No Shadows Fall Read Free

The Son.
    Semjaza patted the wall with one hand as he descended the shallow stairs into the basement, using a thought to close the door that had admitted him. When he returned to his kingdom, he would restore Ur. Perhaps Azazel would accept the city as a gift and govern it in Semjaza’s name. Semjaza decided to ask Azazel about it as soon as he saw him.
    Walking quickly, Semjaza moved along the corridors, going into the rooms to find clothing, food, and water. The food had been protected by magics of the Grigori, and Semjaza was pleased to find everything as it had been so many centuries before. He ate a meal of dried fish and salted beef, olives and dates, and flat bread dipped in olive oil, and then he dressed in plain, undyed linen trousers and tunic and pulled on a black coat over the top.
    Footwear was different, Semjaza realized, as the sandals he was so familiar with would be ineffective in the world above. He cast an incantation, taking the footwear from the dead human above, and examined the socks in wonder before shrugging and pulling them onto his feet. The boots were even more curious than the socks and made of tough leather that seemed to be reinforced with steel in the toes. Amused, Semjaza chuckled as he pulled on the boots and laced them up.
    Once he had dressed and eaten his fill, Semjaza took a small jug of iced water, stored and protected by the magics of his old friend Gadreel. Gadreel had been gifted with far-seeing and Semjaza silently applauded his old friend for taking the precautions he had in order to protect the basement of Ur and its contents.
    Semjaza moved through the rooms, seeking out one room in particular, the treasury. Finding it, he smiled to himself as he gathered up the long gold chain of his office and the gold ring set with garnets and diamonds that was the seal of his royal house. After sliding the ring onto his left ring finger and slipping the chain over his head, Semjaza then picked up a piece of braided leather thong and wove it between his fingers.
    The man above had had short hair, and Semjaza considered that. While he was loath to cut off his long, white-blond tresses, perhaps it would be prudent to tie it back or braid it. He cast another spell, and the magic braided his hair in an elaborate and elegant long braid with the leather thong.
    That done, Semjaza gazed at his reflection in a mirror made of polished brass. Yes, he looked just as handsome as he had before his imprisonment. Ishtahar could not resist him, for he was her true love and the father of her children. Once she saw him and how handsome and powerful he was, his talent for magic and his angelic power undimmed by time and imprisonment, she would rush to him and beg forgiveness for straying.
    Of course, he would forgive her. He smirked as he gazed at his reflection. After he had punished her, naturally; for such behavior as hers—allowing Remiel to lay his hands upon her, and hiding her children—could not go without some kind of punishment, but it would be swift, and he would be merciful. It would show his followers what a benevolent ruler he was. It would also show the humans, the tiny children that had evolved from clay, just how magnificent he was.
    The monsters would flock to his banner too. Semjaza stretched languidly, smoothing his hands over his hair. The vampires were eager for power, and he would give them a few human witches and wizards to turn into blood drinkers. That would bind the vampire clans to him. The shapeshifters wanted lands of their own, and so he would give them that, governed, of course, by one of his own. It would certainly be preferable to the meager and secretive existence they had now.
    Pleased, Semjaza sent out his power, reaching for the familiar signature of his own choir. It was not a random Grigori he was seeking, however; it was Azazel, his second in command, his best friend, his long-lost comrade. He missed Azazel terribly, missed his wise counsel, his witty jokes, his interest