The spread of Azrael's golden antlers alone drew the eye but then there were his magnificent wings, the black feathers now sprinkled with golden fairy dust. They rose behind him to sparkle in the light. And even though the crowd was a good twenty feet below us and twice as much away, I was certain they could see the way his green eyes glowed with the power of every element. Azrael's hands gripped the railing and the sound of his claws clicking against the iron was audible in the sudden silence. A breeze blew back his waist-length hair as if even the wind adored him.
The Faerie God shook his head as he started speaking in Italian.
I knew it was necessary for him to speak in their language and wasn't all that surprised. As the Angel of Death, Azrael knew most of the languages of Earth. That being said, I was annoyed that I couldn't understand what he was saying. Not that it mattered. It soon became apparent that Az was chastising them. A couple of humans shouted at him, but after he answered them, they went quiet. The crowd began to shuffle like naughty children, then went very still. After only a few minutes, the Faerie God ended his speech and glared at the humans. I expected more questions or shouting, but there were none; the crowd simply dispersed.
As they left, a military force replaced them and approached the Embassy.
A man at the head of the group addressed Azrael in Italian. Az responded in a monotone, then motioned toward the Embassy gates. I looked down at the gathering of faeries in the courtyard, a force half the size of the group in the square but ten times more powerful. The guns the soldiers carried wouldn't help them. In fact, they could be used against them with the right application of Fire. So, no, the Fey weren't intimidated, quite the opposite.
A group of faeries went to the gates and opened one panel. All five of them stuck their hands across the ward and waited. The humans just stared at them, but then their leader and four others stepped forward and took the faeries' hands. The humans were drawn across the ward and escorted inside the Embassy.
“Brave men,” I said as the Faerie God turned away from the railing. “What did you say to them?”
“To the Commander of the Swiss Guard or the mob?” Az asked, reassuring me that he was still in control despite the form he took.
“Both.” I grinned at him.
“I told the crowd that miracles are just magic, and they and their Pope were being deceived. That according to their religious texts, the god they worshiped was a loving one and wouldn't want to cause a war that he knew his people could never win.”
“Oh, that's good. Nice way to remind them that we're stronger without outright saying that we'll kick their butts if they don't simmer down.”
“They asked about the way God was showing his displeasure with the Fey, and I said again, that it wasn't their god but someone trying to manipulate them. Tricks that I hinted were orchestrated by other humans who hate faeries.”
“Oh! That's good too.”
“Thank you.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I told them there was no reason for their god to be jealous of the Fey, that we were not demanding worship from them or that they stop worshiping him. I said that every human is free to practice any religion they wish.”
“That must be what shut them up.”
“That and the arrival of the Swiss Guard.”
“Right. So what did you say to their leader?”
“He wanted to speak privately with me. I told him he could enter with four of his soldiers and promised him that no harm would come to them while they're in the Embassy.”
“I like that you added the 'while in the Embassy' part.”
“Well, I can't take responsibility for what happens to them after they leave.”
A knock came at the door, then a faerie opened it and ushered in the humans. The leader entered first, walking straight to Azrael while his men came in behind him and separated into two groups to flank the door. The faerie smirked at the soldiers, nodded at me, then closed the door.
After a quick exchange in Italian and a handshake, Azrael asked the leader, “Do you know English? My wife doesn't speak Italian.”
“Yes, I know English. I am from Switzerland originally and speak five languages.”
“The Swiss Guard is really Swiss?” I asked.
He just stared at me.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I don't know much about the Catholic Church or its . . . soldiers.”
He nodded crisply.
“Colonel Keusch, this is my wife, Vervain,” Az waved a hand toward me. “Carus, this is Colonel Christof Keusch, Commander of the Swiss Guard.”
“Nice to meet you, Colonel Keusch.” I extended my hand.
The Colonel took my hand and bowed over it. “A pleasure to meet you as well.”
