Elias

"We'll take the back entrance," Lucifer said once they were out on the street again.

Other than the two men guarding the theatre, Lucifer, Elias and Abigail were the only people around. It had to be late. Both Konstantin and the restaurant owner had acted as if it were well past dinner-time and in most buildings, lights were lit on the upper-levels. The streetlights, on the other hand, stood cold. Everything was bathed in warm golden light Elias had always associated with lazy, late afternoons.

"Lucifer, do you know what time it is here?" he asked.

The angel glanced to the sun, which still hung above the rooftops. "Twenty minutes to eleven."

"It feels like five thirty or something in Sydney," Abigail chuckled. "That's amazing."

For once of late, Elias was entirely in agreement with his sister. "Do they get any sun at all during winter?"

"None worth mentioning," Lucifer said. "Abigail, can I trust you to rely on your natural talents? Ramiel may offer up his blood to anyone who would have it and at times, even to those who wouldn't; I'm more precious about it."

"Sure?" Abigail frowned.

"Good. As for you, Elias, I have something special in mind."

Those words were enough to make Elias nervous. His stomach twisted uneasily as he watched Lucifer reach to his hip and draw a wide bronze sword from a scabbard that hadn't been there seconds ago. Lucifer offered the weapon to Elias.

"A relic from the old days, but still as sharp as ever," the angel said. "And if you yell "Michael is an arse", you'll have a flaming sword."

"What?"

"Should you ever meet him, you'll know what I mean."

"Surely a battle-cry like that is a bit... undignified? I'd have thought you'd go for something Enochian, or at least Latin."

Lucifer cocked his head. "You can say it in Latin if you want. Or in Lithuanian. The meaning matters, not the words themselves."

Sighing, Elias took the sword out of Lucifer's hands. Its shape was broader and stockier than the swords he had seen in museum exhibitions. The leather on the grip was worn and there were chips along the edge of the blade.

"How about a gun instead?" he said.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Lucifer asked. "I don't want to get shot in the back because you fumbled with the trigger."

Elias waited until Lucifer and Abigail were a few steps in front of him, then tried to swing the sword. "I don't know how to use a sword either."

"Aim the pointy end at whoever you want dead. It's fairly idiot-proof."

"You'd make a sterling educator."

When he received no reply, Elias wondered if he had overstepped the bounds, but then realised Lucifer's attention was no longer on him. They had rounded the block and now stood at the back side of the theatre building. It was quiet here. A single guard milled about atop an old loading dock. Lucifer strode right towards him.

The man pointed at the three of them and said something in Russian. He repeated the words more loudly. Seeing that Lucifer wasn't slowing his approach, he reached inside his jacket. Lucifer flicked his hand.

The man flew three metres into the air and slammed into the theatre wall. He landed in an awkward heap, blood pouring from the back of his head.

"He's not moving," Elias said. "We need —"

"We need to get inside and deal with his employers," Lucifer cut in.

"He's going to die out here."

Abigail grabbed Elias by the arm and pulled him towards the loading dock. "It sucks, I know, but we don't have time for this."

Lucifer pulled apart the heavy padlock on the doors of the loading dock and threw them open. The doors were iron, the din as they hit the loading dock's concrete platform physically hurt. Lucifer, however, didn't seem to care about the commotion, which had to have alerted anyone inside to their arrival. Or perhaps that was the point. Lucifer hadn't shared his plan for how this rescue would go.

In hindsight, not discussing this beforehand was a pretty big oversight.

Abigail followed Lucifer down the ramp that led from the loading dock to the bowels of the theatre and Elias trailed behind, constantly whipping his head back in case someone followed them. The interior was badly lit and somewhat dusty, but no worse than Elias' bedroom come exam-time. When Elias' hand brushed against the walls, he found it slimy and lumpy. Some kind of cheap oil paint layered over older coats of poorly done paintwork.

The corridor led to the remnants of a kitchen. The fridges and ovens were long gone, but the sinks and some of the shelving remained. Lucifer paused here for a moment and inhaled deeply, then drew another sword out of nothing.

"Keep moving," he ordered.

Biting her lip, Abigail pushed open the swinging doors out of the kitchen. "Must have been a nice cafe here once."

Despite the years of neglect, the difference to the service corridors they had just come out of remained stark. The long hall was lined with gilded columns and heavy, out-of-fashion curtains still hung over the tall windows. Three dusty chandeliers guarded the ceiling. Elias could see exactly how it would have looked — tables with crisp, white tablecloths; well-dressed guests, and waiters rushing about to get all the orders out before the evening's performance began.

"If I had the money, I'd renovate the place," Elias said.

"Shut it," Lucifer hissed, then more loudly said, "I hear you, you miserable spawn of the Void."

Elias froze. For a moment, he had forgotten where they were and what they were here to do. He glanced at his sister. Her face was ashen, but then Elias was sure he looked the same.

The kitchen door swung open. A short, broad-shouldered man with a curved sabre in one hand walked in. This can't be good. He vaguely registered that Abigail swore and hurried behind Lucifer, but Elias remained rooted in place.

"It can't be," the newcomer said. "Lucifer? This is turning out to be a proper reunion."

"Elias," Abigail said through gritted teeth.

Lucifer took a few steps towards the newcomer. "A reunion I intend to enjoy, even if I have to reduce this entire city to dust and cinders. You ought to run now, Shamkarish. I'll be sporting and give you a head-start."

"One would've thought you'd have learned some humility. Why should I be afraid of you? I saw Michael reduce you to a whimpering wreck right here. I was there when Iblis locked you up and melted down the keys."

Lucifer snarled and launched himself at Shamkarish. Their blades met with a resounding clang. Lucifer hissed in a grotesque-sounding language and raised his sword again, but this time Shamkarish was quicker to launch his attack.

"Elias!" Abigail shouted.

The panic in her voice snapped him into action. He sprinted towards the other end of the hall to the broad oak doors. Abigail got there before him. She flung the door open and without pausing to even look at where they were, continued running. Elias just tried to keep within arm's reach of his sister.

They crossed what looked like the theatre's entrance hall, then sprinted up the stairs. There Abigail came to a stop. She pressed her index finger to her lips. Perhaps two minutes passed and all Elias heard was Sariel's unceasing, looping voice.

"This is good," Abigail said quietly. "Shamkarish is the demon Ramiel and I saw back in Bolivia. Ramiel must be here then."

"Do you think Lucifer can hold him off?"

"Lucifer didn't seem worried."

"He doesn't seem the type to worry."

Abigail grinned, then pointed towards the doorway a few metres down. From where he stood Elias could see two more such doorways further along. All were dressed with a set of faded, velvet curtains — entrances to the theatre's balcony.

"Someone might see the curtains move," he said.

"True. Let's look around then."

They followed the curved line of the wall, careful to step quietly. Every once in a while they could hear what sounded like furniture being shoved against a wall. Lucifer would draw the demons' attention, but Shamkarish had seen Elias and Abigail. He could order an underling to follow them. Or, they could just be unfortunate enough to stumble across the wrong person and in this place, pretty much anyone would be the wrong person.

"Look at the next one," Elias said. "The curtain's missing on one side."

He tried to picture how the theatre hall would look from the inside. In the theatres he had been in, many of the balcony doors were difficult to see from the lower level and unless you were sitting right in the front rows of the balcony, much of the ground level seating remained obscured. The stage, however, was often visible from the moment you entered. And if you could see the stage, the person on the stage could see you.

"Stay close to the wall," he told Abigail as he crouched down.

On all fours, he crept towards the doorway and snuck a glance. There were four rows of seats, long disused and re-purposed as storage space. Large round tables had been stacked on top and a dented disco ball lay in the aisle. Elias lifted himself up a little. He still couldn't see anything past the balcony railing.

"Stay down until I tell you otherwise," he said.

Careful not to disturb the remaining curtain, they crawled through the doorway and down to the front row. Having reached the relative safety of the balcony's solid railing, Elias flexed his protesting wrists.

"There's someone down there," Abigail whispered. "Can you hear them?"

Without waiting for his answer, she made her way between the front row of seats and the balcony railing until she was almost above the edge of the stage. Here the railing had a gap along the side, so it was possible to look down without peering over the top of it. Abigail stretched out flat on the ground and slid forward until she could see while exposing as little of herself as possible.

Elias crawled over to her, but didn't dare to speak.

After a minute, Abigail shifted back behind the railing and motioned for Elias to trade places with her. It was a difficult thing to do without making a sound and the sword in his hand didn't help. Elias swiped his cheek along the disintegrating carpet in the process, burning off a layer of skin. Abigail got her foot stuck in the chair legs. When he finally pulled himself over the side of the railing, Elias' heart thumped so loudly he wondered if that alone would betray them.

He's here. Elias grinned as he recognised the chestnut curls of the angel propped against one of the poles erected on the stage. Even from this distance, Elias could see Ramiel was in a bad condition — bloody and with a great many feathers torn out.

A woman at the front of the stage was speaking to Ramiel in Enochian, but Ramiel seemed to be silent. Frustrated, she rubbed her eyebrow and turned just enough to allow Elias to get a better look at her face. He grit his teeth. Jala.

"He won't have a thing to say until the others get back," said a new voice, which sounded familiar, but Elias couldn't quite place it. "Might as well take a break and have a glass. This Shiraz is solid."

Jala turned away from Ramiel. "He will if we go about it right."

"I should've known you wouldn't sit back. What's wrong with enjoying the quiet for a change?"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" Jala scoffed.

She jumped off the stage and made her way over to the other speaker. Elias realised that a few more steps and Jala would pass out of sight, so he inched forward. The seats in the gallery had been removed and the floor had been levelled. He could now see a single square table and three chairs stood in the middle of the empty space. A man, the only one seated at the table, held out a wine glass for Jala.

Holy fucking hell. No way.