Fallen Angel

Chapter 18.1

Samael smirked at the sight of the Archangel being carried away by Morpheus's servants. It was about time that son of a bitch got what he deserved. Michael's true suffering had only just begun, though. He would make sure of that.
The Lord of Dreams cleared his throat, and Samael threw him a sideways glance. Though he'd had his doubts about being in league with him, Samael had to admit, Morpheus had played his part well. Michael had walked right into their little trap.

"I hadn't expected you to actually do this," remarked Morpheus. "You, who are supposed to be 'neutral'. I hope you realise you've dealt a heavy blow to the good side."

"There is no good or bad," replied Samael. "That's just how people perceive things. We are what we are, after all. Michael's always treated me as something... unnatural. Even before I was born."

"Does he know who you truly are?"

"No. And we want to keep it that way for now." Samael glared back at him.

The Lord of Dreams wisely recoiled and inclined his head. The Angel of Death scoffed in disgust. Morpheus truly was a coward. Now, if that powdered-up relic continued to play his part right, everything would fall into place. But he would still feel better if someone else kept an eye on Michael. Someone loyal to him, and him alone.

"What do you want me to do with the Lord Protector now that we have him?" Morpheus asked as they made their way back to the stairs of the palace.

"If it were up to me, I'd have you break every bone, spill every drop of blood, and pluck every feather. But unfortunately, that's not what he wants." Samael handed Morpheus a dark vial. "Inject Michael with this before you put him in the Dream Chamber."

"To what purpose?" Morpheus took the vial with a delicate hand. 

"It will simply add sweet and bitter truth to whatever fantasy his mind dreams up."

The maidservant who had guided Samael and Michael to Morpheus awaited the pair in the entrance hall. Her cheeks were wet from crying. A collar with pins was strapped around her neck. Its sharp points had already nicked her white skin, trickles of crimson blood staining the cloth on her body. She offered Samael a small box with a deep, wincing bow.

"This is the other thing you requested," said Morpheus.

"Very good." Samael nodded approvingly.

"What of the Horsemen?"

"Are you that keen to release them into the world?" asked Samael, flashing a grin.

"The mortals are already under their influence, even from here. It makes no difference to me."

"You're not worried about what Michael said, then?"

"A most unlikely scenario. And besides, the true power lies in nightmares, anyway. There will be an abundance of them when the Horsemen roam free. Even if there is some truth in what the Lord Protector said, it will still be a long time before the mortals are left empty shells. What of you, though? You'll be left without a job if the Pale Rider reaps what his comrades sow."

"Don't worry about me. I'll soon be in my rightful place."

"In that case... the best of luck to you."

The Angel of Death gave a curt nod and descended the palace's steps. At the bottom, he lingered.

"They will send someone for him."

"Do not worry," said Morpheus. "All may enter the Dream Realm, but none leaves without my permission."

"I can," Samael pointed out.