Firespirit Physiology by Jane Kindred
The celestial races in my House of Arkhangel’sk series (both angel and demon) are ruled by one of the four cardinal elements: air, fire, earth, and water. The pure firespirits are the Cherubim, Seraphim, and Ophanim—angels of the Second Choir—but among the demons, who are the product of interbreeding among angels of different choirs, any one of the four elements might be dominant.
I decided to make my demon thief, Vasily, a firespirit. His outward appearance is much like any other ordinary angel or human—well, except for his flame-red dreadlocks, his scruffy red mutton chops, the fact that he’s built like a Cossack warrior, and the rows of spiked piercings down either side of his neck.
But as a firespirit, Vasily has a number of interesting abilities. He runs “hot,” with a body temperature a few degrees above normal, which is convenient when one is sharing a bed with him in the middle of a sub-arctic Russian winter. He can also light a cigar with his tongue, blow glowing smoke rings to illuminate the dark, and fan the flames of a fire with his breath. Not to mention that other thing he can do with his tongue that doesn’t involve cigars.
And despite a rough, gravelly voice and a lack of formal education, he can give a recitation from memory of Pushkin’s novel in iambic tetrameter, Yevgeniy Onegin, that would make you cry. He also has a unique ability among the celestials to heal a magically-induced wound with his elemental radiance—a glowing red aura visible only in the world of Man; and when in the world of Man, his radiance can manifest as wings of brilliant ruby flame.
I had a lot of fun writing Vasily. He started out as a bitter, hardened demon who’d grown up on the streets, abandoned by a mother he never knew, but I soon found facets of his personality beneath his rugged veneer that I hadn’t expected. Without even trying, he manages to not only melt the heart of a century-old demon more cynical than himself with a look from his seraphic-fire glowing eyes, but also kindles the first flames of desire in a pampered celestial grand duchess from a race of angels derided by demons as having ice water in their veins.
Like most firespirits, Vasily is a man of few words. One of my favorite exchanges between him and another character involves Vasily saying nothing at all:
“And if you want to know the Heavens’ honest truth, Lev and I never really got what he saw in you. You’re sullen and ill-tempered and totally self-absorbed.”
Vasily stared at him, speechless, too stunned to be angry.
“And hot,” Belphagor murmured against his shoulder. “Totally hot.”
Creating the different abilities and character traits associated with the four elements was one of my favorite things about writing this series, particularly coming up with wings for each angelic choir made entirely of those elements, yet still practical for flight. Is there an element you relate to more than the others, and if so, what elemental power would you most like to have?
Thanks for stopping by Jane!
Heaven can go to hell.
Until her cousin slaughtered the supernal family, Anazakia’s father ruled the Heavens, governing noble Host and Fallen peasants alike. Now Anazakia is the last grand duchess of the House of Arkhangel’sk, and all she wants is to stay alive.
Hunted by Seraph assassins, Anazakia flees Heaven with two Fallen thieves—fire demon Vasily and air demon Belphagor, each with their own nefarious agenda—who hide her in the world of Man. The line between vice and virtue soon blurs, and when Belphagor is imprisoned, the unexpected passion of Vasily warms her through the Russian winter.
Heaven seems a distant dream, but when Anazakia learns the truth behind the celestial coup, she will have to return to fight for the throne—even if it means saving the man who murdered everyone she loved.
The Fallen Queen is available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Pre-order your copy of Book Two in The House of Arkhangel’sk trilogy, The Midnight Court (Amazon | Barnes & Noble), coming in August 2012.
EXCERPT:
Vasily turned his head. “Son of a succubus,” he growled in a hard, gravelly voice that gave the impression he’d never quite gotten over a childhood bout of laryngitis. “Take it elsewhere.”
Belphagor smiled. “I’ve missed your honeyed tongue.” He watched the bartender pour ice water over the cube of sugar in the slotted silver spoon perched atop the green liqueur. “When did you get back?”
“None of your damn business.” Distance, it seemed, had not made Vasily’s heart grow fonder.
“Fair enough. What brings you to The Brimstone, then?”
“It’s a public den. I don’t need your permission.” Vasily downed the steaming drink as only a firespirit could. “I came with some friends. I told them there were better dens over in the Devil’s Doorstep, but they insisted on wasting their crystal here.”
“Devil’s Doorstep?” Belphagor shook his head and started to make a comment he realized he’d regret. He glanced over at the growing commotion at the gaming tables. The Ophanim had focused on one of the players, and the resisting demon was dragged to his feet. Always unwise to provoke an Ophan’s touch. “Not those friends, I hope.”
Vasily glanced around and swore under his breath. He ducked his head back down over the bar, obviously trying to be inconspicuous—a ludicrous proposition where Vasily was concerned.
Belphagor considered his options. If he was going to attempt what he had in mind, he couldn’t do it alone. Not and keep an eye on the angel. And he was running out of time.
“Might I suggest you throw in your lot with a better class of player?”
Vasily made a harsh sound, no doubt meant to be a scornful laugh. “If you mean yourself, you’re out of your mind. You lost credit in any game you hope to play with me a long time ago.”
Tossing back his absinthe as if it were whiskey, Belphagor noted the heightening altercation at the tables and Vasily’s increasing discomfort. It was clear Vasily would have gotten up and left if he’d dared. The drunken demon resisting arrest began shrieking at the painful contact with the Ophan, shouting loudly about tyranny and revolution.
Belphagor set down the empty cordial and took the cigar stub from his pocket, effecting nonchalance. “What would you say if I told you I have my debt to you in full, right here in my shirt?”
“I’d say it’s rubbish.”
“It’s all rubbish, Vasya. But this sort of rubbish pays bills and buys kegs of nectar.”
He held the cigar between his teeth expectantly, one eye on the Ophanim. They were thoroughly engaged in the fortuitous distraction of Vasily’s “friends,” but it wouldn’t do to be caught with a pouch of crystal equivalent to the net worth of the Demon District in his pocket.
Vasily ignored his unspoken request for a light.
“What’s the matter?” he asked between his teeth. “Cat got your tongue?” Belphagor flicked the tip of the cigar upward pointedly. “Or are you deliberately being rude to get a rise out of me? Because it might be working.”
With a furious glare, the demon stuck out his tongue, the tip narrowed to a glowing point. In spite of his demeanor, it was a trick he loved to show off. Not every firespirit could do it.
Pleased that he could not only still make him furious, but simultaneously goad him into unwitting submission, Belphagor lit the cigar on Vasily’s red-hot tongue, sucking heat from the smoldering leaf. “On my honor.”
Vasily laughed without mirth and shoved Belphagor’s shoulder, nearly toppling him from his stool. Belphagor considered his next move. It was now or never. With the cigar suspended between his fingers and his cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he baited the hook.
“I could use your help on a job. It may be dangerous, but pay’s as good as it gets.” He flicked his gaze toward the second pair of Ophanim entering The Brimstone, presumably to take custody of the brawling demons at the gaming table. “And I get the feeling you may need another way out of here.”
Vasily’s eyes narrowed. He took the cigar from between Belphagor’s fingers and puffed on it. “What sort of job?”
“Ransom,” said Belphagor in a voice that wouldn’t carry. “One of the Host.”
Vasily turned his head. “Son of a succubus,” he growled in a hard, gravelly voice that gave the impression he’d never quite gotten over a childhood bout of laryngitis. “Take it elsewhere.”
Belphagor smiled. “I’ve missed your honeyed tongue.” He watched the bartender pour ice water over the cube of sugar in the slotted silver spoon perched atop the green liqueur. “When did you get back?”
“None of your damn business.” Distance, it seemed, had not made Vasily’s heart grow fonder.
“Fair enough. What brings you to The Brimstone, then?”
“It’s a public den. I don’t need your permission.” Vasily downed the steaming drink as only a firespirit could. “I came with some friends. I told them there were better dens over in the Devil’s Doorstep, but they insisted on wasting their crystal here.”
“Devil’s Doorstep?” Belphagor shook his head and started to make a comment he realized he’d regret. He glanced over at the growing commotion at the gaming tables. The Ophanim had focused on one of the players, and the resisting demon was dragged to his feet. Always unwise to provoke an Ophan’s touch. “Not those friends, I hope.”
Vasily glanced around and swore under his breath. He ducked his head back down over the bar, obviously trying to be inconspicuous—a ludicrous proposition where Vasily was concerned.
Belphagor considered his options. If he was going to attempt what he had in mind, he couldn’t do it alone. Not and keep an eye on the angel. And he was running out of time.
“Might I suggest you throw in your lot with a better class of player?”
Vasily made a harsh sound, no doubt meant to be a scornful laugh. “If you mean yourself, you’re out of your mind. You lost credit in any game you hope to play with me a long time ago.”
Tossing back his absinthe as if it were whiskey, Belphagor noted the heightening altercation at the tables and Vasily’s increasing discomfort. It was clear Vasily would have gotten up and left if he’d dared. The drunken demon resisting arrest began shrieking at the painful contact with the Ophan, shouting loudly about tyranny and revolution.
Belphagor set down the empty cordial and took the cigar stub from his pocket, effecting nonchalance. “What would you say if I told you I have my debt to you in full, right here in my shirt?”
“I’d say it’s rubbish.”
“It’s all rubbish, Vasya. But this sort of rubbish pays bills and buys kegs of nectar.”
He held the cigar between his teeth expectantly, one eye on the Ophanim. They were thoroughly engaged in the fortuitous distraction of Vasily’s “friends,” but it wouldn’t do to be caught with a pouch of crystal equivalent to the net worth of the Demon District in his pocket.
Vasily ignored his unspoken request for a light.
“What’s the matter?” he asked between his teeth. “Cat got your tongue?” Belphagor flicked the tip of the cigar upward pointedly. “Or are you deliberately being rude to get a rise out of me? Because it might be working.”
With a furious glare, the demon stuck out his tongue, the tip narrowed to a glowing point. In spite of his demeanor, it was a trick he loved to show off. Not every firespirit could do it.
Pleased that he could not only still make him furious, but simultaneously goad him into unwitting submission, Belphagor lit the cigar on Vasily’s red-hot tongue, sucking heat from the smoldering leaf. “On my honor.”
Vasily laughed without mirth and shoved Belphagor’s shoulder, nearly toppling him from his stool. Belphagor considered his next move. It was now or never. With the cigar suspended between his fingers and his cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he baited the hook.
“I could use your help on a job. It may be dangerous, but pay’s as good as it gets.” He flicked his gaze toward the second pair of Ophanim entering The Brimstone, presumably to take custody of the brawling demons at the gaming table. “And I get the feeling you may need another way out of here.”
Vasily’s eyes narrowed. He took the cigar from between Belphagor’s fingers and puffed on it. “What sort of job?”
“Ransom,” said Belphagor in a voice that wouldn’t carry. “One of the Host.”
She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.
You can find Jane on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and on her website.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Wow, Vasily sounds pretty cool looking! I love the idea of using the four elements.
ReplyDeleteThanks for a fun post! Congrats on the new release!
ReplyDeleteThis sounds really good. Congrats on the release!!
ReplyDeleteThe Fallen Queen! Hopefully the books sounds just as amazing as the reviews.
ReplyDelete