"We must tell him," Vikiel whispered harshly. The two angels stood opposite each other in the small bedroom of Lot's house that was normally occupied by his daughters. Tonight the girls would sleep on the floor in the kitchen so that their guests could sleep in beds.

Shemhazai had been about to pop out to Olympus, but Vikiel felt that this conversation could not wait. "What shall we tell him," Shemhazai asked. "Shall we tell him we have brought an ancient war between angels to his home? Shall we tell him we have put the lives of him, his family, and perhaps all his countrymen in danger?"

Vikiel raised a hand, about to make a point, when he was interrupted by an unusually loud voice outside the house, yelling a single word. "Lot!"

Shemhazai and Vikiel rushed to the front room where Lot, his wife, and daughters stood by the door. The late spring nights could still carry a chill, and Lot was putting on a coat to venture outside. "What would Gali want with you at this hour," Lot's wife asked.

"Perhaps there is a great mess that needs a crew to deal with it immediately," Lot said. The look his wife gave him in return showed she did not believe that. Lot placed a hand gently on her cheek and spoke softly. "I must answer his call. He is the paymaster."

"His tone scares me," she said, looking pleadingly into Lot's eyes. "And why does he have those men with him? They are not the ones from your crew."

"I will be safe," Lot reassured her.

Lot took his hand from his wife's face, opened the door, and stepped through it. Gali stood by the well in the plaza. Flanking him were six men Lot had never seen before, but he had seen their type. They were ruffians who frequented the pleasure palaces and the inns where strong drink was served. They were the types who could be hired to protect a caravan or to rob it. They weren't picky so long as the money was right. Four of them carried torches, providing a flickering illumination to the silent plaza. No one stirred in any of the other houses. The only sound was the braying of an approaching donkey, pulling a donkey cart.

"Lot!" Gali seemed a tad drunk as he swaggered forward and raised his arm, pointing a finger at him. "We have come for your houseguests. Hand them over to us and there will be no trouble."

Lot crossed his arms before his chest. "What do you want with them?"

"We're going to have a little fun with them," one of the ruffians shouted, following it with a laugh. Lot cringed at the thought of what the ruffians considered "fun."

Gali swung an arm back toward the man who had shouted, and despite being a good ten paces away, the man reeled as if Gali had struck him. "We mean them no harm," Gali called. "I recognized the scholar Samyaza among your group and my master Shemhazai would like to speak with him."

Lot thought briefly and then called back to Gali. "No."

"What? You would dare refuse an invitation from my master?"

"If it was an invitation, you would have sent a servant to knock on my door and extend it politely. Despite my current circumstances, I come from a good family and know how things are to be properly done. Bringing a band of ruffians to a man's house and demanding he surrender his guests is not an invitation. It is a kidnapping and I will not stand for it."

Gali shook his head sadly. "If my men have to enter your house by force, Lot. I will see to it that they rape your virgin daughters while you are forced to watch."

"I would rather see my daughters raped by your men," Lot said, glaring at Gali, "than defile the home they live in with so base a betrayal of those I have granted my hospitality and protection."

"What if they wish to come with us? Would you hold them prisoner in your home in the name of hospitality? We both know they have stood by the door, listening to us shout. Go inside and ask them for their decision. I will wait... for a brief while."

Lot paused a moment, then reached back and knocked on the door. It opened and he backed through it, never taking his eyes off Gali until the door closed in front of him. "You will not go," he said, still looking at the door.

"Lot," Vikiel said soothingly, "there is something you should know."

"Vikiel," Shemhazai shouted.

"Bless it, Shemhazai! The only way to shut my mouth is to bind me. You may be stronger than me, but not that strong."

Lot turned and looked at Shemhazai and then at Vikiel. "Shemhazai? But you've always called him Samyaza. Shemhazai leads the League of Merchants."

Vikiel waved his hands before Lot's face. "None of that is important. What is important is that we are angels of the Lord God. This city is wicked and has become offensive in His sight. More angels are on their way to help cleanse it of its evil. The Shemhazai you know is really a demon of the desert named Azazel who has taken on mortal guise to corrupt this city. His man Gali is a demon too. He demands us because he seeks to stop us from reporting back to our fellow angels that we have found him."

Shemhazai pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as Lot's eyes went wide with panic. "What are we going to do," Lot cried.

"Go to Olympus," Shemhazai instructed Vikiel. "Alert them, then bring back Adrizal with you as fast as you can. Fly!"

Vikiel closed his eyes and disappeared. Lot and his family all turned to stare expectantly at Shemhazai. "Now we wait," he said. "With luck, Vikiel will return before Gadreel out there loses his patience."

As if on cue, Gadreel, a.k.a. Gali, shouted from the courtyard. "My master will not wait all night, brothers. I will count the number of years since we last met, and if you have not come out, I will come in. One... Two... Three..."

Lot looked frantically at Shemhazai. "How many years has it been?"

Shemhazai thought a moment. "We have a while yet. Vikiel should return before he is done."

Lot's family slowly relaxed as the years ticked on. "Forty... forty-one... forty-two..." As Gadreel crossed one-hundred, they began to look quizzically at each other and at Shemhazai.

"We're angels," he said with a shrug. Gadreel kept counting.

Somewhere around two-hundred and thirteen, Vikiel reappeared in the room accompanied by a slight, bookish angel. Shemhazai clapped his hands. "I am going to cast a glamour on Gadreel and his men. It will make them blind to your presence. When I go out to talk to him, you will come out behind me and Adrizal will lead you out of the city." Shemhazai nodded to Adrizal who nodded in turn to Lot and his family.

"Whatever you hear, whatever you see, do not turn back. Things are about to get very dangerous in a very short time. Follow Adrizal as quickly as you can and stay focused on the road ahead of you. Sodom is no longer your home."

Lot and his family numbly nodded their acceptance, Shemhazai opened the door and stepped out far enough in front of it to clear room for Adrizal to lead Lot's family out behind him. When they were clear, Vikiel stepped out and closed the door, going to stand beside Shemhazai. Lot expected Gadreel, a.k.a. Gali, to spot his family at once and send one of his ruffians toward them, but Gadreel and his men only had eyes for Shemhazai.

Lot, his wife, and his daughters were led out of the plaza, but before they would let Adrizal lead them out of the city, Lot's daughters wanted to go collect their fiancees and Lot's wife wanted to go collect her parents, her two sisters and their husbands. "We cannot do this," Adrizal said.

The women were adamant. "You will not leave without your sisters," he asked, addressing Lot's wife. She nodded. "And what about their husbands?"

"We must save them too."

"And their husbands' parents? Their husbands' brothers and sisters?"

"Yes, of course."

"And their husbands' brothers and sisters want to bring their spouses, and their spouses have families they want to bring, which ties them to more families that must be brought, and by the time we alert those relatives, everyone is dead." Adrizal shook his head and offered his hand to Lot's wife. "Come with me if you want to live."

Lot's wife shook her head and ran off in the direction of her parents' house. Lot started after her, but Adrizal stopped him. "You have to look after your daughters. Once I have you out of the city, I will come back for her."

Lot looked after his wife, watching her turn a corner and disappear. Each daughter grabbed a hand and pulled, coaxing him to follow Adrizal. Reluctantly he let them lead him through the city gates and onto the road to Zoar.

---

"How long has it been, Gadreel? Would you like to keep counting?" Shemhazai waved his hand and the six toughs around Gadreel were knocked unconscious, slumping to the ground. "You always were overly theatrical. Are you going to take us to see Azazel?"

Gadreel surveyed the collection of unconscious toughs and shrugged. "This way," he said, bowing and gesturing toward the exit to the courtyard. Adrizal and Lot's family had just left and Shemhazai did not want to risk encountering them. He had no idea how long the glamour would remain effective on Gadreel.

"Vikiel, go inside and get our things."

Gadreel looked annoyed. "You should come now. Azazel awaits your arrival."

Shemhazai made a show of brushing dirt off his sleeves. "Azazel has waited over 300 years. He can wait a few breaths longer. Vikiel..."

Vikiel scrambled back inside the house. The Angels had not unpacked their bags, which had been carried more for show than utility, but he waited, counting pieces of furniture and singing himself a song before he picked them up and walked back out, casually, taking his time as he sauntered up to Shemhazai and handed him his bag.

"Shall we go now," Gadreel asked, tilting his head and sounding exasperated.

"Yes, I think we shall. Lead the way Gadreel."

Gadreel gave them a vision of Azazel's house, then disappeared. The two angels envisioned themselves in the house, blessed the vision, and found themselves there.

The room they arrived in was a large, lavish sitting room, decked out in silk pillows with gold embroidery. The varied hues of the pillows did more than display a color scheme. They displayed their owner's wealth, showing that he could afford the rare spices to create the expensive dyes from which these colors came. "Azazel will join us shortly," Gadreel said and then walked out of the room.

Shemhazai was trying to stall for time as his supporters rallied. Azazel's attack on Atlantis, his threats against the families of opposing angels, and the extensive flood-related death among humans had resulted in the eradication of the "peace through negotiation" camp. It had become obvious to all the Nephilim that they must pick a side, and the majority picked Shemhazai's. Many of the Nephilim had lost children to the petty, jealous, superstitious nature of humans. But after seeing what becoming bitter over it had done to Azazel and what it led him to, they had resolved to forgive and to try to help humans be better rather than eradicate them.

Still, while over a hundred and fifty angels expressed their support, he could only rely on forty to help him conquer and bind Azazel. And of the more than forty angels who had thrown in with Azazel, Shemhazai could not predict how many would join Azazel in battle.

His question was answered when Azazel entered the room through the grand doorway, flanked by twenty-six angels, including Gadreel. The angels filled and blocked the doorway as Azazel went to sit on some pillows opposite Shemhazai and Vikiel.

Blocking the doorway was, of course, no way to prevent an angel from leaving the room, but the sheer physical presence of the angels was meant to create an intimidating effect. Instead, Vikiel got up and walked over to them, wrapping his arms around one in a joyous embrace. "Karazal, it has been forever since I saw you. I have missed you my old friend."

The angel named Karazal stiffened uncomfortably, looking pleadingly at Gadreel as he suffered through the hug. Vikiel released the hug, put his hands on Karazal's shoulders, and kissed him on both cheeks. Then he stepped back, a contented smile beaming from his face. "It has been too long. Too long. After this we must catch up." Vikiel looked across the assembled group and his smile grew brighter. "Akimal," he shouted as he opened his arms and walked toward another angel who was resisting an urge to cringe.

"Enough," Azazel shouted, his voice like a thunderclap echoing through the room. He wore the same red and black silks with gold embroidery that he had worn the night Shemhazai came to see him outside Baghdad. He manifested the full beard that was in fashion among the men of the Jordan river valley, and his long hair was weighted with oils, turning its angelic curls into a low-frequency wave. In his eyes, pain and hatred burned.

Vikiel put his arms down and went back to sit next to Shemhazai, walking like a chastized schoolchild. "So," Azazel said, peering intently at Shemhazai, "just the two of you come to beard the lion in his den? Or should we be expecting reinforcements?"

"You've known the answer to that for centuries," Shemhazai said casually, laying back on the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes a moment and a bunch of grapes materialized in his hand. He bit one off the bunch and chewed.

"What is to stop us," Azazel said, looking at Shemhazai who refused to sit up and meet his eyes. "What is to stop us..." He looked at Vikiel who smiled at him and winked knowingly. "What is..." he seethed with impotent rage. Azazel stood from his pillows, walked over to Shemhazai, walked up in the air as if climbing an invisible staircase, and lay down on the air directly above Shemhazai, facing down, meeting Shemhazai's eyes again. "What is to stop us from binding you two here and now for a thousand years," he said, pronouncing each word clearly and carefully to prevent his anger from forcing him to rush through his threat. "We outnumber you more than ten to... urrrk."

While Azazel had been speaking, Shemhazai had plucked a grape and tossed it into Azazel's mouth. As Azazel gagged on it, Shemhazai sat up, then stood up, and paced over to take the seat Azazel had vacated, leaving Azazel staring down at an empty pillow. Azazel lowered himself to the pillows and sat up to find Vikiel staring at him. Vikiel smiled and raised his arms. "Hug?"

Azazel slapped away Vikiel's closest hand and stood, walking over to the group of angels in the doorway and taking up a position next to Gadreel, crossing his arms over his chest haughtily. "And what, I ask again, is to stop us from binding you?"

Shemhazai chewed another grape and swallowed. "Binding requires a great expenditure of energy, as you and I both know. To bind us both would weaken you and the majority of your men so much you would be easy pickings when my reinforcements arrive."

Azazel rubbed his beard. "So you came as a sacrificial lamb? You and Vikiel would let yourselves be bound to weaken us? But perhaps that is just what you want me to believe. Perhaps you have no reinforcements coming and you only want me to believe that binding you would put me in a position of weakness so that I will not do it."

"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."

Azazel pointed a finger in the air. "Wait til I get going! Now, where was I?"

"A position of weakness," Shemhazai said as he smiled and leaned back into the pillows, feeding himself another grape.

"Yes, you would have me believe that binding you would put me in a position of weakness, and thus you create a quandary. I cannot bind you, for fear it will leave me vulnerable, but I cannot release you to lead your reinforcements into battle. This leaves me with one option."

Vikiel raised his hand, waving it to get Azazel's attention. "Retreat," he asked as Azazel looked his way.

Azazel was spitting mad. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? The two of you defeat me and my brothers, make us flee, all with a simple trick?" He calmed, making a visible show of regaining his composure, relaxing his shoulders and posture. "I think not. Our option is to wait. Once we know if you truly have reinforcements, the decision will become clear."

Shemhazai plucked a grape and tossed it to Vikiel who caught it in his mouth. Shemhazai fed himself a grape and the two chewed as the situation clarified. The first reinforcement to pop into the room was Kokabel, followed by Amazarak, Shamsiel, and Penemue. By the time Ertael popped in, Shemhazai's reinforcements crowded the room, numbering twenty-five in all. He had expected more, but at least it was now an even battle; three times three times three angels on each side.

Azazel lowered his head for a moment and then raised it, a gleam in his eye. "If it is a grand battle you desire, I cannot disappoint you old friend." He waved his hand at the ceiling of the room and the bricks of his home dissolved into sand, falling like a light rain at the feet of the assembled angels. The two sides moved apart from one another, giving themselves space to unfurl their wings. Moments later, the sky was filled with angels and the clash of their swords was heard for miles.

Azazel flew upward and backward, putting space between himself and Shemhazai before he threw a bolt of angelic fire aimed straight for Shemhazai's heart. Shemhazai raised his sword and deflected it. The bolt, instead, smashed into the roof of the home of Azazel's Gomorrite neighbor, turning half of the grand home into rubble in an instant. Shemhazai risked a look around and saw more of the same, both sides spread out across the skies over Sodom and Gomorrah, both sides wielding bolts of angelic fire, both sides deflecting them, and fire raining down upon the cities as the people screamed and fled.

He did not have much time to mourn for the humans once again sacrificed to the battle as another firebolt came in. He swung his sword and tried to bat it back toward Azazel, but the other angel dodged and it flew in an arc off into the distance, losing power and brightness as it grew farther from the angel that threw it. Shemhazai oriented himself in the air and closed the distance between him and Azazel, batting bolts of fire away with his sword as Azazel goaded him forward.

So intent had he been on Azazel, that he did not sense Gadreel coming up from behind. Gadreel had always been one of the fastest fliers, and he overtook Shemhazai, slashing with his sword and clipping the top of Shemhazai's left wing. Before he could slash again, a firebolt from Vikiel took Gadreel below the ribcage on his right side. Gadreel fell toward the ground.

The pain from the wound was excruciating, but Shemhazai couldn't afford the time or energy to heal it, and he could still fly. He continued closing the gap with Azazel and their swords met with such ferocity that they both shattered, showering the plain below with scraps of burning metal. But with all the firebolts that had already been thrown and deflected downward, the cities were mere piles of burning rubble. Anyone who had not been able to escape within the first couple of minutes of fighting was gone.

As Shemhazai manifested a new sword, he felt a floor materialize beneath his feet. His sword was extinguished. Shemhazai and Azazel found themselves holding cold swords at the foot of God's throne in the Celestial Palace of his newest Heaven. "You boys about done?"

God rose from His throne and slowly descended the stairs to the floor where the angels stood. He was a handsome man, but not beautiful like an angel. Instead of robes, He wore pants made of a blue cloth He called Denim with a white shirt made of a lighter weave of cotton. Instead of sandals, He wore hard-soled, hard-heeled boots made of the skin of serpents. He wore his salt-and-pepper beard and moustache closely trimmed, framed by shoulder length hair of the same color.

As He reached the floor He waved a hand and an image of the two burning cities floated in the air. "Look at that," He told the two. "Are you happy now? How many humans are going to die because of your fighting?"

"I have tried to protect the humans," Shemhazai protested.

God looked dourly at Shemhazai. "It was a rhetorical question." God tapped at the side of Shemhazai's head with His forefinger. "Omniscient, remember?"

God stepped away and stood between them again, looking sadly at the image of the burning cities in the air. "I sent you boys down to live as men, to father children, and you started putting on airs. Shemhazai, you keep trying to create a great society. Azazel, well, we know what you were trying to do."

God waved His hand and the image disappeared. "This is the end of the fighting between you two. This is the end of you meddling in broader human affairs. You were sent to live as men, not as angels among men, and that is what you are going to do. You will not use your powers to build great societies or start great wars. And most importantly, you will not fight each other. This binding I place upon you and your brethren for sixty times sixty years."

The jaws of both angels dropped. "In other words, boys. You're on one serious time-out."

Azazel stared daggers at Shemhazai. "And what, my Lord, happens when sixty times sixty years has passed?"

"Well," God said, stroking his beard, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see. You two are dismissed."

Shemhazai and Azazel found themselves outside the crumbling western gate of Sodom, the city burning beside them, Gomorrah completely engulfed in the near distance. All the battling angels stood on the plain between the cities, their wings retracted, their swords gone. Slowly Azazel's brethren limped up to flank him as Shemhazai's brethren limped up behind him.

"A truce then," Shemhazai said, reaching out his hand to shake on it, "for sixty times sixty years."

Azazel looked down at Shemhazai's hand contemptuously and disappeared, his brethren following his lead. In a matter of seconds all were gone.

Vikiel placed a hand on Shemhazai's shoulder. "What just happened?"

Shemhazai sighed. "I will tell you after a long bath and a long nap. Let us go home." Shemhazai disappeared and his brethren followed his lead. The plain was silent, but for the crackling of the flames of two cities burning in the moonlight and the sobbing of the few who escaped, slowly diminishing in the distance as they made their way to Zoar.

---

Some historians would set the date of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah in the spring of 1655 B.C. And 60 times 60 years from the spring of 1655 B.C. would bring us to the spring of 1946 A.D.

But the rest of this story begins a bit before that. It begins in the Ardennes forest in the winter of 1944...