“No. I think that Lucifer presented an unappealing option that he knows you’ll refuse out of hand so that he can then send you the person that he really wants here.”
I nodded. It made sense. It was exactly the way Lucifer operated.
“And his leniency toward Nathaniel is no doubt dependent on Nathaniel’s ability to get me to cooperate,” I said.
“Which is why Nathaniel is still on the porch,” Beezle said. “He said he’ll sleep there if he has to.”
I thought about calling the cops to remove him, but Nathaniel would just return over and over again until he got what he wanted. I didn’t believe that he cared about me one whit. I knew for sure that he cared about keeping all his body parts in their proper places, and that meant that he would go to any lengths to please Lucifer.
Fine. He could stay on the porch if he wanted. I hoped he froze to death.
“Maybe you should think about accepting Nathaniel,” Beezle said thoughtfully.
I stared at him. “That’s the second insane thing you’ve told me to do tonight. First I’m to make a pact with Lucifer; now I’m supposed to accept Nathaniel?”
“Think about it,” Beezle said urgently. “You’d have leverage with Nathaniel. You could use him to find out what Lucifer is up to. Plus, you’d definitely throw the Morningstar for a loop if you accept a bodyguard he was certain you’d reject.”
“Nathaniel is a killer,” I said heatedly.
“So are you.”
“I didn’t kill innocents. And I don’t try to justify anything I did saying I was under orders from someone else.”
“Nathaniel can’t help that,” Beezle said, shaking his head. “It’s something you never understood about Gabriel either. You’ve never submitted to anyone’s authority in your life—not your mother, not me, not your Agency supervisors, not your teachers at school. You were born contrary.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m an independent thinker.”
“Or, depending on one’s perspective, you’re a stubborn mule, but that’s not the point. The point is that you’ve never understood why angels don’t contradict their master, why they follow orders that would seem unreasonable to you. It’s because they’ve had respect for the hierarchy drilled into them from birth. They’ve been taught to be unquestioning, to do what they’re told even if it’s something a human would consider morally wrong.”
“So they’ve been brainwashed?” I said skeptically.
Beezle sighed. “No. Think of them as soldiers in an army. A soldier might doubt the validity of a commander’s order, but that soldier would still do as his commander said. Because that’s the way he’s made. That’s the way he’s been taught to behave, because an army is not made up of one person. Its strength comes from the sum of its parts.”
“So all the angels are taught to do as they’re told because it’s so important for each court to preserve its base of power.”
“Yes,” Beezle replied. “It’s also why rebellion is never initiated from the bottom. Most of the lower hierarchy could never conceive of going against Lucifer. But Azazel and Focalor are both Grigori. They have their own courts. They are used to answering only to Lucifer, and in recent years it seems he has given them more leeway.”
“But why?” I asked. “You told me once that Lucifer would do anything to maintain his base of power. And Gabriel once said that he thought Lucifer had enough power to have dominion over all things.”
“I’m pretty sure he does,” Beezle replied.
“Then why loosen his grip?” I wondered.
“To see what would happen,” Beezle said. “To see who is truly loyal to him.”
I scowled. I really disliked the idea that Lucifer would allow a rebellion to fester just so he could watch the game play out. I was also disturbed by the idea that Nathaniel might not be entirely at fault for his part in the memory-selling enterprise. He wasn’t completely blameless, not by a long shot, but it seemed it would have been difficult for Nathaniel to refuse Azazel.
He had tried to kill me in Azazel’s court. But he had also helped us save Wade’s cubs.
I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do about Nathaniel right now. It seemed too complicated to sort out what was right and what was wrong, and that worried me. Those shades of gray were Lucifer’s provenance.
Samiel came into the dining room carrying a tray full of food. He set three bowls on the table.
“Yum, chili!” Beezle said, diving toward his portion.
“Use a spoon,” I said before he went headfirst into the bowl. “You’re not a pig at the trough.”
Beezle muttered crossly to himself, but he perched on the edge of the bowl with a spoon held in his fist. He scooped chili into his beak with the rapidity and care of a toddler just beginning to use utensils. Food dribbled from his mouth to his stomach.
Don’t look at him, Samiel signed. You’ll lose your appetite.
I try not to look at him generally, I replied.
Samiel went back into the kitchen and returned with a plate of corn bread and three glasses of milk. He indicated I should sit down across from him, looking inordinately pleased with himself.
“This looks great,” I said.
I wondered where he had found all the ingredients in my very bare kitchen. I was pretty certain I hadn’t bought all of this stuff with Beezle, so I asked Samiel.