A tap on his thigh had him sitting back upright as Michael murmured, “We need to move.”
“What is it?”
“I think we’ve been?—”
He was cut off abruptly as a hand landed on his shoulder and yanked him to his feet. Uriel scrambled to bring himself upright, only for two hands to clamp down on his own arms from behind.
“Judas?” Uriel cried out in surprise when he recognized the man who held a blade to Michael’s throat.
“Hello Uriel. Sorry to meet again under these circumstances, but when I intercepted your message for Mags, well.” The Fallen Angel smiled tautly. “You understand why I couldn’t let her come and be dragged off to a cell.”
“We only asked her to come speak with us,” Uriel protested, straining against the grip of whoever held his arms.
“Right, right, because Jehovah would be especially cool with you letting her return to Hell afterwards?”
There was a tense moment of silence, and then Uriel sighed.
“Can we at least speak without being restrained?”
Judas hesitated, then lowered his blade from Michael’s neck. He kept it at the ready as he moved a half step apart from the angel, frowning. “Alright. For old time’s sake, I’ll trust you won’t try anything stupid.”
The hold on his arms disappeared, and Uriel blinked in disbelief when he saw that the one who had been restraining him was a monkey skeleton with flaming hair and bat wings. He wore a three-piece suit of burgundy velvet and a surprisingly clear expression of distaste despite his lack of skin and tissue.
“Sorry…whatareyou?”
“Rude,” the demon huffed in a strangely accented voice. “I’m a Dirge, if you must know.”
“Shapeshifting skeletal demons,” Judas clarified. “Great for recon missions like this one, especially because they have natural glamours. Mortals see him with skin and particularly posh hair, like a little businessman.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m some charming pet,” the Dirge scowled, the flames of his hair dancing higher with annoyance.
“Do you have a name?” Uriel asked.
“What kind of question—ofcourseI do! My name is Zaj.”
“What kind of name isZaj?” Uriel furrowed his brow.
“The kind that’s short for Zajezjahval,” the response was blunt, thrown out with the air of someone tired of repeatedly answering the same question.
Uriel recoiled. “Did your mother not love you?”
“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.” Zaj turned away with haughty sniff.
“Zaj is one of the highest ranked demons in Hell,” Judas deadpanned, and Uriel winced.
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Can we call a truce and resume our discussion?” Michael cut in, exasperation clear in his strained tone.
“Oh, sure.” Judas smiled. “Here’s the discussion. I say ‘go back to Heaven’ and you say ‘okay’ and that’s it.”
“You know we cannot do that.” Michael frowned.
“Well, you alsocannottake Mags to Jehovah.”
“She’s given a valuable artifact to Lucifer,” Uriel argued. “Shestoleit.”
“Technically, Jehovah never had sole dominion over the book,” Judas shrugged. “It’s meant to be public property for the Divine.”
