The World of Nicholas Darby: Raver Messiah

A telling of the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah, from the perspective of the angels.

I apologise for the names. Lot's supposed to be Chaldean, and Chaldean names are a pain in my ass to find, but he spent enough time in the Jordan River valley that I can mangle some names for his family. And then I had the bloody stupid idea the angels should be posing as Chaldean merchants… I give up. Also, I like Lot's daughters as self-determined hellraisers, able to make their own decisions and enforce their intent. I think canon supports that.

And Gabriel loathing its shell is always hilarious — so, yes, this is really substantially before the fall of Jerusalem. (~2018 BC, maybe?)

And if you've got any problems with my geology or geography, keep in mind that historical fiction is still fiction. (And I'm using a trope that's been argued by biblical scholars, which doesn't make it true, but does make it sufficiently popular to base a fictional work upon.)

In about 701 BC, an Assyrian army led by Sennacherib sacked forty-odd cities in Judah and laid siege to Jerusalem. Assyrian records report the successful sack of every city besieged, except Jerusalem. Although they also do not report defeat there, those records are kingly propaganda, so all bets are off. The story goes that Hezekiah, King of Judah, prayed in the Temple of Jerusalem, for deliverance, and as the first king in two and a half centuries to do so, his prayer was rewarded, and 185,000 Assyrian soldiers died outside the walls. This is variously attributed to Michael, Gabriel, or the onset of one of the usual siege camp diseases. I decided to go for all three. (I never thought I'd be writing Michael, but I suppose it had to happen, eventually…)

The year is 587 BC, first year of the reign of Jeconiah of Judah, and the Temple of Jerusalem has burned to the ground, the city is in flames, and the Babylonians are rejoicing in having conquered Judah, at last. But, the angel commanded to destroy Jerusalem, to let Babylon take the kingdom, had second thoughts, and now is paying the price of partial disobedience.

Lucifer takes a new name and comes to visit one of his younger siblings.

"The truth is so rarely attractive. It needs a compelling salesman to heighten its appeal." Hananiah looked even more catlike in the company of the two sand cats rubbing fur onto his robes.

"Do you accuse me of artifice?" A golden swirl danced across the stranger's blue eyes.

"That beard makes the accusation for me." Hananiah's serene smile remained undisturbed.

A ripple of sound ran through the crowd — mutters and jeers.

Someone introduced me to the Ghurabiyya Shia, a now-extinct Islamic sect from the Middle Ages, who believed that Gabriel delivered the prophecies to Mohammed by mistake, when they were actually intended for his cousin, Ali. Obviously, given that I tend to write Gabriel as … less than entirely pleased with innumerable of the Holy Father's decisions, I had to run with that idea. The 'your brother' referenced here is the Adversary, who Lucifer keeps getting mistaken for, despite never having even met the guy. (Speaking of looking like your uncle…)

Lucian (Lucifer) and Belphegor have a really weird, really long relationship. Lucian's just happy to have someone to talk to who's been there for some of the things he remembers. If you're wondering why Belphegor is female, here, it's because he's been summoned, and summoning Belphegor results in a beautiful young woman.

The Holy Father is remarkably unpleasant, here, in completely canonical fashion. Gabi's got some issues with how the Holy Father goes about things, and tries to smooth things over, wherever possible, with the illusion of choice. But, in the end, Octavia has still been chosen.

A Magelight crossover. (Where this series began…)

I don't even know. I got into the crackiest discussion with Frostburn, earlier, and this just … happened. It's a somewhat different take on a long-lost fifteen-page fic I wrote fifteen years ago. There'll probably be a part two, in a while, when I figure out how to get there from here.

Nico and Luci decide to catch up with their other favourite angel, who is known for improving the party atmosphere, in … unexpected ways.

Lucian really is the typical asshole older brother. One might even say that older brothers are all in some way based on Lucian, since he's older than everything but the Greater Lords. The prototypical older brother.

So, I'm … thing. And I asked for some prompts on Tumblr. And golly-gosh-damn thanks, Mayhem. *mutters* I get "misused symbology". Somehow this lead me straight into Saint Lucy, and … shit happened. I'm not sorry. This is also totally unedited.

Hanael gets a new shell and returns to hassle Lucifer, some more. The Magdalenes are amused, if confused.

Kamaria sat on the arm of Nico's chair. "Oh, hi, mom. Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing much, just listening to my boss tell the devil to get him a beer." She rolled her eyes. "And my family wonder why I don't talk about my work."

Lucian gets his ass handed to him (but you should see the other guy). Gabriel is left to clean up the mess. Yes, I will eventually write what actually happened between Michael and Lucian, but that doesn't really go here. Lucian's trying not to get too specific.

"Ladies?" Nico called in the direction of the hall. "Gabi's got pastry and Luci's got no pants. You want to come in here and protect the Father?"

Introducing Serakel, one of the angels of fruit and fruit trees. And the process of hurrying the creation of a shell. And at least some of the truth about Lucian's sister.

Nico needs a holiday. Instead, he gets a miracle. Not quite as good, but at least he won't pass out in public.

"They're not sure why, but Gabriel just left this for you." Yin held out what appeared to be a small, greenish-yellow sweet, wrapped in a twist of wax paper. "The message was that you should thank Lucian, later."

Halfway into his trousers, Nico stopped and grabbed the tiny packet. "Send Lucian a box of struffoli and a case of that Syrian wine he likes. Send Gabi flowers. Draw a dick on the card."

"A dick, boss?"

"It's Gabi. Just trust me."

No great leader, in the modern world, goes without a few assassination attempts. Few, however, have irate archangels looking after them.

All Nico wanted was a day off. A day he didn't have to think of anyone but himself. A day he could just stay in bed and eat pizza and look at cat pictures on the internet. Which would have been great, but an unexpected visitor disrupted his lazy afternoon.

"Is that orange juice?"

"Mango. Lucian's fault." He paused. "Please don't tell dad about Lucian. You know they have issues."

"I have issues with Lucian. I don't want my son partying with the devil." Octavia looked sternly at her son. "Mango's fine."

Love isn't always all it's cracked up to be. Also, why it's important to have friends who will come disrupt your sulking with their abject dickery in the wake of a truly necessary breakup.

Nico's doing a gig at a political event that suddenly spawns a neverending spring of booze, courtesy of the Mexica gods of drunken shenanigans. If you read a lot of my stuff, you'll recognise a couple of faces in the crowd, pretty early on. And, yes, Lucian has an accent that occasionally gets in his way.

"Sorcerer, my ass." Ometochtli jabbed a finger at Lucian. "Look, what are you, the god of ass-blisters? It's all right. There's pulque enough for that. Pulque is my business. God of drunkenness, rabbits, and doing things you'll regret when you wake up with a hangover, half a dozen coyotes, three guys in lipstick, and a girl who looks like your grandma. You could be the Syrian god of falling in dungheaps, and I'd let it go, but don't think you can keep telling me you're not one of us."