dripped mayonnaise staining his robes), observed approvingly.

Bacchus's voice was muffled by a mouthful of seafood. "I think finesse is called for, my good son. There will be time for vengeance when the Most High return."

***

Chapter Seven

The Plan

"Well, at least we know they haven't found the Book. There would be no need to take Celestial otherwise," Bacchus said grimly.

Nimbus paced Skylar's parlour, paying little heed to the brilliant vista below, nor the discussions of those around him. He stopped suddenly and addressed Jam, who was squeezed glumly between two severe-looking soldiers.

"How did Azazel find Celestial? How did you locate us at the Cave of Unknowns?"

"It is one of my gifts. I can track anything, supernatural or otherwise. Without me they would have used Buttercup, although she is not ideal as she is in the habit of eating the target and can be easily distracted. We do not let her out much as she is very hard to control, except by Azazel. Although she wanders Vulcan's Forge at night."

Bacchus shot upright. "And how can we be sure this wretched fiend has not made a meal of our precious Celestial? Hercules should have killed the brute when he had the chance!"

"Celestial's alive; I would feel it otherwise," Nimbus said dully.

Jam added, "Azazel is not so foolish as to be frivolous with the life of a Sacred. Your Archangels would perceive such an act of bloodshed, even while inhabiting the Chasm of Doom, and his plans would be revealed. Above all, he would not want this to happen and so will keep her safe while she is needed."

"The Ethereal Realm is heavily cloaked against the Sphere of the Oracle. It would seem they do not wish us to pierce their veil of secrecy. Therefore, Celestial is imprisoned on our own plane," Skylar said. "The balance rests with the Fallen. We need to tip it back in our favour and in so doing, alert the Elders of our plight."

The seed of a plan sprouted in Nimbus's mind. "What does Azazel cherish most?"

"He has a priceless gargoyle collection. But stealing this for ransom would be impossible," Jam replied astutely. "It is heavily guarded as there have been many attempts to burglarise it. Azazel has bewitched the statues themselves to shriek loudly if they are moved from his vault, which is protected by many enchantments. Also, if successful in capturing a single gargoyle, each is encumbered by a vile and unique curse.

"When he was younger and too ignorant to know better, Ram tried to take the tiniest, jade scorpion figurine, which is what he became as his hand touched it. Azazel left him trapped in green stone for a whole month as penalty for his heedless curiosity. He was regularly stung by his own stinger as a convincing prevention. In this he was considered blessed, in comparison to the host of other possible afflictions. There is one thing only that Azazel prizes more.

"Buttercup!" Bacchus sighed loudly in disbelief. "Talk about your Morton's Fork."

"I am unfamiliar with this Fork," Jam said. "Is it like Lucifer's infernal prodding stick?" Skylar's attendants hissed at the mention of the Supreme Fallen's name.

"The choice between unpalatable alternatives. In summary, we can voluntarily enter the Underworld to pilfer a bunch of unpinchable, grotesque statuettes that are likely at the very least to bestow the flesh-eating pox. Or, nick a savage Hell-Hound with lion's feet, a mane of serpents and the tail of a viper, not to mention a vicious jaw full of dagger-sharp teeth! Sounds like my sort of plan!"

"You forgot Buttercup's deadly-poisonous spit," Jam supplied helpfully. "And the fact that Azazel must be acting on the orders of those more superior to him. He will not dare trade Celestial against their wishes, regardless of whether you have his pet, his gargoyles, his accursed opal crown that steals youth if you handle it and his horrid girlfriend, Ekidna, combined!"

Jam shuddered in repulsion at this half female with a long slithery tail in the place of legs. "The woman is high-maintenance and deranged at best. She breathes fire and noxious fumes at the drop of a loin cloth, would slice you into cutlets with her talons in the flash of a ghoul's temper and don't bother going near her around egg-laying time or your life is cinders!

Nimbus mirrored Jam's shivered reaction at the mention of Ekidna's name. But not for the same reason. An echidna was very much like a hedgehog, although he knew that Jam was referring to a monstrous female dragon (in Nimbus's opinion, less scary than the yucky little mammal christened after her). She was responsible for generating many of the hideous beasts that plagued both Gods and mortals alike and was probably the one that gave Azazel Buttercup. Jam really did hang with a nasty crowd.

"We only need to hold them off for one more day!"

Suddenly a deep sinister voice resonated throughout the spire. "I Azazel, have your hallowed Cherub!"

Skylar rose in outrage. That Azazel would dare endanger Celestial was unacceptable, as was his corruption of her pristine world. An unsettling breeze whipped about her as she sought in vain to direct her magic against his wicked source. The Queen's attendants glanced fearfully from between fingers shielding their frightened faces.

"You will present the Book within two hours or I will strip the Cherished of her wings and hurl her from the Heavens! If you disobey me in any way, our pretty is taking a dive without feathers! Send only the other Most Sacred."

The warriors were forced to restrain Jam, who'd leaped to his feet. "You won't. You can't! The Overlord of the Dead will have your gizzards to tie his girdle!"

But Azazel was in no mood for debate and had vanished. Nimbus stood affixed to the spot, his countenance harsh, fists balled tightly. Bacchus anxiously blotted his brow with his spare sash, all thoughts of feasting banished from his mind. He very much looked as if he could use a stiff drink. Nimbus, desperate and frantic, considered asking for himself. He couldn't think straight with a whirling miasma of fear clouding his mind.

"Do something!" Jam thrashed against his captors. "There is no time and I don't believe Azazel is acting on any authority!"

"You just said he was. What's changed?" Nimbus squinted suspiciously. "How do you know he's not bluffing?"

Jam answered reluctantly, apparently breaking a vow of secrecy. "Because... Even where I come from there are ordained rules or we face absolute obliteration. Our existence maintains the cosmic balance and the Great Hades would never overtly jeopardise our position or our safety. We can indulge in mischief and rightfully gain power only by abiding by these laws. Wilfully murdering a Sacred without provocation is the worst offence and would curse my Brethren to certain death without mercy in the meanest Halls of Tartarus. It is not an idle threat to make!"

Bacchus nodded in the background. "Jam is correct." He quoted a memorised verse from the Book of Lore. "All shall abide the Holy Order as dictated by the Essential Tapestry of Existence or endure annihilation in the Eternal Fires of Divine Fury."

Nimbus had never heard of this Essential Tapestry, but his curiosity was tempered by their need to find a suitable strategy of attack. He would ask about embroidery later, preferably when no one else listened.

"All right. So the universal playground has regulations and it looks as though the wonderfully crackers Azazel is being very disobedient and could use a few hundred years in the naughty chair! How can we use this information to..." Nimbus paced while he listed their goals. "Rescue Celestial, alert the Elders in the bowels of Hell, who I must say have sorely let us down up to this juncture, keep the Book from Mr Cuckoo. And that should do for the current roster of impossible jobs! How does one even get into the Shadowlands?"

Bacchus took a steadying breath. "I was a restless sort in my youth and travelled widely, both the known and unknown kingdoms." Nimbus rolled his eyes; this was no time for a long-winded story. Bacchus ignored him. "I have been to the Pits of Despair and I remember the path well. I will go and rouse the Gods from their ignorance of our plight. If I succeed in the first, my last shall be to bring back Buttercup as added insurance."

Nimbus' mouth dropped in awe. The admission Bacchus had been to the Underworld placed their Guardian on a level with the legendary Hercules, who had flouted his own mortality in Hades to battle Buttercup bare-handed, as part of his Twelve Labours.

"But I cannot go unprepared. I will need to gather certain supplies that in themselves may prove tricky to acquire, especially given we have a scant period in which to do so. My usual supplier, Osanyin the African God of herbs and plants is obviously not available. We need to split up. Nimbus you will go and see the witch Circe --"

"What! I heard she turned Odysseus's men into swine! Cronus knows what she'll do to me if I get on the wrong side of her!"

Jam observed this exchange with mute interest. "If I dared challenge a superior, transformation into a pig would be the least of my worries."

Nimbus ignored him. "You know I'm not good at networking! I'm not a people-person Angel."

Bacchus stared blandly at Nimbus. "While I visit Hermes's cousin Mercury. He has a particular item which will prove invaluable."

"Why can't I go and get this... Thing?"

"Because," Bacchus explained patiently, "Circe and I had a little falling out a few centuries back and she has a very long memory. It's a funny story actually. Remind me to tell you about it when this all ends for the best. Since, if the outcome is not positive we won't exist, of course! Best not to let slip you're associated with me."

He winked reassuringly. It didn't work: Nimbus remained utterly un-reassured.

"Besides, Mercury will have precautions against infiltrators and only I will be cunning enough to disable them. Meet me at Vulcan's Forge in an hour with these provisions."

Bacchus magicked a list and handed it to Nimbus, who snatched it irritably to survey the contents. Fern seed, Crowquill, Antimony, Essence of Void. Many of the other words on it were long and complex and Nimbus was quite sure he could not pronounce them, let alone understand their purpose.

"And what will we be doing while you're gallivanting through the Abyss of Despair?" Nimbus asked testily.

"Gallivanting?" Bacchus puffed up. "You know not what you speak of, impudent whelp!"

Of course Bacchus was right. A descent to the pit was cause for dread, even for the Most Divine. But stressful situations brought out the worst in Nimbus. Celestial always lectured him to 'stop behaving in such a self-absorbed manner' (she felt it best to condemn the action not the person). What Nimbus would not give for one of those sermons face-to-face right now.

"Sorry."

"Are you not the Chosen?" Bacchus retorted. "Feel free to use your imagination and offer suggestions at any point! Truly, Nimbus, it is time you stepped from your sister's shadow. This is an opportunity to reveal the greatness hidden within." It had been so well hidden to this point, Nimbus had never been able to find it. He held slim hope of it appearing.

Skylar spoke, "I will make offerings to the Polar Star for your safe passage. I have bequests to assist you in your trials."

She gave a regal wave and three of the same ladies-in-waiting from the foyer at their arrival swept into the room. Each was endowed with a silver cushion.

"First, for you, Nimbus." The Snow Queen indicated to collect his gift as the courtesan presented it-- a soft velvety grey glove (didn't he warrant a pair?). "This glove will allow you to touch that which is untouchable."

Then Skylar herself produced a small vial on a chain filled with beautiful ice crystals, which she placed around Nimbus's neck. He was not one for jewellery and felt foolish wearing it.

"Rub the glass, Nimbus, and feel the cool breeze from my lands wherever you are."

Nimbus made an inadequate effort at gratitude, bowing wordlessly, which would have earned him a swift arrow-poke from Celestial. He missed her sorely, although admittedly it had given his butt time to recuperate.

The next was Jam who received an unwieldy hat, fussily adorned with sparkly dancing pixies and flowers that went from bud to bloom and back again repeatedly. He hesitantly arranged it on his head, appearing as though he'd tipped the contents of a young girl's toy box over himself. The hat began to snow; dainty intricately geometric flakes settling on Jam's bare shoulders, while he sat blushing and bashful. In Nimbus's opinion he looked utterly ridiculous and although he would never admit it aloud, this was the stupidest gift he'd ever seen -- even worse than a single useless glove! Nimbus refrained from guffawing with great difficulty.

Skylar laughed softly, a sound not unlike trickling water. "It is for you to give, Jomjael, not keep for yourself. It will help you with your heart's desire. It compresses when not in use and you merely have to wish for it and it will reappear. For the rest you are ably equipped, even if you know it not."

She turned to Bacchus. "My dearest friend, for you the Horn of the Host. Blow it once when you reach your destination and only the Most High will take note. Blow it thrice and my bears are at your command. And for your perils in the Shadowlands, I give you a bottle of my best liqueur to fire your courage and ease your angst."

"These are most worthy gifts!" Bacchus beamed. "Infinite gratitude, Your Magnificence!"

Nimbus secretly thought that Bacchus was happiest about the booze, but again he prudently held back comment. Skylar smiled tranquilly and waved from the balcony as the three headed out onto the gleaming plain.

"Where does Circe live?" Nimbus asked.

"An island called Aiaia near Italy, which is quite handy as our final meeting place is on Mt Etna."

Jam nodded. "Vulcan's Forge is the passageway into my realm. But it is heavily fortified against those who do not belong and will be difficult to breach."

"Leave it to me lad, I have my ways!" Bacchus said.

"The more immediate issue is getting into Mercury's room on the Ethereal Realm. How are you going to do that with Azazel there? He'll be waiting for me and watching," said Nimbus, as they progressed to the furthest reaches of Skylar's lands.

"I'm going to disregard protocol on this occasion and materialise directly onto Mercury's front porch. Azazel is not Argus of One Hundred Eyes and will not be able to watch every single portal. With a bit of luck I can slip in and out before he even realises I'm there. Should be as easy as Zeus deceiving his jealous wife Hera!" Bacchus clicked his fingers and grinned confidently.

Nimbus experienced a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Echoes of his previous words to Celestial, "when things seemed easy they usually aren't" rocketed to consciousness. He had been right last time and they now found themselves in this mess. It was not a good point to finally get correct!

***

Chapter Eight

Acquiring the Herbs

Nimbus miscalculated his landing and rematerialised on the edge of a small pebbly hill. He promptly lost balance and toppled over the side, causing a minor landslide that brought shale and grit down on his head, when he finally landed in a dirty disgruntled heap at the bottom.

Jam glanced over the side. "Are you injured?"

"You mean aside from wounded pride," Nimbus grumbled as he slowly got to his feet. He patted his robe, sending dust clouds to the sky. "No, I'm not hurt. Thanks for the concern!" he replied loudly.

"I was not asking out of sympathy, just checking to ensure you are alive to hear me laughing hysterically! Would you like me to make you a chart next time?"

"I had no idea the Underworld could produce such comic genius!"

"Laughter is the single leisure we are allowed. And it must be rationed. Such freedom to express it at will is a gift beyond measure."

The reminder of how many things he took for granted, did not improve his mood. Nimbus scrambled crab-like up the gritty mound. Eventually he joined a smirking Jam at the top and they picked their way through the arid scrubland, avoiding scraggy bushes with long noxious-looking thorns that dripped an awful smelling substance. They were making for the centre of the island, where Circe lived, according to Bacchus.

"That is the paralysis plant. If you prick yourself on its spines you will become immobile for two days. Beneath its roots lives a colony of carnivorous ants that respond to the vibrations on the ground as you fall, and come looking for dinner. They take nutrients from the dead below to feed the living of their kind and nourish the roots of the shrub. It is a perfect symbiotic relationship ... and a very agonising way to die! We have fields of those at home."

"Charming!" Nimbus muttered, giving the horrid trees an even wider berth. "It's not so symbiotic for the one eaten alive."

"It is a lesson in vigilance."

The place was creepy. At regular intervals, bleached animal skeletons dotted the landscape with strange runes and symbols etched onto the bone, their vacant eye sockets and wasted sneers a grim warning to stay away. Leathery skins from a large scaly reptile Nimbus did not recognise were draped over some of the gaunt leafless trees, offering scant shade in a hideous imitation of umbrellas. The unrelenting sun beat upon them and even though, technically, Nimbus didn't need to drink, he felt parched in the merciless heat. A ramshackle hut came into view and did nothing to ease his anxiety.

"Nice!" Jam commented, glancing around appreciatively.

Chained to four crooked posts supporting the rickety veranda were animated versions of the skins they'd seen. Nimbus shuddered; they belonged to large Monitors with two stubby legs where only one should have been, making a total of eight to heighten its lightening burst of speed on the hunt. Two forked tongues slipped in and out of its crushing jaw and tasted the air for new prey. Each reptilian head had three beady eyes, one sat higher on its forehead, which stared greedily in Nimbus and Jam's direction, as they cautiously approached.

"Assault lizards, how cute," Jam exclaimed.

Nimbus gave Jam a wary sideways glance -- he was clearly mentally unhinged. The door of the shack flew open and a screaming harridan propelled herself at them, wild grey hair flying about her head, grimy robes askew. "Get out of here! You are trespassing on private property! Don't force me to release my pets!"

Nimbus raised his hands in surrender. "We come in peace!" he called lamely.

"That's what they said to the Indians and look what happened to them!" Circe moved over to the lizard closest to them. It enthusiastically strained against its tether, growling and hissing in anticipation of flesh-yielding sport.

"You can jump in at any point!" Nimbus irritably urged Jam.

"Don't worry, it will be quick if it gets you!" Jam seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Is that supposed to be encouraging? You obviously failed supportive counselling for those about to be torn to shreds and digested in the belly of a monster!"

"Stay still you stupid worm!" The Witch struggled to free the writhing beast. "It's too hot in the middle of the day to be exercising! I'm working up a powerful sweat!" It was true. Nimbus could smell her from where he stood and wrinkled his nose.

Jam abruptly presented by her side. "Please, allow me to assist you."

She stopped trying to undo the lead and gaped at Jam. Nimbus knew it! The Devil's Spawn was not to be trusted. How could he have been so gullible? He readied to flee, herbs or no herbs. Jam succeeded in untying the leash and the abomination of a lizard sprang loose. But instead of charging at Nimbus it spun and jumped up onto Jam, placing its claws on his chest and feathering his face with its tongues. It spasmed strangely and Nimbus realised, that like Buttercup, the thing was gleefully wagging its tail. Jam laughed and patted the scaly beast's armour-plated head. He apparently had a special way with gruesome creatures.

"Who are you!" Circe demanded.

"Down!" Jam commanded and the monitor dropped to its stomach and grovelled pathetically on the ground at his feet. "I am Jomjael of the Fallen. At your service, Madam." He gallantly kissed her hand and her cheeks flushed girlishly. "My friends call me Jam."

"You sure do have a way about you, Jam." She smiled coyly and batted her eyelashes. Jam beamed smugly over her shoulder at Nimbus and winked. Jam apparently had a special way with temperamental elderly hags too!

Nimbus sighed in disbelief. Jam would be impossible now. He tramped over to them. The lizard rumbled menacingly, raising its head in the hope of a meal.

"Watch it, sonny! Undoubtedly you don't have Jam here's talent."

"Yes, he sure is full of 'talent'!" Nimbus mocked. "I'm Nimbus and we'd like to make a purchase please, if possible."

"Not so fast, sonny." She paid no more than bare attention to Nimbus. She was all for Jam. "Don't have visitors too often and I'll be expecting you to take tea with me 'afore we barter. Come and sit a spell, while I pretty up."

Nimbus thought miserably this would definitely take quite some time. She gazed seductively at Jam.

"You are as pretty as a fresh young maiden, my exquisite Circe!" he said.

Nimbus felt instantly nauseous and discreetly searched for a vessel to vomit in. He didn't know how, but it was the sentiment that counted. They entered her home and seated themselves on the moth-eaten couch. Nimbus looked around the grungy room with all manner of gross shrivelled rodents and pungent branches hanging from the ceiling to cure. He pleaded with the Fates he was not required to eat anything, possibly facing a Monitor the better option. It appeared tame enough, with its ugly head resting on Jam's lap like a travesty of a puppy, but Nimbus was not willing to risk a finger to test his theory.

"So, we've dumped Celestial already, huh?" Nimbus goaded in a whisper, thinking perhaps his hex had finally worn off.

"It's an act, you moron! I have only one true beloved and am loyal to her for as long as I live!" Jam snapped. Nimbus was sorely disappointed.

A tantalising scent assailed their nostrils and both inhaled deeply. At the doorway Circe emerged, a vision of perfection with waist-length silken black tresses, smooth shining olive skin and an amply endowed figure, clothed in a filmy, flowing gown. Her face was the most beautiful Nimbus had ever seen, not counting his own. Both he and Jam were instantly lovesick.

She floated over and demurely perched herself between them, an immaculate porcelain tea set materialising on the table in front. Circe reached over and poured each a tiny cupful of the aromatic brew. In her enchanting company, Nimbus's worries faded away. He wanted to stay here always with this intoxicating goddess. His dreamy expression was reflected on Jam's face, who gazed reverently at their host. She flourished a hand gracefully, indicating they should retrieve their drinks. As Nimbus bent over to do so, Skylar's pendant fell into view.

Circe caught sight of it in her peripheral vision and lost interest in Jam, who slumped over in a neglected coma. Less competition, Nimbus reflected contentedly. The Witch focused on Nimbus.

"That is a beautiful charm you wear," she said, pressing herself closer.

Nimbus got goose bumps. "Look what it does!" he gushed like a flattered schoolboy, trying to impress.

He grasped Skylar's gift, its chilly smoothness beneath his touch. Nimbus awoke as though slapped, but Circe was too entranced by the trinket to notice. Their vital mission came flooding back to his mind. He blinked and the fawning, glamorous nymphette next to him returned to her true form: a hideous and conniving ancient crone with missing teeth and steel wool hair, whose intentions were less than savoury.

Nimbus pretended he was still under her spell. He gave Circe his broadest smile and rubbed the amulet. A cool refreshing wind rustled softly through the room, like Nirvana in the claustrophobic heat of the island. Circe turned her face to the breeze and closed her eyes in relief. He paused, noting Circe's increasing disappointment as his weather transformation grew fainter and cloying warmth dominated, once again.

"Bring it back!" she ordered.

"Do not be upset attractive lady," he soothed. "It is simply a matter of rubbing the vial."

"Do it! Do it!" she shrieked. In the periphery, Jam twitched violently and roused from his enthralled slumber to gaze around in confusion.

"I offer you the amulet in exchange for the goods on this list," Nimbus said loudly, hoping Jam would not blow their only advantage. The Dark Angel radiated outrage, whether at being duped by this impostor or mortified that he could so easily stray from his beloved, Nimbus could not guess.

"Give it to me." She gestured impatiently, nails as yellow as ram's horn.

Circe checked the list and left the room, as did the hypnotic fragrance and any lingering vestige of her allure. In front of them on the table, replacing the false version of the petite crockery, sat a bubbling cauldron, its fetid contents plopping and spitting. Bile rose in Nimbus' throat at the realisation were it not for Skylar, they might have drunk the gloop. Maybe she'd hang them from the roof to desiccate over centuries, plucking their eyeballs to flavour her stew. He vowed never to criticise the Queen's gifts again.

"'Loyal to her for as long as I live,' I believe were the words!" Nimbus murmured in Jam's ear. The lizard hissed dangerously and he had a most satisfying image of tipping the boiling sludge over the beast.

Jam looked desperately ashamed. "It was a minor lapse! I cannot be held accountable for that old Witch's wiles! Please, do not tell Celestial of my dishonour. I beseech you!"

"Holy scroll. Get a grip. I was only joking."

Jam had no chance to answer. Circe returned toting many small satchels fastened with string. She plonked them into his lap and Nimbus gathered them together and secreted them securely in the folds of his robe.

"Thank you! Stories of your legendary skill in the botanical arts are not inflated!"

Nimbus stalled, while he tried to figure out how to leave without invoking her ire. The witch resituated between them, indicating with a toothless grin it was time to drink their 'tea' -- a highly unappetising proposal. She held out her hand to collect Nimbus's pendant in payment for the herbs.

"I wonder if you might check the list once more. The pleasure of your company will be so much sweeter when I am assured our business is complete." Nimbus rubbed the cooling vial to allay her temper. She reluctantly complied, squinting to inspect the list closely. Suddenly, Circe's interest heightened.

"I know the undeserving hand that tracked this ink across parchment!" Blotches of florid colour marred her cheeks as her voice gained volume. "That scabrous leech. That devious double-dealing parasite!"

Uh-oh! Bacchus and his skulduggery, always blowing back on others.

"May he rot in the bowels of the colossal crab that scavenges the cess pits of the lowest dungeons!" He couldn't agree more. "You dare come here on an errand for Bacchus?" she screeched.

"The very one who stole my father Helios's golden chariot to drunkenly joy ride the skies, running into a comet and dinting the fender!" Circe raved hysterically. "I was blamed for the damage and grounded for an entire season. I missed the summer solstice ball! I had to pay the Smith-God Hephaestus a small fortune in repair bills. And Bacchus took my sister to the celebrations!"

The Monitors outside could be heard howling and pulling frantically at their bonds as her shouts amplified, unstable posts creaking against the strain. It was definitely time for the Angels to make their leave. Nimbus rose inconspicuously, while the Witch was busy ranting and inched bit by careful bit towards the door.

"As if that was not sufficiently rotten! That leprous bilge-rat sold me a batch of bad newts at an exorbitantly inflated price during the universal shortage."

Circe seemed to be lost in furious recollection, yelling more to herself than those present. It was the opportune time to exit and Nimbus made a 'move it' face at Jam, who was furthest from the door, blanketed by a lizard. Jam grimaced back 'how?', to which Nimbus shrugged 'be creative'. Jam hoisted the Monitor under his arm and edged around the low-lying table.

Circe added waving arms to her rant. The lounge creaked under the onslaught, springs popping, as she ventured into the past.

"Bac-arse blamed the solar eclipse for the scarcity. Didn't appease my father though, when I told him spoiled newt was the problem, after accidentally turning his prized Ebony Sphinx into a mewling white house cat! Was it my fault my Centipede Python was hungry and swallowed the dumb kitten? Who likes cats anyway? Except for those fickle Egyptians? AND NOW I'M EXILED ON THIS WRETCHED SPIT OF SAND!"

Her head snapped up and she glowered wickedly at the sight of Nimbus and Jam tiptoeing out the door. She stood and raised her hands. They grew to huge proportions, arced lightening crackling and fizzing about the room from her elongated talons. Circe's voice crashed behind them.

"Bacchus the goat will receive his penance when I turn his friends into toejam and send them to reside in suffocatingly intolerable foot odour under the nails of Magog the Giant!"

"Fly!" Nimbus yelled, not wasting a backwards glance as he spread his wings and hurled himself airborne from Circe's home.

He soared rapidly skyward, concentrating on listening for the whoosh of Jam following, perceiving no evidence of flapped pursuit. He risked a glimpse over his shoulder. Beneath was utter mayhem. Jam sprinted across the clearing in front of Circe's home, the façade of which disintegrated, as her brutes tore the supporting beams down and ran after the fleeing Angel. When Jam cleared the turmoil, just as the first of the lizards snapped at his heels, he jumped and shot into the air, leaving them rabidly circling and baying in his wake.

Circe could be heard roaring from under the ruins of her hut. After a mighty bellow she broke through the debris, her contorted face evident. Lightening bolts started spot fires in the wood of her destroyed shack, setting fire to her hair so that it flamed like a match, extinguishing to leave her scalp with alternate clumps of smouldering melted hair and charred bald patches. She spat and swore at them as they fled. It would be quite a while before she could again convincingly play the attractive vamp to trap the unsuspecting.

Jam triumphantly whooped up to Nimbus. "You really know how to have fun! That was great!"

"What is that under your arm?" They made for a suitable place to disappear. He felt as though he was turning into a less effective copy of Celestial with all the nagging he was forced to do in her absence. Nimbus was glad they were finally on the way to getting her back. His appreciation for her particular talents grew by the second. "Well?"

"Maybe I was over generous with the fun tag," Jam commented. "The female humans are in the silly habit of carrying animals in their designer handbags. Ugly hairless guinea pigs. I think, I have a much better option!" he said, proudly exhibiting the lizard he had carried with him from Circe's. "It would make a great accessory to her range of stylish hats."

Nimbus took a deep, quelling breath. "Oh for Gaia's sake! You have pomegranate syrup for brains if you think Celestial will embrace carting Godzilla around in her purse! Drop it now. Or I'll describe in detail how you flirted with the ungorgeous Circe!"

The fact Jam referred to Celestial's hats as stylish, confirmed beyond all doubt he was intellectually unbalanced. Wait on, Nimbus puzzled. How did he know so much about her hats?

Jam frowned sulkily, releasing the reptile to watch sadly as it somersaulted towards the earth. "Goodbye Fifi! I hope your landing is a soft one!" Turning back to Nimbus he said primly, "It is the thought that counts!" He refused to utter another word until they reunited with Bacchus at Vulcan's Forge.

***

Chapter Nine

Cockroach Flambe

Meanwhile, Bacchus covertly materialised on the Ethereal Realm, concealing himself inside a huge golden statue of Athena, situated in the main forecourt before the Chamber of Greats. He vainly scrutinised his new physique -- it was the slimmest he'd been since Jupiter was a boy! He'd neglected to mention to Nimbus an intention to check on Celestial. The lad would have declared such an act too hazardous, giving many well-reasoned objections. "Can't argue with what you don't know about," Bacchus silently chanted his own trusty motto.

He scoped the plaza. Jam's Other was idly seated between columns at the top of the stairs to the entrance, dredging his ear with a finger, balling the wax and flicking it at the patio roof. As well as being utterly unhygienic, he appeared somewhat depressed and less than vigilant. The place had obviously been looted during the search for the Book, providing the opportunity for needless destruction with torn parchment, chunks of marble sculpture, shattered urns and overturned garden settings strewn about. The central fountain was soiled in a way Bacchus thought best not examined too closely, the surrounding lush gardens scythed, uprooted and discarded to wither and die.

He could not locate Celestial anywhere, figuring she must be held inside, which was not ideal as Azazel was probably there as well. Bacchus pondered his options. He could forgo checking on Celestial and put his faith in Jam's assertion nothing untoward would happen while she was a useful bargaining tool, or he could do what he usually did and rely on his own judgement. It had saved his skin on numerous occasions (he neglected to note it was normally his own judgement that got him into scrapes in the first place). He decided now was not the time to revise his methods and rashly chose the latter.

Bacchus could not pierce the dense psychic shield Azazel had in place around the Chamber, and so would materialise inside without forewarning of any changes, and therefore no clear flight plan. This was extremely dicey and often resulted in regrettable circumstances. Bacchus once teleported into the bathing house as Uranus cleaned out his chamber pot and it took him months to eradicate the lingering odour from his finest toga! He would have to be quick, lest Azazel detect his presence. He braced himself and aimed to materialise on one of the chandeliers at the back of the hall. His luck held and Bacchus was able to gain a full appraisal of the situation in a brief glimpse.

The dark renegade arrogantly seated on Zeus's Throne, idly exploding golden pillows with a flick of his wrist. A thin layer of downy feathers littered the floor and floated about. Celestial sprawled on a large stone chair -- a new addition to the hall -- her head lolling and eyes glazed. She appeared uninjured. Bacchus recognised the new furniture: it was the Seat of Forgetfulness and it explained something that bothered him. Why Celestial had not fought or managed to get them a message. She was almost invincible when angry, and even Azazel should have experienced difficulty keeping her subdued.

His questions answered, Bacchus withdrew and rematerialised at the door to Mercury's room on the outer reaches of their realm. He could move about unrestricted here because it was closer to the Material Realm to aid Mercury's job as the Divine Messenger. All that human energy created interference across the airwaves.

Naturally, the door was locked, but Bacchus was unfazed; he had exaggerated Mercury's security measures so Nimbus would be forced to cooperate with the plan and go to Circe's more willingly. Mercury was in fact very lax about protecting the contents of his home and kept a spare key under one of the reclining Cupids by the door. This job would be as simple as Cyclops junior.

Bacchus let himself in and closed the door, locking it firmly against the uninvited. He almost collapsed in the reek of abandoned sports socks and dirty sweatshirts. The guy clearly didn't go in for regular washing! Nor cleaning -- the place was a Satyr's communal sauna, with piles of grubby linen and towels tossed over every available surface. Teetering towers of stacked greasy dishes, bowls and cups transformed the room into a cityscape.

Bacchus would never have believed the usually immaculate Mercury was such a grot. You think you know a person. He gingerly edged his way through the mess heading for the office, carelessly crossing the threshold to his friend's inner sanctum. The article he desired projected from a decorous pen-pot on the highest shelf. A shrill whirring buzz filled the small room, spreading rapidly to the rest of the apartment. The acute whine was all around and Bacchus could not trace its source. He spun on the spot analysing every nook and cranny and discovered belatedly how sly Mercury truly was.

"Not bad, old man!"

From everywhere poured a vast sea of cockroaches, moving over the floors, the walls and the ceiling. Very soon, the isolated clear patch Bacchus occupied would teem with insects. Still, he was optimistic. They were only bugs and he could reach his goal even if it required wearing them as a living coat!

He strode towards the shelf, immediately beset by blasts of mustard spatter. His robe disintegrated on contact, spewing plumes of acrid smoke. Bacchus coughed and gagged. These were no ordinary roaches! But he'd come up against worse and resolutely barrelled onwards, clothing diminishing shreds. Glutinous blobs of green slime joined the acid and he trod in a large puddle of it. Bacchus's foot refused to come free as he tried to lift it. The green stuff was incredibly sticky and one leg was immovably glued.

"Oh, very good indeed! Sorry I underestimated you, Mercury old pal. You do know a thing or two about protection! I guess that makes me the naïve one!" he chuckled to himself.

Backed into a corner, he had no choice but to draw on his full power, which would instantly alert Azazel. Like all supernatural beings he was attuned to its use. Creeping about as a statue was one thing, wielding the heaven's awesome influence quite another. Azazel and his crew did not tolerate infringements of their instructions. Bacchus jeopardised Celestial further by showing his presence (they enjoyed sending body parts as a warning and there were no anatomical bits Bacchus thought Celestial could do without). He wrenched his foot free, deserting his favourite sandal upright in muck. Poised in a shrinking discus-sized space, it was now or never!

He closed his eyes in readiness, when a bottle dropped to the ground as acid ate the last of his bag, scattering his flint and other supplies. He was damned if he would loose Skylar's liqueur! He bent to retrieve it and a cockroach boldly ran up his now bare leg and bit him on the rump. It stung and he swore crankily and squashed it flat. He jerked upright with the alcohol and his flint in hand, pulled the cork with his teeth and took a bracing gulp as bug feelers tickled his floor-bound skin. He knew it would not merely tickle for long. As the pressure to act reached a climax, Skylar's words floated back to him, "to fire your courage and ease your angst". Maybe there was a way to help himself without revealing he was here!

He took a huge mouthful, wastefully spraying it over the vermin and activating a hail of sparks from his flint. The carpet of cockroaches burst into flame, those in proximity retreating hastily. Bacchus fixed the masses closest to him, barbequing them (and hoping that any remaining would get the idea and recede without him having to squander his entire supply of booze. He'd already donated a sandal!). He repeated the process until his refusal to part with any more of the precious beverage superseded safety issues.

Mercury's hovel looked much the worse for the clash with knee-deep fried carcasses and a sooty film of smelly ash coating everything. Bacchus' special sandal smouldered limply, crumbling to a carbon mound when he tried to reclaim it. He saluted his lost shoe and climbed the lower shelves to pluck the jar from its lofty perch. He waved a cautious hand over the quills and pencils contained within, having learned his lesson not to get smug about the apparently weak fortifications of other's sacred objects.

Reassuring himself that there were no further hurdles, he carefully extracted the thin, ornately carved tube. It was Mercury's hypnotic wand and had the power to put the highest Gods to sleep. Bacchus simply had to blow through it and even Sisyphus, doomed forever to push his boulder to the top of the hill and repeat the procedure after it frustratingly rolled back down, would take a well-deserved nap.

He could hear the dastardly cockroaches scuttling in a call to arms for replacement troops and he left for Vulcan's Forge without delay. He would fabricate an excuse for the sorry state his friend's house was in when they finished the task at hand and saved the universe! It may even give him some leverage if he returned a hero.

At that precise moment, Nimbus was involved in a heated argument with Jam, as they waited on the boundary of Vulcan's Forge.

"We could have stolen some of her shape-shifting herbs, if you had not got yourself pinned down under that appalling excuse for a pet!"

"For the final time, Circe does not use her herbs to shape-shift! It is a talent one is born with! And I see why you are petless. Small animals and babies probably run from your sunshiny personality!"

"Whoah! I am not the Dark Angel here. Me, side of good, saviour! Harmony and glory for all concerned! You, side of evil, plague, pestilence and devastation, no-one spared!"

Jam was about to provide a cutting retort when Nimbus raised his hand. "Wait a minute. How do you know so much about shape-shifting?"

"Because I have the gift." Jam eyed Nimbus warily.

"Show me!" Nimbus demanded, before realising the insolence of his tone. He added, "Please."

"It is a skill which matures with age and I am not quite adept at it yet, but I will try." He screwed up his face not unlike a weight-lifter at the Mt Olympus games.

There was a miniscule pop! and a horrid Pomeranian -- the type those silly human females lugged in designer bags --appeared at Nimbus's feet. "Eek!" he squealed, thinking it a porcupine at first.

A sheepish looking Jam reappeared. "You see what I mean? I was attempting a Siberian tiger."

Nimbus nodded sympathetically. "Still... Clever!"

"And," said Jam, features shifty. "I will not tell anyone you shrieked like a Fairy at the sight of that sorry example from the animal kingdom, if you forget what you saw at Circe's."

"Deal." Nimbus had no choice but to sullenly agree. It was another embarrassing fact the Nymphs would value highly, should they ever find out! Nimbus thought he saw a way to proceed on the Ethereal Realm, but could not elaborate as his Guardian arrived.

Bacchus apparated stark naked, the Horn of the Host slung over his shoulder, wearing a single scorched sandal. Scraps of his robe clung in places to ginger chest hair. His bushy orange eyebrows were singed, giving off the burnt smell of dragon's breath. There was also a faint alcoholic undertone.

"So, it went well then?" Nimbus inquired.

Bacchus held up Mercury's wand in response and smiled wryly. "Lost one of my lucky sandals!" he said, clearly discouraged by the failure.

"Seems you lost a little more than that." Nimbus signalled his state of undress.

"Hope you did not break a nail," Jam muttered sarcastically. "Your current dress is precisely the uniform of some of our lower ranked administrative officials, only their trumpets are bigger." He snickered.

"Listen sport," Bacchus said, colouring up. "Hestia awarded me those sandals for discovering the grape vine, one of my proudest moments. I won't have you besmirching the occasion with jokes about manicures!"

"You discovered the grape vine? So we have you to thank --"

"Or to blame," Nimbus mumbled.

"I apologise! I did not grasp the sentimental meaning of your sandal," Jam continued earnestly, offering a bow.

"I am the God of Wine, after all!"

"Okay, if we can ditch the foray into the illustrious past of Bacchus and get on with the job?" Nimbus worried they were running out of time.

They grouped on a craggy buttress near the top of Mt Etna. The volcano belched a poisonous cloud, but was relatively sedate easing Bacchus's access to the Underworld. He would not have to punt the lava moat today. Jam clapped his hands together -- from him, a resident, this was the equivalent of providing the pass word. A yawning chasm appeared, its rough hewn walls tinged a threatening red by molten rock. Searing heat blasted Nimbus and he had to squint to see a treacherous winding path rising from a vast lake of magma, heading off in the distance.

"I give you Perdition Road," Jam supplied theatrically. "Hard to get off, once you're on. Although lately, since that fool Virgil took his pilgrim through, we've had extreme sports nuts fronting to white-water-raft the river Styx and base-jump the Abyss of Doom. Hades had a Griffin when he found out! Shouted the Underworld was a prohibited area, the importance of maintaining cultural heritage and what not."

"Fascinating," Nimbus said tartly, "can we move it along? Remember Celestial?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you! Azazel has Celestial trapped on the Seat of Forgetfulness."

Jam broke into fits of the giggles. "Very amusing!"

Bacchus raised a perplexed eyebrow. Or would have were it not burnt off.

"I'm so glad she's not hurt! I wondered how he'd keep her under control." Nimbus ignored the completely insane Jam, who was still shaking with laughter. He was slightly relieved about Celestial's predicament, but still eager to get underway. "Here are your herbs. What are they for?"

"To cover his scent and make him blind to my neighbours." Jam wiped away tears of humour.

Bacchus nodded. "The inhabitants of this place can smell sin and corruption, Circe's weeds neutralise the fact that I am pure of heart and do not belong."

"Sin and corruption is the ideal, huh? I would not have thought you needed the herbs," Nimbus murmured. Bacchus favoured him with a petulant look. "But won't they recognise you, whether you smell right or not?" Nimbus ploughed on.

"I have to make a detour first and obtain an item, which will address the problem." Bacchus packed his scant belongings in a small, new satchel.

Jam gasped. "You are going after Hades Helmet!"

He was more intelligent than he looked and Nimbus was a tad jealous. Associating with one smarty-pants was plenty, being forced to hang with two would prove unbearable. Nimbus refused to reveal his ignorance and changed the subject.

"Whatever! I collected the Book on the way here. You definitely recommend we give it to Azazel and try to get it back after we've rescued Celestial?"

"Azazel will be wary for fakes now and I can see no alternative than to give him the real deal. You'll need to stall him for as long as possible, so I can bring back help before he reads it."

"Just for the record, that plan sucks grapefruit!" For the first time Nimbus and Jam, who wore a doubtful expression, were in total agreement.

***

Chapter Ten

The Princess and the Proxy

"Shhh! Don't spook them!" Nimbus warned, his progress muffled by the straw-strewn floor.

"What are we doing here?" Jam whispered back.

"You'll see," he said as he crouched and snuck the length of the stables, filled with an ordinary assortment of barnyard animals: lamas, ostriches, bears and golden-horned deer. In a large coral in the middle of the long building, stood a herd of snow white cows that brayed lowly as the two passed by. Nimbus halted at the end stall, gesturing that Jam should remain hidden. He rose cautiously, calling quietly as he did so.

"It's alright buddy. It's Nimbus." He received a whinny in response and the winged stallion Pegasus trotted up to him, nudging Nimbus's cheek with his velvety nose. Nimbus gave him an affectionate rub. "Got to ask a favour. You may need to involve the family and probably the oxen and others as well. I hate to request you risk your loved ones, but things are a bit dire at the moment." The horse nodded and neighed softly. "Knew I could count on you," said Nimbus and he outlined his plan.

"Do you really think it's wise to use dumb heifers for such a risky enterprise?" Jam asked a short while later as they stealthily made their way towards the Chamber of Greats.

"They aren't ordinary beasts of burden. They're Apollo's sacred herd and they're probably smarter than me!"

"That is no compliment of their intelligence," Jam grinned.

"Oh, how very witty!" Nimbus rolled his eyes.

"Hades too has a magical herd that roam the Asphodel Fields. Only, they have sable black hides. I am not sure how clever they are."

"You are an absolute font of trivia." They arrived behind the Chamber and slumped tiredly to sit with their backs to the wall.

"Thank you," Jam replied.

"So, do you think you can do it?" Nimbus asked, his voice almost inaudible.

"It will not be easy. I am still a beginner and taking another human form is the hardest to accomplish, but for my Celestial, I would battle the Geryon with its bat wings and three giant bodies. I promise to do my best. Good luck to you... Nimbus!"

Had Jam addressed him by his name before? Nimbus rose and started to leave for the front of the building. He pivoted. "I have faith in you, Jam. This will not work without you. Celestial needs you and we will not forget your contribution when this is done."

Jam blinked in surprise. "No one has placed their trust in me before."

"Never?"

He shook his head. "I've been pushed around, picked on, criticised for a long list of inadequacies and threatened with the cat-o-nine tails or the rack if I did not follow orders. Truly depended on to do the right thing of my own accord? Never!"

"Here's your chance," Nimbus smiled. He prayed to every known deity they weren't wrong about Jam and this wasn't another part of the black angels' trap.

"You can count on me," he said sincerely.

"Wait for the signal. Then give it a minute or so, okay?"

Jam nodded. Nimbus made for the entrance and the massive golden doors to the Chamber. He rounded the corner and almost collided with Ram, who'd been wandering aimlessly about the ruined square. Ram's eyes went wide and he instantly burst into scarlet flame.

"Stand down!" Nimbus yelled. "I'm here on the directive of your master. Your life won't be worth living if you get in my way!"

"Where's Jam!" he bawled. "What have you done to him?" Ram's fists remained alight.

"Stand down, I said!" Nimbus crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet in defiance. Ram reluctantly did as asked, maintaining an obstinate expression.

"Where is my brother?" Ram repeated. "I demand you release him!"

"Your 'brother' is safe and unharmed and at liberty to return to his kind at any point. Maybe he simply chooses to be free of your bossing and bullying."

"Jam would never leave his Brethren. We are his family!" Ram was clearly incensed by the suggestion.

"Doesn't sound like it." His tone hid a lack of confidence.

Ram's unyielding attitude made Nimbus nervous. What if the hex wore off and Jam reverted to his true nature in the middle of the current crucial proceedings? They would be stuffed like a suckling pig on the proverbial feasting spit then. Given that Jam had chosen to flee with Ram back at Skylar's, it seemed the only barrier to Jam's desertion was his obsession with Celestial. Nimbus needed to hurry while it still held.

"I don't have time for this. Move aside and let me do what I came to do!"

"Not until you tell me where Jam is!" Ram mimicked Nimbus's stubborn stance.

"Okay!" Nimbus pretended irritation and raised two fingers to his lips giving a long high-pitched whistle.

Ram looked about edgily. He did not expect to get his way so easily. His suspicions were confirmed, when a huge golden eagle plummeted from on high -- Zeus's familiar. Its claws outstretched to grasp Ram by the arms, and haul him off to its eyrie on the top of Mt Olympus. Ram shouted obscenities and struggled mightily, but to no avail. The eagle's power neutralised that of any in its grip or near its nest. It would take a while for Ram to climb his way back down the steep cliff face.

Satisfied he could focus solely on Azazel now, Nimbus progressed to the door, braced himself and pounded, loud booms reverberating across the courtyard. The doors swung slowly inward, gradually revealing Azazel in all his terrible glory. He sauntered over and gave Nimbus a cold, superior smile.

"It is alarming how easily the defences of the Most High can be penetrated. The Book." He signed eagerly for Nimbus to hand it over.

Nimbus had no choice but to reluctantly obey. He fumbled in his robes, buying extra time. Over Azazel's shoulder he saw Jam appear by Celestial's side, able to do so now the concealments were broken. He grasped her limp form about the middle and hauled her carefully off the bulky chair, laying her down beside it, where she remained hidden so Nimbus lost sight of her. He had an unsettling momentary vision of Celestial coming around, unaware Jam was her ally and attacking him. But Nimbus was comforted to observe the Dark Angel step to the chair, change his appearance, which became remarkably like the real Celestial except for the ebony eyes, and reseat his replacement in her stead.

Azazel's patience clearly waned. He urged with a manic power-hungry air, "Give me the Book. NOW!"

Nimbus produced the Book and with a heavy heart, handed it over. As the Book left his grasp, making contact with the tips of Azazel's fingers, a frosty wind filled the square, ruffling his hair and sending ominous shivers down his spine. In an instant the leaves were stripped from every single tree to scuttle dismally across the paving in a growing tempest.

The peaceful rosy glow that usually infused the Ethereal Realm became the hostile pallor of the gathering storm and Nimbus felt the ground beneath his feet tremble. He could not understand how the Most High remained unaware of this unfolding tragedy. Their superiors had left them on their own! An oppressive feeling of foreboding stole over him, energy draining away as though sand slipping through fingers.

"Release Celestial!" he faltered.

"That has always been the problem with the side of good," chuckled Azazel. "Far too gullible. When I rule as the greatest lord over my dominion of darkness in the sky, I require a powerful and beautiful queen. Celestial will rule beside me as my eternal Princess of Night and remind the arrogant Gods of this lost land just how foolish they have been!"

Nimbus stood transfixed. Azazel never intended to release Celestial! "You forget one thing!"

Azazel raised a brow in mute inquiry, completely unfazed by any issue Nimbus could bring to proceedings.

"Celestial would never yield to your authority. She would fight you until the bitter end!"

Easily manoeuvring the Book to one hand, Azazel casually raised the other and loudly clicked his fingers twice. Nimbus watched devastated, as from behind the Chair of Forgetfulness, Celestial raised herself and commenced a floating glide towards them, arms oddly outstretched like a voodoo facsimile in some type of deep trance.

"Nooo! NO!" Nimbus' panic mounted.

Azazel glanced from the hovering Celestial to the prone substitute in her place on the Chair. "Very interesting," he mused. "Well, we shall discover the impostor's identity soon enough and they will endure fit punishment. But now, to the matter at hand." Like a ghost, Celestial drifted to the Fallen Angel's side. "Come my Princess," he smirked, snapping his fingers again.

Nimbus launched himself at his immobilised twin coming up against a solid invisible barricade. He rebounded uselessly from the rubberised wall, shoved to his rump.

"Wake up, Celestial!" He was up in an instant to futilely batter the air. "Celestial!"

She was cocooned within the enchantment and no longer reachable by normal means. Azazel sneered, enjoying Nimbus's apparent helplessness. However poorly his approach was going, Nimbus did not succumb to his enveloping despair. His determination crystallised and he instead closed his eyes and sent the mental signal to instigate the rest of his desperate plan. Azazel peered curiously down at his feet. The surrounding pebbles bounced erratically in response to strange increasing vibrations.

"What mischief is this boy?" he growled, squinting in an effort to discover its source.

A thunderous rumble grew from the distance to a deafening pitch, the floor trembling violently as a mammoth rotating dust cloud blasted the square. Without further warning, all the creatures from the barn stampeded into the courtyard making directly for Azazel and the comatose Celestial. Huge brown grizzly bears lumbered roaring next to nimble leaping does, encircled by the herd of oxen whose lowed guidance echoed above the din.

Flying gracefully at the helm of this charge soared Pegasus, his nostrils flared and his ears flat to his temples in readiness for battle. His immortal fire-breathing mare Equinox lead the attack from the ground, billowing smoke as she broached the stairs three at a time and surged forward.

Azazel perceived the rush and turned on his heel to run for the Pedestal of Omniscience, abandoning Celestial to the trampling onslaught. Nimbus barely had the opportunity to barrel her from harm's way as pounding hooves made the wide terrace. They rolled to the ground protected by a sturdy pillar. Still, Azazel was fast and would reach his destination first, trailed by the skirmish. He could not get the chance to read the passage from the Book! Pegasus, whose wing span was too large for the Hall, landed at the door, whinnied, stamped his foot and shook his long white mane.

As Nimbus frantically searched his oppositional brain for alternatives, he caught sight of three lightening quick darts spearing down upon Azazel, plumes of ash and jets of fire accosting him as he sprinted closer to the Pedestal by the second. The triad winged foals of Pegasus had arrived with a vengeance, the triplets harrying and swooping over his head, diving to kick with their hooves and pull at his hair and wings with their gnashing teeth. The exchange resulted in a few fruitless mouthfuls of coal feathers. Azazel waved a free hand at them, shooting poorly aimed flashes of crackling electricity back over his head. The charges blackened and charred the frescoed walls raining down chunks of plaster.

"Be careful!" Nimbus was responsible for the peril the reckless young colts now faced. He could not bear the thought of anything happening to them.

The Great Hall filled rapidly with the tumultuous sounds of animals that pressed in on their fleeing quarry. They prevented Azazel's fraught efforts to open the Book and peel pages from its cover, which grew heavier and more ornate nearer the Pedestal. His focus occupied by the seething horde about him, the black angel was no longer able to expend the mental energy keeping Celestial at bay and she roused from her stupor with a sharp gasp.

"It's a trap. I'm caught! How could I be so stupid? I'm so sorry Nimbus," she cried, living in the memory of that moment. No time had passed for Celestial, stuck in limbo on the Chair of Forgetfulness.

Nimbus took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Come back to me, Celestial. I need you now!"

She blinked and stared about, seeing clearly for the first time since she was taken. Her eyes went wide as she took in the unfolding mayhem and viewed Azazel's frenzied efforts to gain the Pedestal, persistently buffeted in a constricting circle of churning animals. Pegasus's foals harassed from on high, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the Book from his unwavering grip.

"He has the Book! How could it happen? It's a copy, surely?"

"No it's the real deal. We had no option, Celestial," Nimbus admitted guiltily, fully conscious of the fact that Celestial would not agree and almost welcoming the attendant heated lecture.

"Well," she said resolutely, (Nimbus thought it highly likely the sermon was merely delayed until later), "let's get it back! He will be greatly weakened by his stay in the Chamber. He does not belong here. It would have sapped his strength and he cannot draw on the reserves of his own Realm as he has been too far away, for too long."

Nimbus clapped his forehead, of course! How could he have been so blind?

"We need a distraction," she said, her eyes rapidly scanning the interior.

"What? You mean aside from stampeding herds and flying fire-breathing horses?" Nimbus asked.

Celestial raised her eyes in an appeal to the Heavens. It really was so good to have her back. If they survived this, Nimbus swore to listen avidly to every word that escaped her mouth, never taking for granted his good fortune again.

"No," she said patiently, "in addition to. He won't be expecting me, you he knows about. So, you take the front and keep him occupied and I'll get the Book while he's dealing with you."

"Err, how do I manage to get at him through the whirlpool of bodies?" Nimbus asked, knowing that it was a silly question but unable to pluck the answer from the mass of competing thoughts in his head.

Celestial looked at him, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "You have wings, don't you?"

Nimbus would have slapped his own head again at the obviousness of the answer, but like Bacchus, he thought it best not to deprive himself of precious brain cells. His supply was clearly deficient. "Right!"

Celestial nodded encouragingly, and Nimbus sprung into the air, wings whooshing him straight up to the vaulted ceiling. In his peripheral vision from the air he saw her craftily make her way to the front of the hall, almost swimming atop the chest high tide of nature, as they helped her hurdle from back to back.

Nimbus's offensive unfortunately penned Azazel in with the Pedestal too soon, forcing Equinox to direct her children to stop breathing fire so close to the Book. The Fallen Angel would shortly achieve the upper hand on the raised platform, within a brief calm of confused and densely packed animals, too gridlocked to move. Yet, he would also be preoccupied reading. Nimbus had to time his ambush perfectly to this precise moment of weakness. And height.

He had never truly appreciated just how challenging it was to fly inconspicuously, reduced to gliding awkwardly from column to column and clinging on by wrapping his arms about its thick girth like some ungainly tree-frog. He kept losing altitude with each jump, bringing him closer to the turmoil below than was sensible. Suddenly, Azazel's form elevated above the throng as he lunged onto the podium having finally fought his way through. He was bloodied and bruised, his silken shift tattered and the crown on his head askew.

He wasted no time thumping the Book down onto the Pedestal, not bothering to clear a trickle of blood oozing his right eye. What pitifully scant light remained in the Chamber dimmed and flickered. Nimbus anxiously clambered higher up his pillar, adjacent to but on the opposite side of Azazel. He needed to go just a little higher to get enough momentum!

Azazel's mouth opened and the room shook fiercely, knocking Nimbus further down into the animals and weakening him greatly at the same instant. The immense cosmic power that was usually available to him at a whim was jerked away, leaving his body wracked by never previously experienced pain. Nimbus cried out in agony, his muscles cramped and reflexively let go. He was swept helplessly down towards the heaving bulk, too feeble even to call out to Celestial and warn her that their attempt at saving the Book had failed and infinite doom was upon them.

***

Chapter Eleven

Perdition Road

After the lads had gone, Bacchus fashioned a loin-cloth with his one remaining sash. Surprisingly, Jam did not seem too dodgy and Bacchus was comforted his young charge, Nimbus, was not on his own for the trials ahead. His latest attire resembled a lurid pin-striped nappy with inconvenient holes burnt here and there. Modesty was not really necessary where he was headed, especially as he would be invisible for the most part, but one had to maintain one's standards (admittedly they were usually quite low).

He hoisted the satchel 'borrowed' from Mercury over his shoulder, which contained assorted supplies plus the wand, his liqueur, the herbs, an offering for the beast and his current most valued possession: a pear from the Ethereal Realm. He would need it to cross Perdition Road, which could cremate an unarmed intruder in the flash of a Humming Bird's wing. He sorely wished Celestial had not stripped him of his packages before they set out. As a result, he had no back up defences and no means of escape if cornered, which given his destination, was highly likely.

Bacchus took a deep, calming breath, loosened up with a few shoulder stretches and cracked his knuckles. He had been below before to rescue his mother and knew what was in store: an unbroken sprint through a marathon obstacle course, except in Hades the obstacles were usually lethal and would ruthlessly hunt down trespassers to be dealt with most cruelly. Bacchus also had scant time in which to achieve his goal, as the camouflage herbs of Circe worked over a limited period.

"Right old man. No more procrastinating! Friends in need, goodness endangered, world in peril and so on." He waved a hand as though orating at the Pantheon. "One foot in front of the other, and bit by bit the job gets done."

Bacchus took a tentative, sandal-less step onto the coarse boiling road. Sulphurous gases hissed from the sea of bubbling molten stone that stretched for fathoms either side of the precarious walkway. Smouldering boulders fell from the sky at intervals, trailing embers as they hit the lake to shoot geysers of magma across the path, which would dissolve skin on contact.

Entering the furnaces of Hell, was indeed, literal, as a furious heat accosted him, burning the remnant hair from his body and immediately searing his flesh a scalded lobster red. His feet blistered to the point where layers from his soles peeled away, sizzling and clinging to the road like Achilles to his shield.

"See? Not so bad, if a tad tropical," he murmured encouragingly to himself, and hurried onwards against the scorching blitz.

He must wait to the very last before consuming the pear, which offered cooling protection. This damned Road was a long one, winding off to an insignificant point in the distance. It was quite a stretch, since Bacchus hefted his heavy frame in any activity more straining than moving from one house of ale or feast to another, and it took him a while to coordinate his unwilling legs in a vague approximation of running. He cut a graceless, wobbling figure, flab trembling in protest as he lumbered along.

Sweat steamed from his brow as soon as it appeared. His mouth was an arid wasteland, tongue swollen and lacking moisture even to wet dry, cracked lips. It was an ordeal to draw breath; he felt as though his lungs were microwaved.

Bulging eyeballs fried in their sockets and might explode at any moment. Bacchus had to eat the pear soon, or it would all be over. His corpse would be found a dried-out husk like an abandoned cicada case, limbs shrivelled and face seized in the pain of his final moments. Every thump of his foot on the gravel brought stabbing agony, similar to the time he'd rashly boasted he could dance all night on Ali Barber's bed of nails. It was a good story and Bacchus fervently hoped he'd get to tell it once more.

When he'd eventually dashed to a spot he estimated to be half way, he could delay no longer, fumbling the bag and stumbling ever onwards. Hallelujah! His bloated probing fingers touched the Fruit of the Gods and instant relieving cool travelled up his hand and arm, and across his chest. He pulled out the pear and raised it weakly to his mouth taking a large, succulent bite. Juice trickled down his chin, spreading to cover the rest of his body in a healing salve.

He chewed slowly, savouring the chilly calm that settled upon him to reverse the physical damage his foray onto Perdition Road had wrought. Bacchus jogged confidently now, munching happily on his pear, oblivious of the effects of this noxious kiln. He whistled a popular tune sung by the Heavenly Gospel Choir, currently at the top of the Papyrus Charts. Bacchus would soon be away from the lava moat and safely minus the first of an extensive list of tortures yet to come.

In the closing distance a jagged mountain range loomed into view. Home to the hideous beast Cerberus, otherwise know as Buttercup, sentinel at the forsaken gates to Hades' wretched Underworld. Bacchus finally reached the end of the miserable track, just as he'd finished the pear. It took him all his diminishing strength to levitate the pear core back to the beginning, planting the seeds on a sparse patch of ground, where it would grow despite the barren environment to supply other hapless journeyers with brief comfort on their trips of no return.

Thankfully the air temperature plunged as he stepped off the spiky crushed-pumice surface onto the trail that lead up into the mountains. Carved into the rock face of the jagged cliffs that sandwiched the passage, funnelling travellers into an inescapable canyon, were gruesome demons engaged in barbaric acts of warfare and persecution. This was the dismal and gloomy Cavern of Erebus, said to be the nexus of Night and Chaos, the corridor to the Underworld proper.

When Bacchus stopped to examine the fearsome images closely, they came alive as he stared, twisting their horrible forms, leering down at him and rattling their maces. He shuddered and averted his gaze, hurrying passed. It was impossible to shake the overwhelming feeling he was observed by hidden hostile beings. Indeed, he knew from experience his progress was monitored by the back-skinned, red-eyed imps, whose intelligence was at best that of a forest troll. They recognised only that Bacchus was untouchable as he did not belong, and would take no action against him unless permitted to do so from a higher authority.

This kindness was not afforded the Sinners and other unfortunates meant for below; they were mercilessly tormented by both the Imps and the Rock Monsters as they advanced. Neither of these sneering enemies would alert Hades of Bacchus's progress. They trusted his expedition would end with the Hell Hound, for no intruder ever escaped her slavering, ravenous jaws. Bacchus allowed himself a sly smile. No-one except for him!

He hastened up the steep path that projected from the valley he'd just left. Ugly barbed vines snaked over the mountain side, the thick brambles twisting and thrashing as Bacchus trotted by. Venom-tipped thorns missiled about him and he attempted to shrink his robust physique to a lesser target. He covered his front with his puny bag and ran the slope at full tilt. It finally flattened out and became a wide parade leading directly to Buttercup.

Jaundiced light flickered pathetically from torches that lined the way. Seething marshland projected either side as far as the eye could see, no doubt riddled with hazardous bogs and other unimaginable evils. Bacchus heaved and panted, seating himself on a levee at the side of the road to gather strength for his exchange with the Beast. He pulled barbs from the satchel flap, disturbed to note widening acid holes surrounding the punctures. He had forgotten what a charming place this was! He allowed himself two small gulps of Skylar's liqueur, a glorious calm settling, reluctantly replacing the drink and extracting Mercury's wand. Now came the hard part.

Reinvigorated and magically no longer breathless, he raised himself and slogged towards Buttercup's hidden home, tightly clasping the delicate tube \-- the only defence between him and her crushing, merciless jowls. As he drew nearer to the entrance, the imposing gates gained detail, with engraved runes etched over every observable surface. Bacchus was familiar with the ancient symbols. The script translated to a long rant on the consequences of shameless actions and gave specifics on the different sectors in which particular crimes were punished.

A massive wall extended from each, topped with vicious-looking spines and periodic turrets for watchers. Long streams of black tar, set hard over time, accumulated down the walls at these breaches. Bacchus quaked; tossing boiling pitch over the Damned at the bottom was a favourite hobby of the guards, who gambled on the outcome, earning points for accuracy and the level of injury inflicted. The place was strangely deserted, which suited Bacchus fine.

In front of the gates on the right, recessed from the road, a murky cave-hole could be detected if one knew where to look. A vile stench boiled from the void, decorated by mounds of bones and rotting meat. Those less vigilant were rewarded with the sudden dreadful company of Buttercup, whose mere presence had dire effect. But Bacchus was prepared. Gripping the wand between his lips, he rifled the bag and removed a sizeable jar of doggy treats -- pickled pygmies coated in aspic jelly, with powdered intestines 'for a healthy coat'.

The goal was to entice Buttercup from her home, so he could get in and steal the Helmet. Bacchus snuck as close to the cavity as he dared, eyes watering from the reek, and proceeded to screw the lid off the jar. This was a rooky mistake and Bacchus scolded himself. He should have completed the task away from the kennel! Before he could blink, she was there.

Bacchus was impressed; Buttercup's movements were remarkably quiet for such a large fiend! He could feel hot, fetid breath from her three mouths brushing the top of his head. He slowly looked up, directly into numerous rows of razor-sharp fangs, dripping drool. Without panicking, Bacchus continued to undo the lid. A malevolent growl accompanied the deed.

After what seemed an eternity, the lid was finally free. Keeping his movements to a minimum, Bacchus lowered the food to the ground at Buttercup's massive, sharply-clawed paws. Her heads followed him down and they were temporarily face-to-face, her wicked greedy eyes boring into him like the orange furnace of the magma lake. She snarled and Bacchus gulped.

"Nice doggy," he murmured hopefully. "Look. Yum-yums!"

She glared at Bacchus and he thought for a moment she would not take the bait and he was dinner, but then she put her noses in turn to the pygmies, sniffing hungrily. Her viper tail wagged enthusiastically, the volume of slobber increasing to leak widening puddles. She noisily gobbled the treats, flinging saliva about. Bacchus backtracked, avoiding the toxic spittle.

He waited until Buttercup was almost finished eating and blew gently through the hypnotic wand at each of her faces. She blearily shook her heads, as though bothered by a gnat and Bacchus hastily repeated the act. Three sets of lids drooped and Bacchus congratulated himself on a job well done. Unfortunately, Buttercup never slept out in the open and with her appetite satisfied she sleepily shuffled backwards into her cave.

Disaster! Bacchus would now be forced to search for the Helmet while she was inside. Served him right for prematurely praising himself! He paused at the gaping black hole until fairly certain the rhythmic rumbled breathing from within indicated slumber. He'd retrieved a flaming torch from the roadside and tentatively thrust it into the gloom where it glowed weakly, barely illuminating more than a couple of steps. Bacchus cursed softly, this was not ideal as the need for heightened caution would slow him down, wasting what little time remained. He carefully trailed the flame into the pitch-dark tunnel. The pong was suffocating and he fought rising bile.

He was surprised at how far the drowsy Buttercup had made it, when the passage ended abruptly and he came upon her giant sleeping silhouette. She almost completely blocked further ingress. Behind her, in glowing niches hewn from rock walls, Bacchus could just make out an assortment of the residents' valued possessions.

This was the perfect secure vault as it was presumed no one would be mad enough to enter Buttercup's domain. It was a fair point! There were literally hundreds of inset boxes each containing one object. Bacchus groaned internally; loaning Hades Helmet was going to take much longer than expected.

Bacchus steeled himself for the first hurdle. He edged to the side of the outermost head, which was scary even when on the floor napping, and flattened against the wall to squeeze by. He willed himself lighter and scrambled up onto one of Buttercup's front haunches, his heart beating too fast for his own liking. The beast didn't budge. Emboldened, Bacchus climbed onto her back and along her spine, his feet sinking into her thick, amazingly silky fur. There was an angst-provoking moment when Bacchus confronted her tail's serpent-head, the reptilian eyes open slits, until he realised it too, was no longer conscious. He leaped onto the stone floor and raised the torch to better inspect the goods, which peppered the ascending alcove going far higher than Bacchus would have believed.

Bacchus need not have worried about conducting an extensive search. The filing system was dictated by Hades' enormous ego, his spectacular collection symbolically elevated above the rest of the rabble to line the upper rim. More climbing. It had never been his forte! He left his torch on the floor, reaching up as far as possible to grip the lip of one receptacle and haul vertically, the tips of his toes balanced in lower spaces. It was hard going, the boxes spread a body length apart and Bacchus was soon exhausted. Some articles were large and occupied a majority of their plots, leaving scant hand and foot holds. Bacchus held his breath on a number of occasions, when a knocked item threatened to plummet to a shattering crash beneath.

Eventually, as his limp, jellied arms were in danger of giving out, he reached the top row. Vertigo took hold and Bacchus gritted his teeth to quell the dizziness, praying it would soon pass. This took so long! He had to climb sideways now, stopping to check each box for the Helmet. The sheer scope of the priceless and powerful objects was breathtaking and Bacchus thought himself fortunate to have no free hands. Burglarising Hade's valuables for self-indulgent purposes would invoke the King of the Underworld's wrath, and even the Gods from on High would not be able to intervene on his behalf. Such a shame, thought Bacchus moodily, just a couple of small items from this treasure trove expanded his business in authentic relics.

He made it half way around the wall, when tenacity was recognised with success. The Helmet sat on a stand and was far plainer than many of the other intricately wrought, bejewelled specimens. It was a smooth bronze without embellishment that adjusted magically to fit any head size (luckily, as it was often joked that if only Bacchus's brains were the size of his boulder-sized head, he would rule the universe instead of the banquet table).

Bacchus claimed it and put it on, carrying it down risky. He immediately disappeared and tried to descend, which he discovered was impossible because there was nothing to anchor him, as he stretched for the box below the one he currently occupied. He would have to jump, hoping for some residual hover power in this vitality-sapping pit! If only he had wings like the Cherubs!

Thoughts of his Charges spurred him on, perhaps a tad hastily. Bacchus launched airborne forgetting to restrain both his bag and the Horn of the Host, which were flung outwards to connect with the contents of two boxes on the way down. Regrettably, one held a ceramic continuously filling urn, the other a platter made from a rare Atlantean metal called Orichalcum, that was nevertheless capable of making a loud, echoing clang as it landed.

Bacchus watched in slow-motion horror from his floating vantage as they made the floor before him, the urn exploding resoundingly as it hit, showering the beast with ricocheting shards. In the deathly silence of Buttercup's kennel, the resulting racket burst forth, seemingly magnified ten-fold. The looping platter made Celestial's cymbals seem like a tinkling lullaby. The dog leapt up, its heads whipping to and fro for the prowler, three jaws snapping and barking in savage unison. Bacchus inhaled tiredly and massaged his temples – a most unwelcome development! He had mere seconds to come up with a counter-plan or he would be joining the pickled pygmies!

***

Chapter Twelve

The Keeper of the Keys

Bacchus wrenched out the liqueur, seizing a large crystal terrine on the way down. He landed unseen, but Buttercup had an acute sense of smell and would be on him shortly. He squatted and grasped a piece of pottery from the perpetually filling urn, ripping the cork from his bottle with his teeth and shoving the glass chip in. The liqueur replenished and Bacchus quickly poured out as much as he could into the basin. He tipped the bottle upright and waited as it refilled, then added more to the almost full bowl. Buttercup's dedicated sniffing brought her nearby.

She halted, taking in the foreign scent. She raised her snout and howled -- a deafening whine that blasted with an effect worse than nails down a chalk board. He clamped his available hand over his ear, an entirely futile defence, and sunk involuntarily to his knees. Buttercup knew instinctively that Bacchus was a special case: a hunted fugitive who'd broken their laws previously.

She also sensed the dangerous liquid before her was not from her Realm, but gluttony was her bestial nature and she could not resist the temptation. She would fail her duty to keep prohibited persons out as a result. She lowered her middle head and drank deeply, whimpering all the while. Bacchus had no notion of what the liqueur would do and waited in tense anticipation. The tunnel filled with a weird yipping sound and Bacchus observed the retreating hound tottering drunkenly towards the cave entrance. It seemed she had the hiccoughs!

"Oh no! Here Buttercup, here doggy!"

He could not allow her to be seen outside in this state, which would surely encourage a conscientious watcher to investigate eventually. He received a garbled bark in reply. She was way too noisy! He followed, Mercury's Wand in hand. Happily, a short way into the cave, Bacchus was granted a reprieve from prying staff when he nearly tripped over the beast's hunched form. She was slumped on her back, legs in the air like an upended milking stool, snoring loudly.

He wasted no time climbing over her stomach to tentatively make the opening. There was a slight glitch as she grumbled in her sleep, her back leg peddling to shred Bacchus's makeshift loin cloth with a claw, but given that had the scratching paw occurred a jot sooner, he would have been disembowelled, Bacchus was pleased with the overall outcome. He was also nude, yet again.

He popped his head out into the now almost blinding light, and after a pause to allow his eyesight to adjust, was appalled to note the heavy gates barring access to Hades' realm silently swinging ajar. Garrulous complaint drifted towards him, snippets of the outburst gaining volume. Bacchus groaned. Please, not the Keeper of the Keys! He busied himself stuffing a handful of the pungent herbs into his mouth and chewing manically. They would have to be rationed carefully to last the journey. Worst fears realised, Aiakos, the Keeper of the Keys for Hades barrelled into view. Who could guess that such a kindly looking grey-bearded old man proved so unpleasant?

In fact, he was a totally unsavoury and snivelling character, currently griping loudly that "an official of his stature should not be reduced to babysitting the lowest demons, brutes and phantoms", that his "input in current proceedings would have been invaluable and his exclusion was an inexcusable waste of talent", and that "maybe he should seek a more rewarding career elsewhere".

Surely Aiakos' most fitting profession was as an out-of-work hermit in the mountains of Tibet, where only the poor alpacas were left to suffer his gibberish! Bacchus swallowed the bitter mouthful of greenery, swishing a gulp of liqueur around his mouth to dislodge a few splinters between his teeth. He began to feel strangely unwashed as the herbs took effect.

To action! He'd wasted enough time on the easy stuff! By now he should be undetectable to the residents and chose Aiakos as the model candidate for experimentation. He met the Keeper half way to Buttercup's lair, daintily sidestepped and stuck his foot out. Aiakos had some angry speed up and tripped spectacularly to face-plant the gravel. Bacchus suppressed laughter as Aiakos commando rolled to his feet, aggressively staring around with his puny fists raised. He'd clearly read too many of Homer's Trojan War fight scenes.

"Who's there! Come out coward and I'll have you!" A large ring of keys jangled from his belt as the old man attempted some fancy boxing foot-work. Bacchus tripped him again and he fell in a heap, his starched white toga dust-logged. Aiakos's face was livid as he leapt upright, screaming hysterically.

"Show yourself yellow cur!" A train of unmentionable words followed.

Although Bacchus found harassing Aiakos extremely enjoyable, as always, time was pressing. The Keeper spun glowering in frustration at this elusive rival. After, he commanded an avid audience at the tavern, relaying his heroic encounter with a murderous swarm of Afreets or depending on his mood, more sinister attackers.

Bacchus blew on the wand and Aiakos dropped to the ground, not to rise again until a senior Demon in search of the key to the executive bathroom roused him much later. The Keeper's paranoia and ridiculous claims of an unseen mighty warrior, coupled with the charge of neglect of duty, brought him a visit to the Witch Doctor for a few disagreeable sessions. To 'cure' his jumpiness, the Doctor made a clay doll in his image, sticking him with a sharp pin whenever he flinched, which of course made him flinch all the more. Miserable Aiakos was left with a violent nervous tick and more holes in his body than a sieve.

Bacchus stole the five keys to the front gates in case he needed them to get back out; they were easy to find being the biggest and most decorative. He dragged Aiakos's limp form behind a particularly large deposit of Buttercup's dung. The smell was putrid, even for this place, and it would be a while before anyone approached the Keeper without gagging or pinching their noses. Bacchus slipped through into the Underworld proper, known as the Dolorous Realm, closing the gate behind him.

Like the Ethereal Realm, it was an enormous city, broken into sectors for various beliefs and worshipped entities. Unlike Bacchus's home of bliss-filled peace and sharing, this was a place of pain and suffering for individuals who'd failed to appreciate the privilege of their earthly existence. A vile and ceaseless wind blew from the left; enough to drive even the strongest slowly insane.

Bacchus guessed the Elders were closeted in Hades' Palace, a colossal sprawling fortress set on the highest hill in the distance. It was in this direction Bacchus strode, worried mightily by the lessening time. If Azazel read from the Book, it rendered even the Most High, powerless.

Between him and his destination lay myriad obstacles, the nearest a slime-filled stream of boiling mud known as the River Acheron, the Woeful River, which was eventually joined by the Kokytos, or Wailing River. Although shallow, the waterway was wide and its corrosive sludge necessitated crossing by boat. The banks of this despicable coast were crowded with moaning listless Spectres, unable to make the other side, as they'd neglected to bring payment for the Ferryman.

Speaking of which, Bacchus was relieved to note the man himself emerging out of the dense haze that shrouded the middle, his long pole probing the murky bottom where Poseidon only knew what lived there. Bacchus's relief was fleeting however, upon closer inspection of the proposed transport, a hobbled-together, flat-bottomed barge. The rickety contraption's Captain was Kharon, ferryman to Hades and authority on who was permitted to undertake the crossing. He squinted and scanned the dismal beach with a confused frown, his ancient weather-toughened skin puckering like crumpled parchment. The bow slithered ashore.

"Declare yourself and make offering for your passage!" A section of the restless mob soared over, each frail spirit jostling for a prime spot to beg permission to come aboard, their voices combined in a rasping whisper. Kharon irritably shooed them away with a flick of his gnarled hand and they scattered. "Make plain your intention or remain here forever to lament on the Shore of Nothingness!"

Bacchus slid as quietly as possible onto the deck. His weight rocked the boat with a noticeable sloshing sound. Kharon was instantly alert, his eyes raking the sodden floor of his vessel for a sneaky stowaway. The Captain sensed a vague presence but his eyes deceived him, as there was nowhere to hide and no one visible. He retracted his pole and began jabbing it about, just to be sure his suspicions were wrong. Bacchus could conceal himself with the Helmet and the herbs, but his voice would be clearly audible if he received a sharp prod and cried out, then the ruse would be ruined.

As silently as he could, Bacchus brought out a feather he'd collected from Nimbus's wing-rot episode back at Jinx's. A Cherub's feathers were impervious to flame and granted blissful serenity to any blessed enough to hold one. They were extremely valuable. Kharon's dogged stabbing came within millimetres of Bacchus's foot and he hastily pulled his legs to his chest. The Captain would not miss with his next stroke.

Bacchus fluttered the feather up into the air where it appeared in front of Kharon's grizzled features, drifting down into his line of sight. He paused, his expression one of astonishment. His hand automatically reached to pluck it from the greasy atmosphere. He took on an unfocused, dreamy look as his fingers gently closed about the delicate gift.

"Your fare is satisfactory," the Captain murmured, as he moved away to commence pushing the barge from the shore. The pathetic occupants of the beach moaned sadly, their hopes for a break from eternal tedium fading once again, the pain more intense for its false promise.

Exhaling softly, Bacchus settled in, grateful for the trip and a brief chance to rest weary limbs. He was getting too long in the tooth for such high adventure! Kharon tucked the feather behind his ear, and unbeknownst to Bacchus, was in the throes of a euphoria the likes of which he'd not experienced since first consuming a barrel of genuine Buccaneer's Rum. He started singing an abominable version of 'Yo Ho Ho a Pirate's Life for Me!'. Bacchus eagerly wished he were deaf, the ear-splitting screech of a Chimera preferable.

He desperately scrutinised the horizon for a sign of land and was not disappointed. Hades' flamboyant abode glimmered close enough to reveal its over-wrought architecture and gilded exterior, with soaring minarets connected by a complex of bridges, expansive balconies protected by excessively filigreed railings and a high wall enclosing the lot. Subtlety was not one of Hades personal qualities. Within were well-tended orchards, freely roaming herds of cattle and other domesticated beasts, and fabulous gardens filled with exotic but deadly or flesh-eating flowers and other things even more wicked. The pile was also surrounded by a deep moat, home to several vicious Water-Dragons.

Still, Bacchus believed that he would not need to enter the Palace, merely get close so when he blew on the Horn of the Host, the Most High would be within earshot. The barge bumped to a halt at an equally wobbly-looking jetty. Bacchus disembarked after carefully skirting the Captain, who was still entranced and singing (if it could be called that) his tuneless dirge. Bacchus reflected it was a true talent to take a lively sea shanty and turn it into a funeral song, an off-key one at that.

He was almost unbalanced into the slick, foul-smelling mud below as a mad dash of inhabitants attempted to flee their ordeal in the afterlife, hurling themselves at the Captain, who simply closed his eyes and chanted a warding curse so they pounded onto the rank beach. Bacchus clung to the jetty pylon until the most fraught escapees were persuaded to stay.

He eventually picked his way through those more timid and made it to land. He ate his next ration of herbs and allowed himself a few generous swallows of his now endless supply of liqueur and refreshed, set off. He had made relatively good time on the trip over and was more optimistic of achieving his goal in a timely manner.

A completely deserted, cobbled path lead to Hades fortress and Bacchus maintained a jaunty confident stride, believing that the worst of his trials were over. A series of ramshackle hovels lined the way, their doors securely barred and shutters firmly closed to prying eyes, or worse. There was not a skulking phantom, grotesque monster or other gruesome local about.

Nevertheless, Bacchus started to feel strangely exposed. The creepy sensation he was stalked, sent warning goose bumps up his spine. He hastily munched more herbs to be on the safe side and scrutinised the surrounds trying to locate the source of dread, but could not perceive anything out of the ordinary. He increased his pace. One more block brought him close enough to blow the Horn. The place was undeniably disturbing and it was getting to him! That was all, surely?

Ahead was a bend beyond which lay a wide incline; the grand parade to the Palace. Not far now. Relief surged, the current position of prime dependable God far too much responsibility for one not inclined. He rounded the corner and stopped dead still. Intense fear washed over him and his stomach lurched and writhed like a bag of eels. He gulped and held his breath. In the very centre of the pathway, some cubits above ground, glistened several swirling phosphorescent smears. The soft keening of wind through a deserted house came from the luminous patches of fog and Bacchus strained to snatch fragments of the words embedded within.

"It will be a feast like no other. Blood for all, my sisters!"

From behind Bacchus, an ice-pick to his skull, joined a rasping cackle. "And the entrée is right on time! Hail, Bacchus, my slippery rival. Couldn't stay away?"

He spun on the spot. "Stygia, my dear! Sharing gossip with the girls?" Bacchus manoeuvred so that he was sidelong to this sinister Coven and could watch all of them simultaneously.

"Yes," she hissed gleefully. "We were chatting about sharing you!"

Their voices joined in a thin wail of pleasure, for these were the foulest of Hades things. Known as Lamia -- ghastly witches standing on serpentine tails -- they were blood suckers of the worst kind. Although preferring to siphon the life source from children, they would take what they could get. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on bias), the pickings in Hades were slim for those favouring the youthful, and they were always famished. Sin usually took a while to accrue and youngsters didn't have the time.

"We have foreseen Azazel's intent and will gorge when he prevails! But you will do for now."

Her voice chafed the air as her physical form came into view like some horrible flickering mirage. Bacchus sorely wished they were a hallucination, but having encountered them on his last trip, knew they were real. Their corporeal leader towered over Bacchus, her bluish skin blotched with leprous disease, her hollow fangs pointed and yellow. Her hair hung to her waist in lank green clumps. Her eyes rested on her cheeks, and where they should have been, were empty raw sockets seeping pinkish fluid like tears.

Although, technically they were blind, Bacchus was as clear as Alexander's Lighthouse to them. No entity hid from their psychic vision. Stygia's ghastly pet vulture clung to her shoulder eyeing Bacchus beadily, its mournful mood lifting at the sight of such an ample potential snack. Stygia's taloned fingers raised and moved in ceaseless anticipation, the long knife-like nails clicking. She drifted slowly towards Bacchus and her excited sisters came into full body to follow. He was in real trouble at present and utterly unarmed.

"So good of you to forgo clothing and spare us the trouble. All the better to carve those juicy love handles!"

"His breasts are larger than mine." A particularly well-endowed witch enthused.

"I claim the rump!" Another called, barely containing her excitement. "It's huge! I'll be full for a month!"

Although supremely miffed they'd not noted his obvious weight loss (surely being deprived of deep fried peacock had slimmed him down?), Bacchus used the only weapon at his disposal -- persuasion-- to stall for time.

"Ladies, ladies. What's the hurry? Perhaps another glimpse of the future might prove fruitful. Just to be sure things will turn out the way you've predicted? After all, it really would not do to aggravate Hades further, since your last incident. I believe he threatened to tear-up your lease and where would you live if that were to happen? Even the worst shack in the err..." He appraised the so-called street and chose honesty, "most appalling suburb, is better than nothing?"

They gibbered in outrage at this reminder of a bungled raid on Hades' herd, swaying and crooning hysterically. "It was one weeny calf!" whined a witch in high-pitched indignation.

"We were starving."

"Our King," spat Stygia, "values his Oxen more than his dedicated subjects! Glorious fields of lush grass, fresh hay and cream to drink, while we suffer and waste away!"

"That's really too bad." Nodded Bacchus sympathetically. He'd clearly hit a sore point. "Have you approached your Union Rep?"

He struggled to erase his thoughts as the desire to blow the Horn gained urgency. The witches were oracles and could read upcoming events as though flicking through a calendar. They could also read minds, but it was not an exact science due to the overwhelming amount of cosmic information they needed to sift, searching for the illuminating nuggets in much the same way as a prospector pans for gold.

Stygia began a rhythmic chant and her eyeballs stretched on their sinewy nerves like odd, squelchy balloons on a string. Her sisters joined in, their jaundiced eyeballs bobbing in unison. Bacchus's gullet flooded with bile and he fought the need to heave. His stubborn brain kept showing him pictures of the Horn at his lips. He simply must find something else to think about or become a moveable feast for these grisly ghouls. But it was too late.

Stygia's orbs whipped down. "Deceit!" she screamed.

He had no time to lose; their full spite focused upon him and they readied to attack. He fumbled for the Horn, which snarled in the handle of his bag. Their tails whipped about savagely and they lifted their razored digits, poised to slice him open.

"Yak's crap!" A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his brow. "Come on!"

He pulled and tugged to no avail and the furious vampires were almost upon him. He could smell their stinking breath, reminiscent of the slaughter house. Bacchus vaguely heard the rabid call of the vulture and their eager screeches as he silently meditated for calm and concentrated on achieving his goal. With nimble-fingered speed he disentangled the Horn and drew it to his mouth.

Clawed hands reached towards his face, one aiming to viciously swat the trumpet away. Bacchus held on for all he was worth. Their frustrated shrieks sent slivers of ice through his veins and his knees trembled. Out of the frenzy of roughly grasping and pinching hands, sharp nails lanced his front, causing a blazing fire over his belly. He looked down to see four long ribbons of blood, which flowed freely down his legs and dripped sickeningly onto his feet.

The witches writhed with renewed vigour, gurgling with joy at the smell. But Bacchus was not a God for nothing, and although he was severely weakened by his time in the Underworld, he possessed an inner resolve the equal of any of his lofty peers. He was, after all, pivotal in their triumphant battle against the Titans who foolishly tried to storm Mt Olympus. He fixed upon his aggravation at the short-sighted actions of his colleagues, who'd placed himself and his Fledgling Angels smack in the middle of Sodom and Gomorrah.

The last vestiges of his power blasted forth and ivy curled up his legs twining around his body to cover his skin in spring-fresh greenery. The witches' grappling, rotted hands exploded from him, unaccustomed to this radiating life-force. Bacchus drew the Horn to his lips, took a deep breath and blew. No sound could be heard. The witches flew apart and raced away, their shrill squeals fading.

Abruptly the ground beneath his feet tipped and buckled, sending him to a sprawl in the grimy muck. The earth quaked and groaned, demolishing the flimsy huts into dusty heaps, one after the other like collapsing dominos. A whooshing roar blotted out all else and Bacchus could only curl into a bleeding ball, clamping his head between his elbows to ride out the upheaval. Somehow, he did not believe that this unfolding cataclysm was due to the Skylar's Horn; something far worse was happening!

***

Chapter Thirteen

Betrayal

"FLEE! Get out!" Nimbus screamed through the maelstrom with supreme effort before he gave himself up to the crushing end.

His words were blown apart as a huge pillar crashed to the ground, barely avoiding the outermost animals in the jam-packed herd. Lacking support, a vast chunk of ceiling crumbled inwards, launching a crushing deluge of debris on those below. The cries of the injured joined the cacophony.

Nimbus was thrust face-down onto the back of a galloping white cow, too feeble to fight his desolation or safely cling on. Missiled stone and rubble flayed his back and wings. Sorrow and pain utterly conquered his will and mingled with consuming shame at his uselessness. Nimbus slumped over defeated and waited for oblivious release from this frightening vision where goodness abandoned the world.

The mad bellows of the lesser beasts overcame the directives of those guiding the exodus from the Chamber. They threatened to cause a panicked stampede, which would certainly end in many trampled, with Equinox in front valiantly attempting to preserve order. Her foals offered assistance from on high and Pegasus whinnied encouragement from the outer steps. Regardless, the golden-horned deer leapt wildly this way and that in a disorganised jumble searching hysterically for a way out, their hooves a panicked tattoo. An inky blackness crept slowly up the ruined walls, as though alive with an evil, ravenous presence. And above it all, the increasing drone of Azazel could be heard as he read aloud words never meant for one so depraved.

"Nimbus!" Celestial's strident yell penetrated the gloom.

He lifted his head in time to see his Other burst onto the podium and barge the Dark Angel from his position. With desperate strength she tackled him sending them headlong into the seething mass of animals, where Nimbus momentarily lost sight of them. The Book of Lore left Azazel's flailing hands and was catapulted high into the air. Glorious light invaded the space. Vitality surged through Nimbus's body and he extended his wings to take flight. But there was something wrong and he couldn't unfurl one of them. Fraught, he quickly examined the wing over his shoulder, devastated to discover it drooping and broken. No matter how he urged, it remained unresponsive. He had no time to heal it and catch the Book!

In slow motion, Nimbus tracked its toppling arc through the void. He scrambled precariously over heaving rumps, dragging his wing while keeping his eyes glued on the target. He would never make it. The herd had finally broached the exit and trickled single-file from the Chamber into the courtyard. Their timing couldn't have been worse. The thinning numbers no longer provided a firm plateau and became dangerously mobile obstacles.

As he dodged and darted through the crowd, Nimbus briefly caught sight of Celestial involved in a most unladylike scuffle with Azazel on the floor, legs and arms askew. He appeared to be gaining the upper hand as he flipped her, tearing her fingers from his eye sockets to viciously bring his knee down onto her stomach, easily pinning her winded form as he doggedly sought the Book's location. Celestial stayed curled over, her half-hidden face a mask of distress.

"NO!" Nimbus hollered in consternation for his twin and in frustration, as the Book began its spinning descent and he remained blocked by a dashing wall of the Gods' pets.

Azazel's head whipped around and he stared at Nimbus, calculating the direction of his focus. An exultant leer twisted Azazel's features as he discovered the Book of Lore' landing place and leisurely drew back his fist in readiness to inflict a hideously damaging blow upon the inert figure in his grip. Nimbus cursed his own stupidity and changed course aiming for Azazel.

Again, he would not arrive in time to prevent the strike. It seemed he always came too late! A camel lumbered between Nimbus and this horrid scene, obstructing his view and he hurried the stubbornly slow creature with a stinging slap to its thigh. It careened away. Nimbus craned anxiously as he weaved, his worry for Celestial almost unbearable. Until an opening revealed a totally altered and wondrous sight.

Celestial stood ablaze in bright, white light, suspended in a gentle float above the ground. A halo of stardust rotated steadily about her, galaxies of dazzling brilliance so intense as to be blinding if one looked too long; the eternal universe in miraculous miniature. A soothing feeling of peace stole over Nimbus. Celestial maintained a serene expression, her golden curls fanning her tilted head. Azazel grovelled at her feet, spasming and groaning. Gradually Celestial opened her eyes seeking a stunned Nimbus. She mouthed 'get the Book' and smiled tranquilly.

The animals halted, creating an unimpeded pathway. Nimbus jogged to where he was sure it had dropped, swiftly tossing wrecked furniture and tattered silk out of the way to better survey the floor. He moved bits of stuffing, pottery and ripped artworks, magnificent in their former incarnations. He searched and searched, to no avail, positive he targeted its resting place. But it was simply nowhere to be seen. Where had the Book of Lore Fallen, then? His wing throbbed and he supported himself on an elaborate piece of thick wood, once the long side of a painting frame, his face screwed in confusion and anxiety.

"Looking for this," came a sly voice near the massive golden doors, one now hanging perilously at an angle.

The calm that descended over the remaining animals disappeared as suddenly as it had come and they stamped and called nervously, some already in motion. Nimbus sighed tiredly as Ram, one hand burning below the Book he dangled by its corner, leaned casually against the wall. The Dark Angel shot wary glances at Pegasus, who paced restlessly at his back.

"Call her off my Master. Nothing fancy or we'll have ourselves a little bonfire," he sneered, waving an angry red flame closer to the Book. "And make them land."

"Don't do anything stupid, Ram. That Book serves you as well." Nimbus nodded for the foals to join their mother on the ground.

"I can be as stupid as I want! You're not in a position to tell me what to do. Now call her off or break out the marshmallows!"

Nimbus knew Ram would not be dumb enough to destroy his only bargaining chip. He also knew Celestial was exhausted and could not sustain her power for much longer. Neither could Ram for that matter. Nimbus needed a diversion to buy some time. The herd stamped and shuffled uneasily. As if on cue, the camel he'd bumped into previously wobbled close by. It was wounded, with several deep lacerations to its hump and haunches, which bled profusely. Nimbus silently apologised to the beast for what he was about to do. Unnoticed by Ram, he firmed his grip on his make-shift crutch. He put one free hand up in surrender, surreptitiously bracing his feet.

"Alright, you win. Again," Nimbus said resignedly, pretending a moment of instability as he raised himself upright.

"I'm warning you, no whistling either!"

"Not!" In a lightening burst Nimbus whipped the rod out and across the camel's rump. It bucked and skittered haphazardly through the group, battering animals nearby and reinitiating the rush. In distress and out of control, the camel dashed against the flow and was hurtled sideways to violently collide with the Chair of Forgetfulness. It rocked on its heavy base throwing Jam to the ground, where he vanished in a forest of pounding legs.

Meanwhile, Celestial's energy deserted and she lost her hold on Azazel to sink to the floor. There they lay side by side, both apparently too spent to move. Ram stood rooted to the spot trying to attend the enemies encircling dangerously. The fire in his hand flickered uncertainly and his Book arm trembled under the strain. He spun towards the Chamber opening, his access barred by Pegasus. Tucking the Book under an arm, he hurled a huge fireball at the winged stallion and pelted out the door. A cascading barrier of flame trapped the rest inside the Chamber of Greats, the fire lashing the beasts into a terrorised lather.

Suddenly a figure exploded from the throng. "CAMEL! It's a camel!" To race after Ram, unimpeded by the inferno.

During the fracas, Nimbus worked to cure his broken wing and now sprang into the air, issuing instructions over his shoulder to Equinox and her colts. "Guard Azazel. Help Celestial, get the animals out!"

He torpedoed through the fire using his wings as a shield, looping upwards to swoop high over the courtyard and survey the land below. Nimbus circled once to check on Pegasus, who suffered numerous burns and lay on his side, licking blackened patches of fur and feathers. On catching sight of Nimbus, the mighty horse whinnied and Nimbus knew he would survive. He left the square, gaining altitude and eventually spotted Ram sprinting towards the outer reaches of the Ethereal Realm, where the dimensions between worlds blurred and he would be able to dematerialise.

Behind him in close pursuit was Jam running like a madman, the gap between them diminishing. Nimbus speared the air, his wings tucked close to his body to easily eradicate his starting delay and touch down some distance in front of his quarry. He concealed himself in an outcrop of rocks that narrowed the path to create an ideal place for an ambush and waited. He heard puffed snatches of debate long before they appeared.

"We have to take the Book back to Azazel, Ram! He'll kill us!"

"How do you know what he'll do? And why should I trust you? All that time with them and you didn't return even though you could have! Over a girl!"

"Her Other vexed me! I have only just now come out of it. Must have been the shock of the camel."

Nimbus detected the angst in Jam's voice and imagined him shuddering. He wriggled for a better view, peeking out to see them walk slowly over the rise.

Ram chuckled. "All the insidious fiends on our realm and you are frightened of camels!"

"Yes, well at least I'm not scared of figurines. As I was saying, taking the Book home is not the brightest idea. Imagine what would happen if some of the warped simpletons below were to accidentally possess the Book. I once saw the Chief of the Imps replace the faces of his entire council with their butts for some minor infraction. Do you fancy walking around with two anuses and no face? Meal times were a total debacle! We should take the Book back and help rescue Azazel. Then we shall be praised like no others."

"Why have you turned into such a fun-suck all of a sudden? We will be praised like no others if we keep it with us!" Ram snapped sourly.

"You should listen to your brother, Ramiel. Or is it that you would perhaps keep the Book for yourself? Wreak a little vengeance on my gargoyles, possibly?"

Nimbus was horribly shaken by the imperious tone of Azazel himself, but not us much as Jam, who visibly paled at the unexpected arrival of his Master. Azazel's head and body emerged in increments as he broached the ridge. How had he escaped? Was Celestial alive and safe? Jam and Ram turned to face Azazel, stances tense and edgy.

Ram bowed obsequiously. "Of course not my Master! I was keeping it secure. Out of the polluted grasp of the pure! And I greatly admire your gargoyles, and wish them only the best," he babbled with a fake earnest expression. "Remember, I rescued you from that other \--"

"Enough!" Azazel waved a hand testily in Jam's direction. He to fell to the ground unconscious. The Book tumbled to the sandy earth.

Jam's eyes went wide in alarm. "What have you done? My brother! Does he breathe still?" He crouched over Ram.

"Naturally. Now prove your loyalty and bring me the Book!"

Jam moved to collect it. Nimbus argued heatedly with himself, unsure whether to let events unfold or immediately liberate the Book. Where was Celestial? She'd left him alone again! He had no clue whose side Jam was on, discriminating the intentions of others another of his seemingly endless weaknesses. Jam reverentially picked up the Book and took a faltering step to his master.

"Come Boy! Your progress is glacial and we don't have eons!"

Nimbus detected a twitching muscle near Jam's eye. He gulped and confronted his Master. "No, I will not give you the Book." His bravery astounded Nimbus; Jam was going to stand up to Azazel unaided! "It is against the Universal Laws and they are binding. You will bring ruination on us all with your lust for power!" He pulled the Book close to his chest.

"You will provoke the wrath of the sleeping Divine One and wake the evil counterpart. You will breach the cosmic balance and I cannot let it happen. We must abide the Essential Tapestry!"

"Very courageous," the Dark Angel snarled. "I have underestimated you, Jomjael of the Fallen. Embrace your annihilation, betrayer!"

"I will take the Book with me!" Jam shouted his body crackling with blue sparks.

Ozone filled the air and Nimbus perceived a low humming sound, increasing in intensity. Jam prepared to obliterate himself and the Book. He would not have the power and Nimbus could wait no longer to take action. He blasted forth from his crevice, racing passed Jam to wrest Azazel, who was taken completely unawares, to the dirt. They rolled back down the hill like the Sisyphus Boulder, the Dark Angel thrashing and fighting to break free. Nimbus held on for all he was worth, as he was mercilessly bludgeoned.

"RUN, Jam!"

But for some obscure reason, Jam procrastinated on the crest peering down at the squirming duo. The Book was nowhere to be seen. Nimbus was rapidly losing and the only weapon available was Skylar's worthless glove! What could he do with it? Slap his adversary and claim pistols at dawn? Azazel expelled a guttural roar and heaved Nimbus into the air. He was tossed onto his back with a force that vented breath from his body. He stayed prone, a panting fish out of water, burning lungs begging for oxygen.

If Azazel made it back over the other side of the hill with the Book, he could leave the Ethereal Realm to return at will. They could never relax again! The Elders would have no solutions to questions of Eternal Protocol, which if performed incorrectly, could warp time and cause everlasting suffering for the people it aimed to help.

Nimbus groaned and thrust himself over onto his stomach. He clung to Azazel's foot, dragged back towards Jam. Azazel struck out, his heel connecting Nimbus's cheek with excruciating efficiency. Lightening seared Nimbus's skull, he relinquished his hold and sagged to the earth. Jam remained immobile, a defiant stare fixed on his Master. Azazel strode forward and in three long paces his outstretched hands snapped closed in an unbreakable vice about Jam's neck.

"What have you done with the Book," he demanded, spraying Jam with foamy spittle. Jam made a choking sound as the noose tightened, and tried to prise the throttling fingers from his throat.

Nimbus fumbled for the glove, his last hope. Maybe it had unforseen powers, unleashed when it was worn. Azazel raised Jam slowly off the ground, his feet dangling awkwardly.

"Where is my book?"

Over Azazel's shoulder, Nimbus had an awful view of Jam's bulging eyes. The skin on his face turned a mottled purple and one hand scratched helplessly at his occluded windpipe. The other flapped impotently at Nimbus, begging.

"Gglll," Jam gagged.

Nimbus winced and pulled himself up on all fours to commence an interminable crawl forwards. His jaw felt ripped from its hinges and was not repairing regardless of his efforts. Azazel must have cursed the wound. Jam contorted ferociously, his arm waving with renewed vigour.

"Gglll!" he sputtered.

He attempted to communicate. Nimbus stopped, the seconds slowing as he focused his attention to a pinpoint. What in the Seven Virtues was he trying to say? Nimbus squinted up at him. Jam's head started to loll weakly, his tongue protruding. His eyes rolled back in his head and Nimbus believed he'd lost the fight to survive. But Jam's death did not serve Azazel's purpose. He dropped the limp youth contemptuously.

"We will repeat that process until you yield the Book!"

Jam convulsed in the dust, greedily pulling air. Azazel levelled a harsh kick at Jam's ribs and Nimbus heard the bones crack. Unbowed, Jam grasped his midriff, rolled over and valiantly hoisted himself up on one hand. He stared meaningfully at Nimbus.

"Glove," he whispered so quietly Nimbus strained to hear him.

"What!" Azazel incorrectly interpreted Jam's word as a confession on the Book's whereabouts. "TELL ME!"

Nimbus rolled the glove into a ball and as covertly as possible, flicked it to the ground in front of Jam, who adeptly reached out to grab it and conceal it within a fist. He winked at Nimbus and mouthed 'stay'.

"Never!" Jam turned back to Azazel and yelled rebelliously.

Azazel's wrath ignited, his hatred rippling out in waves. "You will wish for death!" He hauled Jam roughly to his feet and yanked his crippled form down the track towards the edges of the Ethereal Realm. Nimbus painfully lurched upright and stumbled after them.

***

Chapter Fourteen

The Horn of the Host

All went still and Bacchus gingerly stretched his cramped, aching limbs. He was clothed in tribal red but merely looked the worse for wear as his ivy had sealed the witches' cuts and he was no longer bleeding. Unhappily, his enchantment would not undo the disease now ravaging his body and transforming him into carrion for their pleasure. They did not favour their victims sprightly, too much effort in the chase. He needed more advanced healing and was unlikely to get it in this damnable place. He had to hurry, time was shorter than ever.

He laboured to his feet, feeling far older than his ancient age and pining for Zeus's footstool, a shot of liquor-laced molten chocolate and a good scroll to peruse. Perhaps the romance Venus had recommended. He staggered a few steps, enduring the fiery acid leaching into his muscles, but was spared the need to progress further when the great flamboyant gates of Hades' Palace slid open.

Rhadamanthys, Hades' highest official and ultimate Judge, stepped out onto the lowered drawbridge. He wore a floor-length red tunic, a circlet of rubies held his white hair neatly in place and his long beard was anchored by a broach bearing Hades' Insignia. He carried the Sceptre of Retribution with which he dealt a person's penance in the Underworld. Bacchus sagged with relief, it was all he could do to remain upright. Unlike his peers, Rhadamanthys was fair and level-headed, even almost kindly.

The reprieve was temporary, however, when he caught sight of the individual following. Aimrod! The high priest of the Black Order of the Dark Angels. A more shrewd and malignant being there never was, his spiked and tattooed face hidden beneath the folds of his black, hooded cassock.

Bacchus quickly removed the Helmet, popped it into his sack, and slouched onto a sizeable chunk of rubble to await their descent, his head bowed as he mustered the stamina to go on. If only he had his Thyrsus, his own staff from which he drew power and security. But Celestial had discarded it amongst his other belongings before their trip. That girl really needed to learn respect for opinions more experienced.

If he escaped his ordeal in Hell, he pledged to begin the Cherubs' training in earnest. The first lesson on the sacredness of one's personal Instrument of Influence (given his own inclination to abuse others' blessed objects, the ethics of such a lecture were mighty sticky, but he would float that cloud if he reached it).

"Bacchus, my excellent fellow! Back so soon? What brings you to our humble chunk of the universe?" Rhadamanthys boomed heartily. "And what's the rumpus? A couple of Hades' baubles fell off. He does not like it when that happens!"

"Your Honour, Supreme Bloodar Aimrod," Bacchus nodded weakly. "Seems we have a situation. A member of your staff is operating outside the Divine Plan, trying to read from the Book on the Pedestal. Couldn't get me a word or two with Zeus by chance?"

Before Rhadamanthys reacted, Aimrod interjected silkily, "Well, if Azazel succeeds that would be destined. We should never deign to intervene in such lordly matters."

Only his pinched mouth was observable. Bacchus narrowed. How had Aimrod known he referred to Azazel?

"Roddy, Roddy," Rhadamanthys admonished, shaking his head as though addressing a wayward child. Aimrod's lips thinned murderously.

He clearly didn't enjoy being known as 'Roddy' and Bacchus stored the fact for later. If later got its sorry self into gear and finally arrived. The judge reflectively stroked his long grey beard, ignoring the petulant display. "It would only be destined, if he succeeded despite our involvement. Now we are appraised of the circumstances."

"I beg to differ, Rhaddy," Aimrod responded acidly, but Bacchus prevented further debate.

"This is no time for philosophising!" Bacchus fought to keep conscious.

"Indeed!" clapped Rhadamanthys. "It is time, however, to apprehend a wanted felon. One charged with multiple crimes against our lands." He materialised a scroll, which unfurled until it made the ground. "Trespass and kidnapping of a resident for instance. So on and so forth. And just when your mother was less-than-happily settled."

"W-what!?" spluttered Bacchus, suddenly keenly attentive. "We have to alert the Elders! NOW! Or it will be too late!"

The Judge clicked his fingers. "Attendants!" he called. "Lock him in the infirmary and see to his condition. Strip him of his possessions. Do not take your eyes off him. He's a wily one."

Aimrod cracked his knuckles beneath his sleeves and smirked. It was a farcical expression of joy and Bacchus briefly wondered if it hurt such a corrupt creature to smile. From guard booths spanning the fortress wall, two huge warthogs with long, nasty-looking tusks, mean yellow eyes and hides of thick wiry hair appeared. Their ears were pierced with large golden rings and they wore leather vests chained in front. They swaggered upright on two hind legs, grunting and squealing with far too much gusto for Bacchus's liking. Long scimitars hung from their belts, the blades meticulously sharpened. Excellent, Bacchus mused ruefully, pigs with small brains and big, pointy sticks! He had but a moment to act.

"And boys," Rhadamanthys advised with a fatherly tone, "the emphasis is on imprisonment, not impalement. Captives tend not to survive minus their entrails, so goring is definitely out! Not to mention we've had some complaints from the Domestics. Seems splattered intestines are very difficult to spot clean."

He eased the stress of managing unruly employees by massaging his crinkled forehead. "If you're good, I may grant you some recreation leave down below to frolic with the damned." His generosity garnered a hail of enthused snorts.

While this occurred, Bacchus slid out the Horn of the Host. Feigning a particularly bad turn, he'd doubled over. He bent low, bringing it to his lips and straightened rapidly, causing a shredding pain in his abdomen. Aimrod's mortified frown made the agony worth it, and Bacchus grinned at the High Priest as he blew three short bursts.

The earth shuddered and a low rumble could be heard. The boars looked around dimly, one gawking skywards with its ugly jaw sagging, slobber trickling down its bristly chin.

"Reinforcements!" commanded Rhadamanthys. A torrent of warrior warthogs spewed from the castle. Soon, Bacchus would be swamped. "Seize him! Seize him!" But the two soldiers present were distracted by the gathering din and slow to respond.

"Allow me!" Aimrod threw back his hood, unveiled auburn wings and propelled himself at Bacchus, landing forcefully on his chest with hands and feet to hurl him to the ground. He growled savagely, his face bare millimetres from Bacchus. Elongated spines that dripped venom projected in a line from his cheeks and across his brow. Cruel fangs grew as Bacchus watched, along with claws designed to rend flesh. His stark white skin was covered with mesmerising pitch symbols, that swirled and writhed.

"Delightful! May I suggest a breath mint?"

"You will not be so flippant when I'm through with you!" Aimrod leered, closer still to suggestively smack his teeth together in Bacchus's ear. He dragged a talon teasingly over Bacchus's cheek.

"Can't we discuss our differences over a drink for once, like civilised entities?"

"Who said I'm civilised?" Aimrod made a horrible sucking sound with his tongue. Bacchus was far too weak to fight back. The sickness in his bones had taken a terrible toll. He reflected on how relaxing it would be to finally give in, but defeat was not in his nature.

"Just a spot of advice. You might contemplate running before it's too late."

Aimrod sat upright, straddled Bacchus and laughed deliriously. From deep below, came a the grinding of rock, louder than Judgement Day. A yawning tear appeared in the terrain, travelling quickly in a widening chasm. Its path created a gorge between Rhadamanthys and the surging swine, isolating Aimrod and Bacchus on one side. Hogs toppled into the subterranean crack, their squeals fading down into the murk. Rhadamanthys teetered on the edge of the cliff, shouting and gesturing, his words incoherent across the fissure.

"Your Superior does not seem to favour your method of justice," Bacchus commented mildly.

His joints stiffened. Soon he'd become a solidified, useless lump. The pressure on his chest felt like lead, due to hardening lungs from the witches' toxin, rather than the weight of Aimrod, whom Bacchus would ordinarily have been able to flick off like an inconsequential speck.

"I have no superior. Rhadamanthys is a senile old grub with delusions of important rank! His authority is over." Aimrod triumphantly exposed his teeth.

"You're behind Azazel's plot. How have they been coming and going without attracting attention?" Bacchus wheezed with monumental effort.

He found breathing remarkably taxing, speech slurred and his eyelids drooped. His flesh remembered the worst beating of youth, when both Urg the Ugly and Grendel had taken exception to his wooing their girlfriend. Bacchus had never thought to repeat that pain, but felt it now in every molecule .

"I had Azazel and his charges consigned to administrative duties, so they were not required to attend the Enclave. It was enough to have my shape-shifters show themselves occasionally, in his guise and that of his Fledglings, and their presence was assumed --"

He did not get the chance to finish. With a shattering roar Skylar's ghostly polar bears advanced in an unbreachable line up and over the edge of the sink hole. Anarchy prevailed as the Bear Spirits easily swatted aside any pigs brazen enough to challenge their progress.

Aimrod leaped backwards onto his feet, screaming obscenities. "What manner of self-righteous meddling is this!"

Bacchus tumbled stiffly onto his side, where he lay as motionless as granite, observing events through horizontal slits. Accepting an exercise in futility, most of the Guard made a disordered retreat towards the shelter of the Castle. Rhadamanthys gesticulated madly, issuing frazzled commands to his unheeding troops. His crown of rubies was awry and he shook his Sceptre in frustration as an unyielding barricade of Bears advanced towards him. He backed-tracked uncertainly up the rise, belatedly grasping the fact his protection team performed their duties admirably -- in protecting their own hides. His soldiers had scattered and were nowhere to be seen.

"Let them destroy the pitiful fool!" Aimrod sneered as he spun to face Bacchus. "They don't seem to have your security in mind though, do they?"

This point was regrettably true, although Bacchus was too incapacitated to communicate his agreement. Even his partially open eyelids had seized. Aimrod strolled to Bacchus's side and knelt with leisurely ease. He thrust his evil face down so that it once again blighted Bacchus' view.

"Hmm, what to do with you? Ordinarily, you would experience the privilege of my hypnotic tattoos, which offer a panorama of my world's most treasured delights. An infinity of horrors that even the most resilient find impossible to withstand. It is difficult to maintain a belief in anything after such grand vision." He gave a humourless bark that may have been a laugh, Bacchus was unsure.

"But on you, I feel it would be wasted at this moment, trapped in the shell of your unsightly, bloated body as you are," he eyed Bacchus with disdain. "I find a victim's reactions most enlightening and am loathe to deprive myself."

Aimrod sat back on his haunches and stared distractedly off, clearly contemplating options for more appropriate abuse. In the distance, Rhadamanthys could be heard beseeching the Tower Guards to lower the bridge and allow him access, as the Bears pressed in on him, forcing him closer to the edge of the moat and the hungry serpents thrashing below.

The loyalty of Rhadamanthys' workers was evidently patchy. Bacchus reflected idly that a revision of management practices might be in order. For the first time in long memory, his scheming brain came up blank, and he could only languish physically entombed, as a series of absurd thoughts wandered consciousness. He dreamed of his lost sandals, wished for one final card game with his mischievous friend Pan (usually an exchange where outrageous cheating was applauded), and found himself acutely disappointed he would not carry-out his proudest appointment -- tutoring Celestial and Nimbus. He was surprised by the admission, as his fuel-deprived mind dimmed permanently.

"No!" Aimrod pounced and slapped Bacchus vigorously about the head. "You cannot fade! I will not have my utmost reward wasted!"

"Too late." Bacchus exhaled through lips frozen ajar.

As his spirit prepared to depart, Bacchus hallucinated a massive hurtling object that flew at Aimrod to savagely dislodged him from his squat. His enemy was propelled through the air and came to a bone-crunching sprawl, spread-eagled on his back in the dirt. A loud snarl echoed across the land and Bacchus felt a fiery sting on his thigh, which although quite painful, was oddly reassuring as it suggested he was still capable of sensation. A burn slowly spread through his body and when locked muscles loosened, he pulled a shallow, life-reviving gasp.

This was no mere vision. Bacchus weakly pulled himself upright and peered over at Aimrod. He could barely believe what he saw. Buttercup sat astride the devil, pummelling him with her huge paws.

He aggressively shoved her in the chest. "GET OFF! You stupid beast!"

Instead, she gave one giant strike, batting Aimrod's head like a chew-toy and he instantly blacked out. The Demon-Dog swivelled and fixed Bacchus in its beady focus. He tensed. It was surely too ridiculously ironic to be saved from Aimrod, only to be mauled to death by his Hell Hound!

Instead she yapped a playful greeting and sauntered over, wagging her tail. It was truly a frightening spectacle to behold three colossal, teeth-filled jaws stretched in welcoming doggy grins. She plonked herself nearby and reared upright, a begging behemoth. Bacchus blinked and scratched his head.

He'd better work out fast what she was after or he doubted he'd escape the encounter as healthily as Aimrod. He rummaged hopefully in his bag and Buttercup responded with excited yips. The yips! They reminded Bacchus of the hiccoughs back in her tunnel. Buttercup wanted more of Skylar's liqueur! He grabbed the bottle and Hades Helmet, and hoisting them out, poured a generous amount into the upturned hat. Buttercup plopped to her front paws and drank deeply.

"Well, I can't fault your taste!" Bacchus said, gingerly patting one of her snouts.

He took a large, energising gulp for himself. His attention was taken by a panicked shriek at the Castle gates, and he glanced over in time to watch a sodden Rhadamanthys, his dignity as shredded as his ragged uniform, pelt gratefully through the widening draw-bridge, three slithery aquatic dragons close on his heels. The sentinel Polar Bears dissolved quietly into the ground, leaving no trace of their presence.

After a brief pause, Bacchus was mightily relieved to hear Zeus blast a warning thunder clap at the snakes. They re-emerged and beat a hasty retreat, sliding off the path into their watery home.

"I will not be further constrained!" An angry voice trumpeted, and the legendary God himself stomped out onto the road, appearing livid.

Gabriel followed with supreme composure. Hades, with a brisk, military bearing, joined them, hauling Rhadamanthys by the scruff, as though he were one of Celestial's handbags. He wore a full dress uniform in the style of a human General, complete with highest rank epaulettes and badges of honour.

The quartet made their way down towards Bacchus, Zeus flicking a finger to mend the fissure in the road and stepping up to gently embrace his battered friend. Once free of the clinch, Gabriel reached over and placed a hand on Bacchus's forehead, reinstating him to full fitness and hygiene. With a flourish, the Archangel added a cleanly pressed white toga and a platinum circlet of ivy for his brow. Bacchus inhaled robustly.

"Thank you, Gabriel. That was most kind."

Hades dumped Rhadamanthys at Bacchus's feet and glowered at Buttercup, who noisily slurped from his valuable-beyond-measure helmet. The beast gave a small whine and cringed. The King nudged his bedraggled advisor with a persuasive toe.

"Explain yourself!" he commanded imperiously.

Aimrod moaned and stirred faintly, attracting a dark look from Gabriel. Bacchus raised a quelling hand.

"There is no time for a full account. Other matters command our immediate intervention!"

***

Chapter Fifteen

The Sword

Azazel strode towards the filmy horizon that exposed the Portal between dimensions. He tugged Jam around the neck, roughly yanking fistfuls of his feathers out as they went. A sorry trail of stark white down lead the way, reminding Nimbus of his unfortunate condition after Jinx's, which seemed trivial in comparison.

The Dark Angel murmured an incantation preventing Jam from spontaneously regrowing his wings. Nimbus could barely detect Jam fumbling with what must have been the glove, as he allowed himself to be dragged without resisting. Nimbus struggled to keep up, incapacitated as he was. Azazel's injuries were impervious to the usual Ethereal comforts and his own attempts at healing. His enemy's intent was clear -- he aimed to hurl Jam from the Tranquil Realm!

"The Book cannot be far! Your belief that I need you in order to locate it is mistaken. I will provide you with a final opportunity to reveal its hiding place or you will plummet to oblivion!"

Jam laughed weakly. "Locating it is not the issue Azazel. Obtaining it is! And I know whatever happens, my life is forfeit. You do not permit traitors to live."

Jam behaved as though unfazed by his impending death. He maintained a peaceful satisfied expression, while quietly working the glove onto his hand. He succeeded just as they reached the swirling pearlescent vapour of the Doorway.

Azazel was clearly unsettled by Jam's obvious lack of fear. He was not accustomed to facing stoic victims who did not tremble in terror and plead for mercy. He halted indecisively at his destination, clasping a limp Jam by the arm. Finally, he heaved Jam upright so they were face-to-face.

He chanted in a softly lilting voice. "You are brave and clever, Jomjael of the Fallen. In your case, I will make an exception and spare you. Would you not relish the chance to spend time with the object of your yearning? Indeed, she would make a beautiful and worthy companion. Give me the Book and I will grant your desire," the last was a whispering caress.

Even though Jam maintained the hex had worn off, that he was no longer obsessed with Celestial, Nimbus found himself silently compelling Jam to acquiesce to Azazel's most reasonable request. He stumbled forward a few steps, intending to persuade Jam that even though Celestial was admittedly argumentative, bossy and of dubious fashion aptitude, at least he would never be bored, and that yes, despite the fact her face was usually puckered in prudish disapproval, she was alright looking. In all, Nimbus reluctantly conceded she'd make a vaguely descent catch. Luckily, an agonising spasm caused him to crouch hidden nearby, before he could present his viewpoint.

Jam shook his head and chuckled again. "I am immune to your cajoling, Azazel. Do not think you will entice me with your bewitching voice. It is for Celestial I make my sacrifice. I am unworthy to be her beloved, yet cannot live in her absence. You do me a service by killing me!"

"You are not unworthy!" Came a firm reply from Nimbus's elbow, jerking him back from the trance.

He blinked in befuddlement. Apparently Jam had lied to Ram about no longer liking Celestial. Next to him stood the very angel, calmly holding the Book of Lore. Nimbus breathed a sigh of relief, thinking how narrowly he had missed making a complete buffoon of himself in public. Again. It was short-lived though when the implications of his Other's arrival hit home.

Nimbus was too shocked to holler that bringing the Book back to their dire adversary was the first, but definitely the most magnificently stupid error Celestial had ever made. A blunder that even he could never match. She reached out and grabbed Nimbus's hand, transmitting healing power into his traumatised form. Together, their energy fixed some of the damage he'd sustained and freed him temporarily from the surging aches. They stepped out into the clearing.

"What are you doing here!" he whispered harshly, too aghast to offer thanks.

"Trust me," she muttered. "I will trade you. The Book for Jam." Celestial directed her bargain at Azazel, waving the Book in the air for him to see. His eyes narrowed sceptically.

"NO, Celestial! I did not send you the Book for this," cried Jam, squirming vigorously in Azazel's grip.

"And I will not tolerate one more death at the hands of this villain! Release him now and I will toss you the Book."

Nimbus groaned, so far the supposed plan had little merit. Azazel countered, "Throw me the Book and I will release him!"

"NO! This cannot be! Do something Nimbus!" Jam railed at him.

Nimbus opened his mouth to object and Celestial raised a finger in warning. She answered unequivocally. "I make Sacred Pact that you will have the Book, only after Jam is free."

Azazel vacillated, a distrustful look on his face. "How do I know it is the Book of Lore?"

Celestial opened its pages and Nimbus watched over her shoulder as she flicked to the section entitled 'Decorations for Fledgling-Angel Celebrations'. She read from the paragraph on party 'Don'ts'.

"I should not have the power to bewitch you, correct?"

He scowled threateningly. "Be careful what you do, young Cherub. You cup Jam's life in the hands of your decision."

"Very eloquent. Adornmicorum gaudy!" she exclaimed.

Azazel instantly became a garish clown, bedecked in fluorescent streamers, crackers, papier-mâché piñatas and all manner of kitsch. He stood dumbfounded and looking ridiculous. Jam reached out and cheekily honked his shiny red nose.

Azazel's eyes went wide with fury and he ripped at the costume with his free arm, the frenzied activity accompanied by shrill bangs, pops and whistles. Catherine Wheels exited his ears and bounced about erratically, until fizzling to a stop. Several stubbornly attached balloons noisily expelled air in mimicry of awkward body functions. The black angel blazed with outrage. Jam shook with amusement. Nimbus withheld hilarity with extreme effort.

"Do you believe me now?" Celestial inquired.

In response, Azazel viciously thrust Jam towards them, the ensuing events unfolding in agonising freeze-frame. As the small distance between them increased, Celestial made good on her oath and lobbed the Book high into the air. Azazel followed its progression with greedy eyes. His distraction provided the moment Jam had been waiting for and he pivoted back to the Dark Angel, wrenching his youth-giving opal crown from his head with a gloved hand.

This act went briefly unnoticed while the others were held spellbound by the Book's trajectory. At the pinnacle of its flight half way, a plethora of red-bound fakes appeared mid-air. It became impossible to decipher which was the original Book as numerous copies joined it in the tumble downwards.

"NOOO!" Azazel screamed, as Jam turned to run from him with the crown.

Azazel's face began to wither and his lustrous black locks sprouted grey, wiry strands. He was still faster than Jam, leaping to grab him by a fistful of hair and twisting like a discus thrower. Jam was jettisoned from their world and plunged the gulf to the Material Realm. Jam's petrified calls faded with diminishing altitude, as the wind whipped them away.

"JAM!" Celestial yelled.

She made a distressed bid for the Portal, coming too close to the still dangerous Azazel, who was not yet weakened by his advancing years. By some residual enchantment the Crown had abandoned Jam's disappearing hand, tearing the glove with it to spin in Nimbus's direction. The glove dropped at a distance too far away to be useful. Nimbus hesitated, loathe to touch Azazel's Crown with his bare skin, his arm gradually stretching out to catch the deathly tiara.

Although the delay had been minute, it was enough for Azazel to gain the advantage. He lunged for Celestial as she passed, hooking her about the waist, and with his remaining momentum tackled Nimbus from the path of the desecrating Crown. They fell in a confused heap, the Crown landing a short distance away.

This time Nimbus refused to falter and he commenced a rapid crawl towards it, dragging Azazel who clutched him by the ankle and in turn tightly held Celestial. Books deluged from above, quickly layering the ground and threatening to obscure Nimbus's dogged objective. He had to prevent Azazel from getting his Crown or Jam's loss would be for nothing!

Celestial flailed ineffectually against Azazel. "You killed him! You killed dearest Jam!"

Nimbus thrashed his legs and kicked free. He launched himself to the place where the Crown was buried and dug frantically. He pushed down through the books and touched smooth coldness. Behind him Celestial endeavoured to muster her powers in order to stop Azazel altogether, but she was too inexperienced, and it was too soon after her last attempt.

Although Celestial was valiant and tenacious, she was still only a Fledgling and could never seriously challenge the supremacy of an Angel higher in rank. Anything she could do would merely prove a delaying tactic. She did not have the physical strength to restrain him and he shook her off, leaping upright as Nimbus groped to bring forth the horrid Crown.

"Well, go on boy," he jeered. "Pick it up!"

Nimbus's patience with this evil being was as at an end. He no longer cared if his gifts made a belated emergence or if he continued to live. He had failed at every turn and felt responsible for Jam's demise. He spread his fingers, stretched down and seized the crown. He slowly turned and held it aloft.

"Come and take it!"

"That won't be necessary, such unwarranted brutality!" he tisked condescendingly, as the grey in his hair started to retract.

Nimbus's fingers automatically curled around the black pearls making a steadfast fist. He could not let go and his vitality ebbed as the parasitic Crown transferred his youthful blush to Azazel, inevitably sucking the very essence from his core. Celestial stood transfixed by horror at the sight of her Other bled of his immortality.

"Nimbus," she whimpered helplessly.

"Your gluttony has made you weak, Azazel. You must steal to gain benefit and you are now dependent on your Crown to live." Nimbus made a decision, he refused to shrink under Azazel's smug dominance. If he was to die, it would be on his own terms.

"Just words! They'll make no difference when you're gone and your spirit's trapped in my world!"

"We'll see!"

Nimbus closed his eyes and triggered the scant power he had mastery over. It tingled up his spine and infused his aching being, the blossoming tranquillity making his mind soar. Motes of pure light appeared and danced around him, multiplying in number and intensity to swirl sinuously about his body. He would have no problems with aim. The Crown insatiably pulled this new source of vigour to itself.

"What are you doing?" Celestial squealed.

Nimbus simply grinned broadly, basking joyously in his own brilliant vortex, unconcerned by the draining effect of the crown.

Azazel's face became a mask of shock as he realised Nimbus's purpose. He made a desperate lunge for the upheld Crown, but was easily repelled by the spectacular radiance now enveloping Nimbus. Any hostility he felt towards Azazel trickled away as Nimbus became one with the fabric of time and gave himself up to its grand tapestry. With startling clarity he understood both his insignificance in the Great Design and his awful importance.

Nimbus released his accumulated power, gladly offering Azazel all he possessed. His bequest hurtled from him into the ravenous vacuum of the Black Opal Crown, entirely consumed. For the briefest moment nothing happened. Nimbus slumped to his knees, his power spent, fatigued beyond description. His hand opened and the Crown dropped benignly to the ground.

Azazel stared around wildly. "Very dramatic! But all to no avail --" he shouted scornfully.

Suddenly, illumination shone from tiny spreading breaks in his skin. He held his hand up to his face and observed with an expression of rising terror, as the splits cracked wide and blinding luminescence burst out. Celestial shielded her eyes against the glare, but Nimbus watched impassively from the floor. Azazel became an incandescent figure, his mouth agape in a silent scream.

There was no explosion or shuddering jolt, just the slow erosion of his shape as the light dissipated into the air. Without fanfare he was gone; an ill-equipped vessel to contain such vastness. Wisps of writhing mist escaped from the Coronet's signature black stone, circling once before vaporising in a chorus of grateful sighs. Many stolen souls departed for their rightful places in the beyond. Celestial pelted to Nimbus, dropping down to hug him forcefully.

"A tad anticlimactic, don't you think?" he asked, secretly pleading his powers were gone for good.

"You were great, Nimbus! You finally have your Divine Powers!" she smiled proudly.

"No, Essie. They were not under my control. I knew the Crown would seek my powers in order to devour them. I just didn't oppose it. I guessed that Azazel's sorcery might malfunction if I gave willingly. I was not exactly sure what would happen, though."

"Well, in any case," she said, burying her face into his neck, "it was very brave!"

"Not enough to save Jam. He was braver than I'll ever be."

"Thank you, Nimbus, my friend! I hope you are not trying to steal my girl. Hello, dearest!" Jam stepped through the Ethereal Gateway and winked gleefully in Celestial's direction. She flushed as red as Bacchus, after his cockroach crisping at Mercury's.

She awkwardly cleared her throat. "How in the Ark of the Covenant are you still alive?"

"It was the strangest thing! As I tumbled through the sky to certain death, a giant hand fashioned from pillowy clouds cushioned my fall."

Celestial and Nimbus stared at each other. "Zeus!" they exclaimed.

"Come on, Nimbus," Celestial said as she jumped to her feet. She towed Nimbus shakily up beside her. "Thank the majestic Lords! Let's go greet them!"

As they started back towards the Chamber of Greats, Jam loitered by the doorway, looking troubled. Celestial turned to him.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked impatiently.

"I... I do not belong," he stammered.

"Like Sacrilege! You belong here more than I! Now hurry up. We don't want to miss the fireworks," Nimbus urged.

"There will be celebrations, so soon?"

Celestial stifled a giggle. "Nope official fun will wait until after. It's Zeus's temper exploding that you don't want to miss. He'll go off like Greek Fire when he sees the state of the place and discovers the full extent of Azazel's disobedience!"

Jam nodded, going a shade paler. "Ahh, with wrath I am very familiar! The Gods of my world are always venting their spleen! It is very messy and usually unwise to be around them. Would it not be best if we waited here for a while?"

"Oh no, we won't be in any danger!" Celestial cheerfully replied.

"We will if we forget to take the Book back," Nimbus realised. "Looks like we'll miss the show after all. How are we going to find it amongst this jumble?"

"May I?" Jam asked. Celestial frowned and shook her head.

"For Blessed's sake, Nimbus! You are an Angel-in-Training, are you not? You can find it easily. Just have a little faith in your talent for once! Come along, Jam. We need to collect Ram on the way. He's back over the rise, raving and floundering in the dust. Seems he's having disturbing visions of suffocation under monster buttocks. See you there, Nimbus. Don't be long!"

"But Celestial, Azazel's jewels sucked me dry! I have nothing left!"

"Wing rot!" she declared.

And with that, Celestial turned on her heel and flounced off without glancing back. Jam shrugged sheepishly, confirming he had no intention of arguing with his beloved. Nimbus found he was alone again. But this time it was different, he was glad Celestial was not with him. He suspected he could easily manipulate his newly manifesting abilities and elected not to.

For once, Celestial did not seem to recognise the full import of what Nimbus had just done. He had crushed a Senior Angel with relative ease, a skill very few of the Most High possessed, and a bad gift for one whose knowledge was so limited, whose maturity was so underdeveloped. He had also failed to share with Celestial what his glimpse of the Essential Tapestry had revealed. At some point in the future, Nimbus faced an ominous fork in his destiny.

One road lead to his existence as the ultimate Full-Fledged Seraphim -- the benevolent leader of his Order in an eternally balanced cosmos. The other generated a shudder of intense fear, as Nimbus saw himself the awesome and terrible overlord atop a mountain wreathed in flame, his mighty sword lancing a blackened, tumultuous sky, the entire universe prostrate and cringing at his feet. And he knew the outcome somehow hinged on the use of his destructive capacity.

He was loathe to take the chance and once he'd found the Book, made a personal oath never to use his powers again. He put out his hand and concentrated on the energy the Book produced, mentally sifting the piles of forgeries for its presence. Shortly, Nimbus had it hover within reach to pluck it from the air.

As it settled onto his palm, Nimbus thought he caught the passing of the merest shadow. A flicker in the Ethereal Glow so rapid, it was difficult to believe actual when no longer present. Nimbus knew the truth however; the darkness had been very real! Ominously, the Book started to grow to the proportions usually reserved for the wisest Elders. Stunned, he hurled it away.

Nimbus dithered with rising alarm, isolated on the outer edges of his world until he could procrastinate no longer. He had to return or they would come looking for him. He found the glove, put it on and picked up the Book. It cemented his decision. He could not ignore the pessimistic signs. Nimbus would pretend at all costs Azazel had taken his powers and they were gone for good! He would not succumb \-- he would never become a Dark Angel!

***

Chapter Sixteen

Four versus Two

The pyrotechnics of Zeus's displeasure did not eventuate. Instead, the Cherubs were treated to a long and incredibly dull meeting during which various Elders rambled, blaming, accusing and attempting to distance themselves from culpability. Aside from occasional heated denials, the mood was sombre. Nimbus had snuck in unseen as arrangements were underway and returned the Book of Lore to the Pedestal.

The Ethereal Realm had been put right in an iota and the gathering proceeded in the newly rectified Chamber of Greats. Long tables were arrayed in a square horseshoe, facing the topmost bench where the Most High from both realms assembled, elevated above the rest. The Chair of Forgetfulness was positioned in front; a clear souvenir of foul play. Not formally inducted into the Council, Nimbus, Celestial, Jam and Ram were perched on a pew against the wall behind the Most High. Ram fidgeted angrily, regularly shooting mutinous glares at Jam.

Hades currently held the floor, indignantly blustering he had no direct responsibility for Bloodar members. He stiffly paced the middle. "I fail to grasp how I could possibly be held accountable for the actions of one not under my command!"

Zeus, whose head rested on his hand, propped up by an elbow on the table, stirred. "It is clear you have failed to grasp a lot of things my crafty colleague," he responded mildly

"OH!" Hades retorted hotly. "That is the pear calling the pomegranate fruit! Where were you when the Chosen were in mortal peril? Basking willingly in the quality of my hospitality, that's where!"

Bacchus leapt up and slammed his fist down onto the marble, theatrically throwing Celestial and Nimbus a sympathetic look. "Damned luxuriating-leopard officials! Any opportunity for a free junket at the expense of a cherished underling!"

The gist was clear: Bacchus alone had heroically defended the Cherubs while everyone else swanned about sipping ambrosia and supping on venison. The impact of his dramatic outburst was somewhat lessened by the fact for most of proceedings, he'd snoozed next to Zeus in a pool of his own spit. The head of the Gods raised an eyebrow in Bacchus's direction, demonstrating his good-humoured objection to the insult. Mercury glowered sourly in the background, having not yet forgiven his erstwhile friend's Wand theft and the demolition of his humble abode.

Gabriel, who rarely spoke and was given undivided attention when he did, rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Gentlemen, please sit. Discord is the servant of adversity. Bacchus, had you not been carousing to the zenith and thus indisposed, you too would readily have deserted your charges."

Bacchus conceded with a disappointed nod and slouched sullenly onto his stool. Where was the praise he so rightly deserved? The perks of this job were becoming less alluring by the drop of sand in the hourglass.

Gabriel continued. "Recriminations are pointless. We must be like Janus the two-faced and look backward in order to see forward. Recent events have clouded the future and warrant scrutiny. Raphael, Michael and Uriel are at present one with the Essential Tapestry and ponder this new meaning. They will make full report soon, but first we must hear Bloodar Aimrod's account. I feel it will be most germane." Gabriel stared pointedly at the Dark Angel.

Nimbus shifted uncomfortably. He suspected that with the imminent arrival of more of his Divine Superiors he would unwittingly become the focus of the conversation.

Heads swivelled in Aimrod's direction. As punishment for the assault on Bacchus, he was seated with minor representatives at the back of the hall, his usual place at the forefront left vacant. His war spikes and fangs were long since retracted and he was again hidden by the shrouds of his volumous cassock.

Beside him drooped an unkempt Rhadamanthys, barely recovered from his humiliating ordeal at the talons of Hades' pet dragons. Aimrod slowly raised himself and made his way with belaboured dignity to the centre of the vast room. He removed his hood and addressed Gabriel, occasionally gazing in Nimbus and Jam's direction.

He spoke with barely repressed contempt. "Azazel acted on his own --"

"That's a lie!" Bacchus erupted, again jumping to his feet. A murmur of assent rippled through those from the Ethereal Realm.

"Please, Bacchus," Zeus's wife Hera interjected gently. "We know well the role you played and you will be justly rewarded, but due process must be observed. Each party deserves the right to speak uninterrupted in their own defence."

Bacchus gave Aimrod a murderous glance and sat. Aimrod benignly inspected his fingernails. "I am unconcerned by others' disbelief of my account, as it is the truth. I was unaware of Azazel's plot and can only speculate that his inferiors were bewitched into doing his bidding and deceiving me."

"Do you have any explanation as to how one of Azazel's low rank, broached the Pedestal and read the forbidden passage from the Book of Lore? He would have required great magic indeed to promote himself to the Essential Echelon. A level it must be said, you have achieved Supreme Bloodar Aimrod," declared Ra.

It was the duty of the Most High to select members accomplished enough to be welcomed into the Circle of Full Knowledge. They determined who was permitted to study or read from the Book's complete writings. Elders could only transfer this power with extreme discretion.

"I resent the insinuation, Ra. If you are making an accusation have out with it and it will be addressed. Of course, you would need to present hard evidence before sullying my name with idle speculation. We have only to visit the Seventh Circle to discern what happens to those who indulge in slanderous gossip!"

"Are you threatening me?" Ra stood, appalled.

"Merely elaborating the requirements for due process," Aimrod responded snidely.

"Clearly, a thorough investigation will be undertaken. Please be seated, Aimrod. Ra, you will have your apology when the moment is less heated, but not now. I believe, the Sacred arrive. Thank you for your tolerance," Gabriel appeased.

Ra nodded crossly and sat. Nimbus desperately wished that he could leave. His anxiety did back-flips in his stomach. The tension in the room ratcheted up, all expectantly turned towards the Chamber entrance. Even Bacchus was fully awake and alert.

Eventually, the Chamber doors swept open and three austere Angels paraded in, single file. Uriel took the lead. The only female in the group, she spent most of her time communing with the sun and stars and was rarely to be seen in Corporeal Form. She had a diaphanous air about her, as though permanently bathed in the brilliance of a super-nova, her glowing aura briefly lighting the visages of all she passed.

Michael and Raphael followed, sheathed in long simple gowns, their feet barely touching the floor, grave expressions on their striking faces. Gabriel came down to meet them, pressing his forehead to Uriel's in a wordless transfer of knowledge. The new arrivals took positions behind the Most High with the Cherubs. Uriel's golden eyes found Nimbus and she gave him a beatific smile, soothing his unease. He return a forlorn smile. Jam's mouth dropped in awe at the sight of her.

"We must adjourn the Council and confer in private," Gabriel announced with a perplexed frown. "You will be summoned on the outcome. May good fortune be your guardian."

This abrupt end was met with general outrage and shouts of dissent, but the Angels had already shed their physical manifestations and began departing for their haven, Sanctuarae Tranquilatum.

"Is that it? Is it over?" Celestial uttered in Nimbus's ear.

Nimbus shrugged, determining immediately it was not over for him. Gabriel, who was the last to disappear, beckoned he follow.

"Nimbus! Where are you going?" Celestial's question hung unanswered in the empty space where he had been.

Some time later, Nimbus was spread-eagled on his back on the rooftop of the very same apartment block of four days previous. He stared up at the evening sky with its smattering of feeble stars. They lost the battle against the saturation of the city's artificial light. He'd spent a listless afternoon observing the clumsy courtship of a couple of amorous teenagers. Nimbus gave-up his surveillance when they'd advanced to fondling beneath the romantic corona of the streetlamp. They did not need his help, it unfolded without the unleashing of a single arrow.

Nimbus was not exactly enjoying his segregation, but it was preferable to being on the Ethereal Realm, where Celestial hounded him with questions and Bacchus had promoted the Cherubs to the role of Events Coordinators. In reality, it meant their Guardian was free to cruise in his golden chariot like some super-celebrity, prominently displaying the Horn of the Host and stopping often to impart the thrilling tale of his heroics. He basked in lavish praise and graciously received numerous gifts, while the Cherubs dashed about planning the homecoming reception of the century. Nimbus did not even feel guilty he'd deserted Celestial to the task. Together she and Jam made an insufferably efficient pair.

Not to mention it was difficult to look at Celestial without being overcome by mirth, even in Nimbus's current depressed state. She insisted on constantly wearing the ridiculous hat Jam had shyly presented her. She blinked copiously to remove the frost from her eyelashes (her eyelids iced shut at one point, and she'd almost tripped into Jupiter's spittoon). If she stood in one spot too long, snow drifts developed.

Less amusing, the silver pixies had taken an instant dislike to Nimbus and hurled spells at him whenever he got within range. In a particularly humiliating episode, the little wretches had stripped him of his robe in the main avenue, as one of Bacchus's adoring audiences gathered, which unfortunately included the River Nymphs. Nimbus fronted the crowd wearing only Skylar's pendant.

"Oooh, nice dangler!" called a nymph coquettishly.

"Magic happens if you rub it!" grinned another.

"Never fear lad, I'm often caught with my toga down!" Bacchus chuckled unhelpfully. "No lasting harm done."

In a bid to rescue Nimbus from the taunts and more pressingly, save a blushing and mortified Celestial, Jam provided a tiny pair of black leather shorts. In hindsight, staying nude would have been smarter. The new attire provoked exuberant laughter and shouts of "Hail Spartan!" Since, the Nymphs made sly remarks about his dagger at every opportunity.

Nimbus sighed. Maybe if he showed them his real sword. The one Gabriel had nobly bestowed upon him as his Instrument of Influence that afternoon. But no, Nimbus did not even want to touch it and had hidden it in the deepest recesses of his meditation space.

The Seraphim were obviously disturbed he had progressed to such heights so suddenly. Nevertheless, it was an event that demanded certain protocol and they were bound by the traditions. So, he had received his Instrument of Influence with no fanfare and even less pride. He was terrified to discover it was the same ornate emerald-and-pearl-encrusted sword he held aloft in his most awful vision. It was finely wrought from Orichalcum, the supernatural Atlantean metal.

"There you are! Celestial sent me to see if you are alright." Jam appeared next to him, interrupting his thoughts.

"I was until you arrived," Nimbus said, regretting the words as soon as they'd escaped his mouth. Jam was eternally grateful Nimbus fought Azazel for him and tried unsuccessfully, on many occasions, to ease Nimbus's apparent unhappiness. Jam was extremely perceptive and could detect the pain of those around him. "Sorry! I didn't mean that."

Jam said nothing for the longest while. He simply lay himself down next to Nimbus and stared up into the night. Eventually, he spoke.

"Bacchus collapsed a moment ago and had to be sent to the healers. It seems Buttercup bit him on the thigh with her tail to counteract the witches' poison. Gabriel cured him of the Lamia, not the viper-venom, which started to work on his flesh. He will be okay," Jam added hastily. "Zeus temporarily banned him from receiving guests, proclaiming that too much attention is detrimental to anyone. Even Bacchus." Jam continued without prompting from Nimbus, who was so listless, he could have been a corpse.

"Buttercup, is unmanageable. Hades made petition for a replacement, claiming his foremost fortification has been enduringly spoiled and is now a useless booze-hound. The Underworld remains unguarded and has been inundated by pesky adventurers, determined to follow in the foolish footsteps of past pilgrims. Seems there is a new magical pear tree at the entrance that allows immunity on Perdition Road.

"Kharon is on strike. His ferry was overloaded by tourists to the point where it sank in the middle of the lake. The carnivorous fish had a feast before Hades could send his water-dragons to retrieve what was left of the survivors. His Warrior Warthogs are out on unanimous stress-leave, alleging combating Ghostly Polar Bears is not in their job description and Aiakos the Keeper of the Keys is missing.

"Several of the more entrepreneurial Imps are sporting thick gold chains and loud Hawaiian shirts in exchange for their work as guides for the Americans! Hades is complaining that Bacchus has ruined the Dolorous Realm and must be extradited to face punishment. He's demanding compensation or he reckons he will move his entire flock upstairs until things are put right."

"Hmph!" Nimbus grunted noncommittally. "That'd put a dent in Bacchus's big fat head!" They lapsed into silence.

"Nimbus, do you know how Fledgling Dark Angels come to be?" Jam inquired, after an extended pause.

Nimbus blinked in surprise. He had not given the matter much thought before, but had to admit it was an intriguing question. He shook his head.

"Whenever meanness, corruption and hate rule the human world, when selfishness, intolerance and greed reign, the Bloodar draw on that imbalance to bring us into being. It is a very complex and taxing ritual and cannot be performed more than limited times over a specified epoch, but things have been so bad on the Material Realm for so long, Ram and I unexpectedly achieved genesis together. He is my brother in time as we share the same moment of origin, just as you and Celestial do." Nimbus concentrated on Jam's words; they seemed of critical importance to him, but he could not guess why. "We are now four to your two."

Nimbus sat up. "There are two more of you?"

Jam also sat and nodded. "Ram and I are the younger of the quartet. At first the Bloodar, although overjoyed at their unbelievable success in such a short period, were unsure of our purpose. They assigned each of us to one of the other Fledglings to nurture our powers and for tuition in the ways of our Order. Meanwhile, they consulted the soothsayers, poured over the ancient texts and brooded on this deepest of mysteries. For eons we were left to our own devices, under the vigilant control of the older Fledglings. Until the Chosen came into being." Jam looked at Nimbus.

"Us? Me and Celestial?"

"Aimrod immediately understood the significance. My teacher and I were selected as your clandestine watchers. I have observed Celestial closely since her inception."

"It was not my hex that made you care for her, was it?"

He shook his head. "It is the job of the Dark Angels to recognise those of pure heart, who may prove incorruptible, for their downfall is our highest prize. Celestial's integrity is unmatched and she will never bend her will to the side of evil. I very much admire her unwavering strength. She will not diverge from the path of righteousness no matter the temptation or pain."

Nimbus was almost too afraid to ask. "What about me, Jam? What do you see when you look into my psyche?"

Jam gazed at him and with great sadness. "Only my teacher can tell you. She is your Mirror. But know this Nimbus and be warned! Her name is Rhapsody and she is the most potent enchantress of our realm. Her language mesmerises and none are immune.

"The Bloodar had her imprisoned as her powers outgrew even theirs. She is capricious and mischievous and very, very dangerous. You approach her at your peril! I perceive the burgeoning conflict in you, Nimbus. You are changed and I cannot foresee which direction you take. If it be towards her, failure and chaos will plague your wake."

"I am one of the Chosen! Our purpose is undeniable!" Nimbus shouted, to himself as much as to this impudent upstart. Who was Jam to tell him where he was headed? He wore leather pants for Adonis' sake! Surely he did not mean to be taken seriously?

Jam frowned. "Do you not remember? It is by your deeds that you are revealed, Nimbus. Not by your title!"

Nimbus fell into moody sulk. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I have seen your sword. I came to find you when you first returned from your time with the Divine. I saw you hide it. Rhapsody spoke of the sword with the green stones often. She claims the one who will save her bears it."

"Does Celestial know?" Nimbus murmured, his mind conflicted.

"It is not for me to tell of other's secrets."

Nimbus slumped over, bereft of optimism. "Thank you. If you'll be kind enough to leave me. Please, Jam."

"No. It serves nothing to stay here obsessing. Come with me to the celebrations. I believe Huitaca is still sober enough to perform excellent tricks with astral dust! Celestial has cooked your favourite vanilla and olive cakes and she is still wearing Skylar's bonnet, which is most amusing," he winked.

"I'm not really up for a party."

Jam regarded him. "You live in a Realm where laughter does not occur to schedule. Do not take that for granted, Nimbus."

"How do you schedule laughter?"

"A gong sounds on Sundays and Hades steps to the podium for a minute of joke-telling."

"Is he funny?"

"Not in the least."

Nimbus laughed. "Fine. You win."

"Do not fret. I sprinkled the hat with midget sprites, the sworn enemies of pixies. They are too busy waging war against each other to bother with you. Of course," Jam added sheepishly, "Celestial is rather disappointed I have seen fit to present her with such a violent hat, but she excused this lapse of judgement in light of my disadvantaged background and my improvements in personal hygiene."

***

Chapter Seventeen

Perdition Road is Paved with Good Intentions

Nimbus went. He was too shattered to argue or put up much resistance. The festivities carried on over many days. The whole of the Ethereal Realm was transformed into an exotic and fascinating bazaar; the streets filled with amazing acrobats, jugglers and fire eaters. There were stunning dancers on every corner and glorious music pervaded the atmosphere. The Heavenly Choir in full voice wove joy in the hearts of all who listened.

The Gods had a rare opportunity to display their lesser known powers and acts of magic and mystery beyond imagination were plentiful. The Cherubs' senses were accosted by strange and delightful sights, sounds and smells at each turn. It eventuated that Nimbus had a surprisingly excellent week, punctuated with vague bouts of anxiety, too easily ignored.

Gabriel and Michael materialised in his vicinity more often than usual, gazing at him with inscrutable expressions, only to disappear as Nimbus gathered the courage to approach. No one seemed available whenever he thought to inquire about the extra attention. Even Bacchus, who'd stretched his fame well-and-truly beyond reckoning, wasn't publicly obvious. Nimbus worked hard to repress brief visions of himself as Overlord of the Damned. And to pretend the sword he'd hidden held no fascination.

Occasionally, he found himself drifting towards the Ethereal Archives, as if by instinct. Rhapsody's name whispered in his mind and despite Jam's prophecy of doom, Nimbus felt an inexorable pull towards her. He had to know more! Merely researching his 'Mirror' wasn't dangerous, was it? But every time he got close, something interrupted him and hours passed before he recalled his quest. And Jam rarely left him unsupervised, as if deliberately steering him away from further knowledge of the matter.

Luckily, Jam was stellar company and the perfect distraction. He had a far more liberal attitude to the rules than Celestial, and was a perpetual practical joker with often hilarious results. Nimbus had fun despite his worries. Celestial consulted with Paraclete the Advocate on his behalf, and the poor fellow had a wearisome time cornering Nimbus to assess his mental condition.

Jam and Nimbus led him into one vexing situation after another. Jam shape-shifted into Paraclete and wolf-whistled a group of Valkyrie in front of their intimidating one-eyed boss, Odin. Nimbus and Jam nipped behind a marquee to watch, as the true Paraclete arrived a short while later and inquired after their whereabouts. He was met by a bristling wall of Scandinavian warriors, who failed to contain their hostility. The bewildered Advocate became embroiled in a one-sided scuffle with two massive Viking bodyguards, threatening customary vengeance with a yak's horn funnel and dwarves liquid silver.

Paraclete was eventually ejected in a ruffled state from the Norse sector, drenched in llama urine with an ugly new tattoo on his forehead and a hail of insults regarding his mother's courtship of a chimpanzee, and the remarkable family resemblance. It was the least he could get away with. Odin initially threatened to transform him into a large deposit of whale dung.

Still, the Gods' psychoanalyst was tenacious. He resumed his efforts after a good scrub, a calming brew and a wrapped bandage to cover the warning to all women in everlasting ink across his brow. His counselling efforts were thwarted for good however, when Jam whispered in a very inebriated Huitaca's ear that Paraclete had long withheld a passion for her.

Regardless of Paraclete's strenuous denials, Huitaca doggedly pursued him, wooing her hapless prey with a loud, screechy love song. Nimbus was amazed how fast she could run in an evening gown, while balancing an exotic cocktail with floating tropical fruit and a little umbrella jutting from the glass!

Paraclete's reputation as a lecherous womaniser was enduringly cemented when Huitaca ambushed him in the main forecourt in front of the entire Council of Greats and miserably beseeched that he 'not deny his true feelings'. Hera took Odin's message seriously and promptly suspended his Advocate's licence. She recommended he undergo therapy for pathological dishonesty. (Zeus's long suffering wife had some experience with devious men and lying was her highest dislike. Her husband fidgeted uncomfortably throughout the drama, shooting Paraclete sympathetic glances). Nimbus and Jam could not breathe for laughing.

"Nimbus, finally! You are almost impossible to track down. I've been searching for hours!" A frazzled Celestial confronted Nimbus, as he loitered by the Muses' bathing house. Her face was blue with cold, her Angel's robe soggy with melted snow. Blonde tendrils hung wetly in her eyes.

"That's because I've been deliberately avoiding you, Celestial. Sending Paraclete 'for a nice little chat' was a low act." Nimbus guiltily manoeuvred so she could not see what he had been looking at. "Git kept asking me about my mother! Doesn't everybody know we exist through Divine intervention?"

"Oh, put a feather in it! What did you do to the unfortunate man? I heard he's fled our Realm and taken vows of silence and celibacy at a remote monastery."

"Serves him right for meddling," Nimbus muttered.

"I was only trying to help --"

"Haven't you heard the one about Perdition Road being paved with good intentions?"

"-- and I know exactly what you are doing here, so stop pretending otherwise. Ogling those poor unsuspecting girls!"

Celestial's sympathy evaporated when flirtatious calls of 'Nimbus, where did you go?' and giggled 'Come back's' filtered over the hedge.

"Okay, okay! I give up. I swear I will not come to your aid again unless you beg me to." She removed the hat from her head and massaged her scalp. "What a relief!"

"I thought you loved that hat?"

"I do," she sighed. "It was such a lovely gesture and I did not want to hurt Jam's feelings by taking it off. But my brain is frozen numb and I think I've chipped a tooth with all the chattering. My toes are frost-bitten. I have to dig myself out of snow banks with tedious regularity. Plus, I've learned Pixies, while they may be cute, have the foulest tongues! One swore horribly at Neptune as I passed him by a while ago. He thought it was me!

"I almost got detention in the depths tending his Sea-Monster Hatchlings and you know I can't abide slime. Jam, bless him, claimed he'd said it. The Gods are lenient towards him given his origins, and thankfully, Neptune let us go with just a warning. I know how you must have felt scrubbing Jupiter's Spittoon after Jinx's now. I'm sorry I was not more sensitive. And I had no idea that Pixies were so brutal. Sprites have been leaping for their lives all day. It's quite disconcerting!"

The Spittoon incident seemed like such a long time ago, when life was more innocent. Nimbus changed the subject before depression got the better of him. "Speaking of Jam, where is your devoted shadow?"

"You would not believe it! He's at the barn, and aside from a morbid fear of camels, he's got the most amazing affinity for animals," she beamed. "Equinox let him ride her! Jam really is very special."

"Mmm, he's great," Nimbus mumbled without conviction. "You clearly haven't seen him crunching on pickled locusts. Licks his fingers and everything. Claims he's doing his bit to prevent Biblical pestilence."

She made a face and countered, "At least he grasps the concept of handkerchief use, at last! It sunk in after a particularly unpleasant episode with Athena's shawl. Apparently Jam's nose runs when he's nervous. It's a defensive mechanism where he comes from. He's rising above his base heritage so well." Celestial smiled and her tone evoked pride.

Nimbus experienced an odd sensation that was more than a simple lack of familiarity with his anatomy. He'd never spent so much time in his body before. His Other singing the praises of a Dark Angel was certainly novel enough to warrant notice, but Nimbus wasn't sure it was the source of his disquiet.

What did they really know about Jam? He'd infiltrated their ranks with alarming ease, and all who met him took him under-wing. He was irritatingly charismatic and his brilliant white hair suited him even better than his original black, the paleness against his ebony eyes and mocha skin a pleasing contrast.

His powers were plentiful and awe-inspiring, drawing comment whenever he used them, normally in some fat-headed act of chivalry. Nimbus violently caught himself, surprised by his bitterness. He severed the mean thoughts, the source of his churning gut. Was this envy? Holy Sacrament! Jomjael of the Fallen had been in their midst for less than a jot and already he and Celestial embraced the topmost Deadly Sins with wild abandon.

Oblivious, Celestial got her courage up and launched into the true reason she'd been looking for him. "Nimbus, are you alright? I'm worried about you. You haven't been the same since... Well, you know."

"I'm fine," Nimbus replied briskly. "Probably still contaminated by that horrid Crown. It will wear off in time," he lied.

"Excellent!" Celestial looked less than convinced. "Anyway, Bacchus claims he's going to start our instruction properly after the celebrations and we'll need to be in top shape," she rubbed her hands together enthusiastically. "We'll finally be on the path to full-fledged Seraphim!"

"Can't wait," said Nimbus flatly.

He had absolutely no idea how he was going to pull off Angel Training without exercising his powers, let alone avoiding the use of his Instrument of Influence once Bacchus found out about it, which was inevitable. Their Guardian possessed the uncanny knack of never seeming to pay attention and nonetheless knowing everything.

The Gods and the Angels indulgently minded their young charges. Towards the close of the party Zeus, Bacchus and Gabriel could be found on the Chamber steps overlooking the courtyard crammed with cavorting inhabitants.

"Bacchus, my old friend!" Zeus clapped him on the back. "You have passed your first test as a Guardian with distinction. It bodes favourably for the trials to come."

Bacchus was uncharacteristically clear-headed. "I am not concerned about how things will go for me. What of Nimbus? And Jam. His Other is now an avowed enemy. Ram has taken Blood Oath, he will not be subverted in his mission to annihilate the lad, as retribution for his desertion. And with Azazel's disappearance, we cannot obtain proof that Aimrod was behind the plot to steal the Book of Lore, and bring chaos on us all. There will be no justice. That vile deceiver has gotten away with it. Mark my words, the Bloodar are only warming up. They'll not let such a set-back thwart their intentions for too long."

Gabriel replied thoughtfully, "Much is obscured. We must be vigilant and attend the unfolding signs before Nimbus's course is set. His choices are entwined in our shared destinies and will drag us with him whence they lead. We cannot falter or I fear ruin will be our enduring prize."

Bacchus nodded with a sly smile. "It's lucky I work best under pressure and in tight corners, then."

"And to think, I voted for Merlin and the Magi in preference to you!" Zeus chuckled and patted Bacchus apologetically on the shoulder. "There is time yet, for a few nectars. Come! The deep fried peacock is on me."

###

Thank you for staying until the end! I hope you enjoyed the story. Other works can be found at the author's official website: http://www.unrealya.com or Smashwords.com Your opinion is valued and the author would love to hear what you thought about the book. Please leave a review in the comments section of the UnrealYA blog. Looking forward to hearing from you. Keep reading, SueEllen.

