Light And Shadow (Part 4 of 8)

by Erisian

 

Chapter 16 - Goddess

 

The eyes of a hundred kneeling demons were upon me. The fight had chewed up a lot of terrain and we’d moved within field-goal distance of the crowd before it was done. As much as I wanted to just fall over and lie there in the dirt that was not an option. Instead I slowly forced myself up. Thighs, calves, and even pinky toes protested, sending agony up every available nerve to decry the idiocy of such an action.

I couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not here. Not now. By the rules of the duel I couldn’t be immediately challenged by anyone else but that didn’t matter.

The soul-sucking bastards needed to fear me. Or else they would never accept my commands.

Yaria hurried over with my items. Her wary expression gave voice to the unspoken question of how badly was I hurt. My only response was to wave her off towards Barry and the woman.

“See to them,” I said quietly, taking only the bracers and spear from the bundle. “Wrap them as best you can in the rest of those and get them warm.”

She nodded and stepped past.

As for me I called out to the cyclops while slipping on Camael’s gifts over a multitude of bruises. “You! One-eye! What do I call you?”

The eye blinked. “Balus.”

“Balus,” I repeated. “Good.” Taking a command stance with one fist on a hip and the butt of the spear planted against the ground, I faced off with the fiendish horde. Too many ribs made a nasty crunchy sound as I did so. Still practically naked and covered in crud I wondered if that would weirdly add to the effect.

“Alright you lot, listen up!” I shouted. “You’re probably wondering how in the nine - or however many there are - Hells could a soul have torched your leader to dust.” I paused to stare directly into quite a few eyes, meeting angry glares with equal ones of my own. “Because yeah he was strong. And he sure was fast. He was also an idiot! He had no friggen’ clue as to what he was dealing with! So let’s be clear on that from the start, shall we?”

I raised the marked palm so all could see. “He is gone! His true name unmade! By that Achilles Heel and weakness which every last one of you damned monsters share. Disobey my will and you will share his fate and be consigned to oblivion. For by the connections of fealty granted by this victory are each of your hidden names revealed to me!”

To ‘prove’ the point, I sent a flash of that purple rage into the lines of energy connecting my mark to theirs, willing it to burn. Some grunted and staggered a step but most stood deathly still and took it.

“Defy me and die!” I yelled. “Serve me and live. It’s that simple. Choose, and choose now! What say you!”

One hundred foul demons bellowed their response.

“Hail Jordan! Hail Commander!”

Not a single one had remained silent.

Right. With that established, what next? Despite the headache pounding with each subsequent heartbeat I forced the brain to focus.

“So be it! My first command is this: Balus is hereby my acting second. Whether he keeps that position will be judged later but for now his orders are as mine.”

If that shocked the armored tentacled-armed giant he gave no sign of it. His head bowed a little lower and he replied, “Is honor, Commander.”

“Damn right it is. The second command is that all digging under the Hole ceases immediately pending further review of the situation. Thirdly I want full reports prepared on our current logistical status: supplies, armaments, condition of each warrior and what their specialties are. These are to be delivered after I have inspected my quarters and taken refreshment. Maintain security patrols and vigilance. More of my party shall be granted entrance and brought to me. The Lilim Yaria, who is my guest and friend, shall retrieve them presently.”

“Concurrence.” Balus extended one sucker-covered appendage over the crowd. “Horatio. Forward.”

Like a hot knife through butter did the demons back away from where the giant had pointed, revealing in the back of the crowd a tall and lanky man. He was wrapped up in a thick brown fur coat with wispy grey hair and wearing rather familiar goggles and stepped through the emerging gap before bowing deeply, a practiced maneuver executed perfectly. “M’lady.” He stayed low, obviously waiting for me to acknowledge him.

I deliberately counted to five before waving an acknowledgment. It may have been bitchy, but I had my reasons. “And you are?”

“Horatio Greenwood, m’lady,” he said as he stepped further in front of the crowd, the Queen’s English offering its specific cadence to his speech. Several scars ran down the cheeks under the goggles. Most old, but a couple new. “I have served as the personal valet of Commander Dhalgrix. A role I can only hope you shall graciously allow me the honor to continue whilst in thy service.”

Call it a hunch, but I’d have bet good coin that a soul kicking the ass of his former master was not something he’d ever conceived possible.

Yet here we were.

“We’ll discuss it,” I told him.

Yaria moved to my side, a hefty lump of barely covered Scotsman draped across her shoulders. The sight of her slender figure easily managing Barry’s unconscious bulk was comically unbalanced, but as a girl with unusual strength myself who was I to comment. Behind her and wearing the coat I was already missing was the woman. Her face was kept turned towards the ground as if in subservience, but by the deliberateness of her otherwise cautious pose it was clear she was one hairs-breadth moment away from trying to run for it.

With the wall of hostile demons facing us being held in check only by fear of personal obliteration I couldn’t blame her. I could feel their fears, hatreds, and the surges of raw lust pouring off of the lot of them, the link between us amplifying my usual senses of such. Forcing an exhale I waved a casual hand at them all. “Dismissed!”

Most stared stupidly, unsure as to what to do or where to go. Balus solved that by wading into their midst, his massive four arms slapping them about as he shouted terse commands to motivate them to be elsewhere.

While he did so I thought for a moment then made a decision.

“Yaria,” I said in a quieter voice. “Can you go tell the others? And please get Hank here quick. I need him and his military experience. I’ll see that Barry is attended to.”

“I’m taking Barry back to our tent,” she said, shifting her hold on him rather protectively. “He should wake up in familiar surroundings.”

Oh, right. Barry and the Lilim twins were, uhmm, close. “Sure. That’s fine.”

“I’ll be swift.” So saying she laid the still-unconscious man on the ground before stepping away a few meters to shift to her massive harpy form. Then with a couple beats of wings as wide as a house she was airborne, scooping Barry ever-so-carefully up in deathly-sharp claws to carry him away.

Leaving me with Horatio, the woman freed from Dhalgrix’s innards, and the scarily-large Balus who was now standing nearby and awaiting further orders.

I hoped I hadn’t just made a fatal mistake letting Yaria leave. Crud.

Horatio cleared his throat and pointed at the departing harpy and Scotsman. “That soul doth belong to you now, m’lady,” he said cautiously. “The Lilim may attempt to abscond with him.”

“She won’t.” As he didn’t look at all convinced I added, “Seriously. It would besmirch her honor to even consider it.”

He raised a wiry eyebrow. “Indeed? A debt of some kind is owed?”

The freezing wind picked up and I shivered, something I hadn’t done in a long time. Take it from me, don’t do that with busted ribs. Ignoring his question I asked one far more important. “Dhalgrix had his own tent, right?”

“Yes, m’lady.” He was wise enough not to push any further. “Shall I fetch a wagon to convey us?”

Oh man, I so wanted to sit and get off my feet. “No. I’ll walk. Lead on.”

The guy paused, likely wondering how best to tell the crazy person who now technically owned his ass that she was an idiot.

I decided to confirm the first part but correct the second. “I may indeed be mad North-by-Northwest, Horatio. But let potential poisoners think twice for I am no hesitating Prince of Denmark. I’ll make it. I have to.”

He bowed his head and may have hidden a smile. “This way, my lady.”

As I followed and darn near froze both poor grungy nipples off, I was definitely feeling more akin to Elizabeth. You know, emerging from prison to take a throne beset on all sides by enemies. Except in my case I didn’t even have on any prisoner’s rags leaving me sincerely hoping Dhalgrix’s quarters came equipped with a bath so I could clean up before figuring out what the heck to wear. Given demonic hygiene though this sadly wasn’t likely.

I turned to the woman who still hadn’t said a word. “You should follow. I’d rather not send the armored giant here after you if you try to run.”

She hesitated and gave Balus a quick glance before nodding.

We therefore trudged together: a personal valet, a naked and muddy battle-damaged spear-wielding lunatic, a silent and hastily clothed brunette biding her time to figure out just where the heck she was, and a monstrously tall cyclopian horror all out for a casual stroll through the encampment. Under Balus’ piercing gaze everyone around tried to appear busy at something, be it sharpening nasty looking implements of war, fixing wagons (a task I was well familiar with), or sparring against each other while grunting and shouting with the effort. Some were gambling with rune-covered cards, both denari and soulstones comprising the pot.

Seeing the last made my skin crawl more than the cold.

With side glances or outright glares, all attention was naturally on me as we walked past, each demon broadcasting their own unique mix of reactions echoed across faces forged of fangs and spikes, fur and scales. I did my best to ignore them as if they were beneath contemplation all while on edge waiting for one to try something stupid and violent.

The mercs all had their own tents scattered around the campground. The stench of demonhood was overbearing and seemed to be spread out equally. If there was a hierarchy to the arrangement, I couldn’t make it out as the canvas-covered domiciles varied from being small spots useful only for sleeping to multi-person pavilions complete with enslaved soul retinues in various states of undress and abuse. None of their tents appeared to have the Tardis-like spellwork like Vance’s, so the sizes accurately displayed either the status of their pocketbooks or instead how little the owner gave a crap about such visual displays of wealth.

It fortunately didn’t take long to discover that Dhalgrix had belonged in the former category.

Guarding a two-story tall cloth structure of fashionably deeps blues and wild greens were two demons who must have scurried rapidly ahead of us to retake their assigned posts after Balus’ dismissal. More humanoid in form, they wore black armor stylized to be akin to Dhalgrix’s own armored skin aspect complete with similar spikes. Both held impressive soul-forged pole-arms radiating pure hatred and mindless blood-lust. As we approached they snapped to attention, helmets staring straight ahead with a sharp discipline akin to the Queen’s Guards in England.

I wondered if Horatio had influenced that.

“Balus,” I said to the big guy, “stay out here with the guards. You know, keep an eye on things.”

“Affirm.” If he got the joke he didn’t show it. Instead he crossed two sets of leathery arms and became a living lighthouse, sweeping his green-glowing and singular gaze slowly from side to side.

Horatio however did catch the humor and made a strangled sound - almost a whimper of fear - before forcing his composure back into place. “M’lady,” he choked out, “shall we get inside? Thy weariness must be heavy indeed.”

“Meh.” I took hold of the thick canvas covering the entrance and stepped inside to see how the leader of a band of evil lived it up when not slaughtering enemies and sucking on new souls.

It pretty much matched my mental expectations. Opulent drapery covered the inner tent canvas and more importantly three iron stoves (with pipes leading up and out of the roof) provided a welcome warmth bordering on painful due to the sharp transition in temperature between outside and in.

As for light, glowing demonic runes dangled from the high ceiling to illuminate everything within. That everything included racks of weapons and shields of various styles, a throne-like felwood chair in the center adorned with a disgusting amount of embedded skulls, thick woven rugs with designs pretending to be magical covering the ground, a pair of large rune-covered metal chests which weren’t pretending, and in the back an oversized four-poster bed with a mattress comprised of a blanket-covered straw pile which would have given my original human-self a major allergy fit. As for the frame itself, it had been designed in pieces to make it easier to load onto wagons and sported even more of those hollow skulls wedged seemingly at random into the wood.

Ugh.

Laying across one of the chests was Captain Erglyk’s crystal longbow, string unslung and the matching soulforged endless quiver resting at its side. My own chest tightened at the sight but a slight cough from further in the room snapped me out of any mournful memories.

Sitting on the bed’s edge was a thin woman huddled under a white thickly furred blanket who had - I kid you not - a silver tiara adorned with a ridiculous number of gems which sat upon well-brushed and flowing blonde hair totally not gunked up with dirt and grime unlike mine. In fact she looked like she’d just stepped directly out of a beauty salon and had casually wrapped herself with a blanket as if that was the current most fashionable thing to do.

Behind those immaculately coifed bangs sat a pair of pensive green eyes flecked with gold which tracked as I stepped further inside before darting to Horatio when he came in behind. Once he let the flap fall closed after the soul-freed woman wearing my coat had also crept within, the blonde was on blue-slippered feet striding across the room and dragging the blankets with her as she went.

“Horatio!” she hissed, brushing past me to get to him. “What the fuck!” Pulling the comforter down she revealed the golden star perched (rather elegantly, I thought) upon her upper chest just off the shoulder. “Did he sell me? How could you let that happen!” Those emerald irises quickly looked me up and down and did the same to the brunette.

The look wasn’t kindly.

Oh geeze. She was afraid we were her replacements.

“Chill woman,” I said before Horatio had the chance to answer. “You weren’t sold. Dhalgrix is dead.”

That got her attention. “Impossible.”

“Shit happens.” I shrugged. “Horatio, explain it to her.” Nearby was a metal stand holding a single silver chalice and jug. The jug was filled with water and while Horatio and the blonde exchanged heated whispers I filled the chalice.

Ignoring their discussion (though I did catch that the blonde’s name was Veronica) I offered the cup to the other woman whose curly brunette locks were threaded with a silver of their own. “You must be thirsty. Drink.”

Need overcame hesitation. Slowly as not to rush it she downed the contents. As she did so Horatio and the blonde fell quiet, watching.

The woman then refilled the goblet and offered it back to me.

“Thanks.” I took a sip of my own.

“You saved me.” Her voice was brittle and cautious.

“Yeah, guess I did. Got a name?”

“Maddalena.” Brown and intelligent eyes searched mine, full of questions she wasn’t sure were safe to ask.

“Nice to meet you, Maddalena,” I said as the tiredness sank deeper alongside the swallow. “I’m Jordan. You’re probably wondering what happens next.” I sent more of the clean water down my throat. “That makes two of us.”

“Are you a witch?”

“Of sorts.” There was only one chair in the entire room and unfortunately it was the ugly throne. Dhalgrix had obviously been a jerk, giving himself the only place to sit in here, and I certainly wasn’t going to perch on a throne covered with a bunch of freaking skulls. Instead I plonked tiredly down onto the rug having decided I didn’t care how much crud got rubbed into the carpet as a result.

Maddalena lowered herself onto knees a couple feet away. “Did the Goddess send you?” Her face was lean. Too lean. She’d been mostly starved before being swallowed.

Either that or being so long inside a demon does that to a soul.

I shook my head. “We’re in Hell. Don’t think that applies.”

Her next statement was also possibly a question. “How could it not.”

“Look,” I said while trying to shake off the persistent headache and failing. “I’m still figuring out how things work down here but from what I can see you aren’t marked as mine by contract. Not like Horatio and blondie over there. You never swore yourself to Dhalgrix’s service.”

An old strength flickered within her. “Never.”

“Then you’ll have to choose what you do next.” The chalice was empty. Dangit, now I’d have to stand again to get more.

As if reading my mind Horatio was instantly at my side with another jug, filling the cup. Apparently his conversation with Veronica had completed. “M’lady, by rights this one may be claimed as yours as well.”

My response was instant. “No.”

Horatio’s sudden tenseness made me realize I’d said that a lot more harshly than intended.

I exhaled and rubbed my face which only yielded an equal exchange of crud between forehead and fingers. “Sorry, but no. Maddalena needs to choose. She’s free to stay under my protection if she wishes or go do whatever else she may want to do. Petition the Hole maybe, or try to join the Lilim. It’s up to her, got it? And until she makes that choice she’s my guest and you will take care of her under the rules of hospitality. It’s not like I even know what the heck I’m going to do about all of this as it is.”

The woman stared at the floor, her forehead creasing with rapid but conflicting thoughts. “You would let me go?”

I nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“You’re hurt.” She slid those bony knees closer, reaching to touch the bare bruises on my skin with hands still cold from outside.

“I’ll heal. It’ll just take some time.” I flinched and started to pull away.

“Please. Allow me to help you.”

Not sure what she was doing, I held still.

Shrugging her shoulders the coat fell away so we both sat there naked as could be but for my bracers. I’d been right about her being unnaturally scrawny as her ribs were painfully visible under breasts which had been starved down almost to non-existence. Maddalena then closed her eyes and chanted under her breath:

 

“Dovete venire in luogo deserto,

In una selva tutte insieme,

E adorare lo spirito potente

Di mia madre Diana, e chi vorra

Imparare la stregonerie,

Che non la sopra,

Mia madre le insegnera,

Tutte cose…

Sarete liberi della schiavitù!

E cosi diverrete tutti liberi!

Pero uomini e donne

Sarete tutti nudi, per fino.

Che non sara morto l'ultimo

Degli oppressori e morto.”

 

The mantra, likely repeated many many times while she’d been alive, was spoken in her native Italian. Somehow her spirit had kept it from being transformed into the generic mortal tongue of this realm, the language we all spoke with only weird hints of our native accents. Maybe because this was part of a prayer.

A prayer to the goddess Diana.

 

Ye shall assemble in some desert place, or in a forest all together and join to adore the potent spirit of your queen, my mother, great Diana. She who fain would learn all sorcery, yet has not won its deepest secrets, then my mother will teach her, in truth all things as yet unknown. And ye shall all be freed from slavery, and so ye shall be free in everything. And as the sign that ye are truly free, ye shall be naked in your rites, both men and women also: this shall last until the last of your oppressors shall be dead.

 

Her hands grew warm and that heat seeped within my bones bringing a gasp past my lips. Like a swallow of the freshest hot tea sending warmth and comfort along with the herbal flavors, so did her power flow through my body. Where it reached all pain washed away as if by a river’s steady flow.

I couldn’t help but shudder with relief. First through thighs and calves, then the breaths I’d unconsciously kept shallow filled as the wave crested to restore rib after cracked rib. Battered arms and hands fell limp, the cup hitting the carpet and rolling away.

If her hands hadn’t kept me steady I too would have fallen over.

The soothing kept going and spread over shoulders and into my back. Where wings should have been the sensation hit a wall, the wounded missing limb flaring immediately with its own heat and anger. So sharp was the reaction that both I and Maddalena yelped loudly and she tore her healing hands away.

Out of sheer instinct she retreated a few feet away to stare in dismay as fresh blood pooled on the rug behind me having fallen out of the air to stain the fibers below.

Maddalena blinked to clear her sight of whatever it was she’d seen. “By the Goddess, what afflicts you?”

I grimaced, suppressing a groan. “Old wound. Really stubborn. Don’t worry about it.” As the wing’s ire dampened I was able to take in a deeper breath without issue. “Thank you. That was Italian, wasn’t it.”

“Yes. Did you speak it?”

I figured it’d be easier to claim I did then to try and explain the whole Gift of Tongues from being an angel thing. “Enough to get by, sure. And that’s some impressive healing power you’ve got.”

“The demons hunted me because of it.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I can see why. Made that asshole a bitch to fight. You’re a truly priceless soul with that talent, likely worth more than any other.”

Her face shut down hard and the woman’s shoulders tensed.

Ah geeze. I was such an idiot. “Don’t worry! This doesn’t change what I said. You’re free, okay? Free!”

“You still mean that?” She watched me close, examining every twinge on my exhausted cheeks. “Even after knowing what I can do?”

“Absolutely. It all stands.” I tried to sound as friendly and certain as I could. A suspicion was building that she may have healed me just to gauge my reaction, to test whether my words were just another con. How long ago Dhalgrix had swallowed her was a mystery, but if she had recognized any of the demons on the walk in - or even Horatio, for that matter - then her ability would’ve been revealed to me eventually. Of course, having seen Dhalgrix heal himself in the fight I already had known one of the souls must have had that kind of talent.

She nodded though she remained tensely focused. She wasn’t convinced.

“Look,” I said. “I’m not a demon. I can’t gain your power and sure as heck won’t try some cockamamie spell to try to anyway. As is I’m darned impressed with how coherent you are after what you’ve likely experienced.”

“The Goddess granted me protection.”

“Protection? How?” Had she had some kind of magic defending her soul? I hadn’t detected any.

“Demons conquer through pain or corruption using illusion and lies. To serve the Goddess one must have clarity of self, of all the holiness and sin within.” She gave me a weary half-smile. “This training was something I did not properly grasp in life.”

“But if you resisted him, how was he able to use your ability?”

“My oath to the Goddess was to heal without judgment. In failing that oath was I condemned to Hell. I will not fail so again.”

Good grief. Such an oath would mean healing even those who would keep doing evil. Like demons. But wasn’t that what ER surgeons did every day for all the shot up gang members who were ushered by paramedics past their doors? The doctors all knew such patients would just go out to shoot more people and cause more suffering. Yet they stitched them up anyway.

I guess I had never really thought about it before. Was healing someone while they were in a hospital any different than healing them while they were actively causing harm?

Not sure there was a good answer to that.

She was about to say more but a loud thump from outside shook the tent. Sharing a look of alarm we both hopped to our feet, but I shouldn’t have worried. Beyond the canvas I sensed one large aura accompanied by two smaller ones, more specifically Yaria had brought back both Hank and Twitch. Twitch was first through the flap. He’d even used his speed to zip past the guards before they could react, fast enough to risk fresh burns from the friction between skin and clothing.

Frantically he looked around the room until he saw me standing there as nude as I’d been when he’d first found me cratered out on the Edge. Flipping the goggles out of the way he took in all the dried grey mud covering me from head to toe and his pupils swam wide within vast fields of white. They’d reacted as if he’d seen a ghost.

Twitch, who’d been silent the entire time I’d known him, then did something which pulled an entire rug out from under my mental framework.

In a confused and broken voice he blurted:

“Jenna?”

 

Chapter 17 - Fate

 

In one’s life there are rare moments when everything shifts and old perceptions shatter and blow away. Sometimes this can be from experiences dramatic and obvious, say for example waking up to discover your choice of public restrooms had been irrevocably swapped and you needed an entirely new wardrobe. Or from finding out you’re not only an angel but also supposed to be the First Horseman of the Apocalypse.

You know, that kind of thing.

It can also happen from events much more subtle, when one piece of information falls out of nowhere to paint an entirely different picture across what you thought you knew. Many folks continue to deny the truth when that happens.

Others get pissed off.

Twitch and I were each frozen in double shock, stuck in an odd staring contest that neither dared nor even knew how to end. I couldn’t shake free but found the wherewithal to speak. “Everyone out. Now.” The words came out far angrier than I’d intended.

Despite Horatio’s confusion and Veronica’s befuddlement, Yaria and Hank herded them outside. Maddalena nodded once in acknowledgment and followed the rest.

Thus Twitch and I found ourselves in the massive tent alone with the sounds of crackling fires from the three stoves. His eyes, peeking above the cloth covering his mouth and nose, were utterly lost and uncertain, burdened with old sorrow and the pain of a harshly triggered memory.

As for me I pulsed with a deep-seated fury as a number of self-deceptions cracked.

“Hi Tommy,” I said with a spoonful of bitterness. Yet this wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t to blame for my destiny yet again being directly toyed with - or more truthfully, having been continuously manipulated this entire time. He was as much a victim of it as I.

With a forced sigh I added, “Nice to finally properly meet you.”

He didn’t say anything. He was stuck in place standing there like a scared rabbit preparing to bolt as if not sure whether they were trapped within some crazed dream. Or a night-terror.

And I figured it out. I knew why he had been the one to find me, why I’d landed where I had. With that understanding my selfish reaction melted away and I saw only my friend standing there in terrible pain.

Taking a step closer, I reached for the wrappings over his cheeks. Gloved hands instinctively came up to stop me but they paused, allowing my fingers to peel the cloth away and reveal the flame-scarred features he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. Despite the fierce ravages of ancient fire I could now see the resemblance: the sweep of the nose, the high cheekbones, and most of all the strength yet vulnerability contained therein. With the touch between us images from his past flickered by though in truth I had no need to see them.

“Your talent,” I said with his cheek trembling against my hand. “It came with the same seizures as hers, didn’t it. But your skill was of speed, making such a condition so much worse. The vibrational field must’ve set aflame your clothes along with your skin.”

 

A bedroom wall comes alive with hot reflected colors, a boy tumbles out of his bunk only to also set the carpet aflame as he thrashes upon it. Tremors so fierce that vocal cords lock and prevent the inner screams of agony and terror from their desired escape.

 

He whimpered but didn’t pull away and I kept on talking.
“I’ve also been consumed by fire. It’s awful beyond words. But you, at what, age of twelve? Thirteen? You awoke in the hospital with bandages over every last part of you. And worse, with this kind of damage you could no longer feel a thing. The nerves were gone.”

 

Doctors hover overhead whispering of skin grafts, all while nervously watching the monitors for any sign of yet another spontaneous conflagration of which there had already been several.

In some respect it was a mercy that only the first occurrence had been accompanied by pain.

 

“You adored her. Your older sister. She’d been so strong dealing with the shakes whenever they would strike, always getting back up. Bravely dealing with the loss of hair each time her talent spread that stone armor from stem to stern. But you couldn’t even feel her worried hand after what had happened to you, lost as you were within a perpetual numbness with a twisted horror made flesh staring back at you from the mirror. And so you said goodbye.”

 

The boy’s bandaged hands fumble with the phone his sister had smuggled in against hospital rules. Unfeeling clumsy fingers fight with the touchscreen to send a text to its only stored contact while the white cloth surrounding them soaked through with red.

A thumb hits send and first the cloth and then the entire room burn.

The message had been short.

“I’m sorry.”

 

As I embraced the man the boy had become he shuddered with a single sob.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” I said softly. “I’ve never told you anything, never shared who I was or spoke of those I left behind.” Staring over his shoulder, I saw past the tent to the empty plains beyond. “I thought that by falling here I was done. No more crazy fates and tossed aside forever. Best to just crawl into a quiet hole and stay there. But it was you who found me out on the Edge. You were meant to find me, broken wings and all. Because she sent me.”

He pulled back, confusion blinking past the tears.

“Jenna,” I said with a sad smile as his eyes widened yet again. “Your Rockslide, your sister, I knew her. With her loving heart she accepted me for who I was and became one of my dearest friends. She loves you, Tom. She forgives you and I know that she prays for you every day. And though I didn’t realize it while I was there, I believe she prayed that I would find a way to save you.”

Shocked sniffled wetness dripped across the unending scars.

“Instead,” I added while hugging him close again, “out on that Edge it was you who saved me.”

He let me hold him. Within the following silence I realized Twitch wasn’t the only one who’d been without a hug for too long.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Sadly the moment of tenderness couldn’t last forever. Horatio gave us a polite yet interrupting cough; he must have convinced Yaria to let him pass.

“My lady, the Hole has flagged a desire to parley.”

Pulling away from Twitch I left a large grey smear across his coat. “I need a bath, Horatio. Can’t they wait?”

Twitch quickly turned away, binding again the damaged skin and damaged heart once more under the winter mask.

Horatio considered. “It would appear the lady Yaria had her sister signal them regarding your victory. I believe with an acknowledgment from us they can be mollified for a short time. Do we have your permission to reply?”

“Yeah. Tell them I’ll gladly meet after I’ve washed the blood and dirt off my tired ass.”

“I shall send an appropriate response. As for bathing we can warm bowls of water on the stove and if you wish Veronica shall assist using her sponges.”

“Let me guess,” I grumbled. “Mercenary demons don’t use bathtubs.”

“Not while on campaign, my lady.”

“No wonder this camp stinks so badly. Oh god, please tell me they at least dug a latrine somewhere.”

“We souls have, my lady. And there are indeed some masters who allow us to clean up in their wake.”

Masters. A tension snapped across shoulders but a forced deep breath let it go. Now was not the time.

Someday, maybe. But not now.

“Alright. Let’s do the sponge bath. While Veronica scrubs my back I need to talk to everyone.” At this point my modesty was well and truly hosed so may as well get them all in here, right?

Of course what I wanted most was to curl up, maybe in Twitch’s arms just for closeness, and pass out. I was bone tired and wrung out. One proper sleep of rest between the long march and the flight out here had not been nearly enough. With the intrusion of long-past heavenly conflicts, the post-stew nap I’d managed after healing Vance had not exactly been restful either. The fight with Dhalgrix had seriously worn me out even further; Maddalena had healed the wounds but not the exhaustion.

Let’s face it, my reserves were seriously shot.

To quote a famous Star Trek villain who shared a name with my cat, time was a luxury I did not have. And yes, it didn’t matter that I was now trapped eternally in Hell. Khan was still my beloved kitty no matter what separated us.

Always.

“Everyone, my lady?” Horatio was uncertain as to whom that statement encompassed.

I waved a filthy hand. “Hank, Twitch, Yaria, you, and get Maddalena back out of the cold too. Plus Balus if he fits. Were there any other demons in Dhalgrix’s command crew who should be considered?”

Horatio rubbed the back of his neck. “His brother and the deceased wizards had fulfilled that function, my lady.”

“Right. Balus only then.”

Thus the crew gathered while a pretty woman pretending not to be terrified of what fate I might force upon her scrubbed me from head to toe in front of an iron stove. Rinsing a sponge in a bowl of cold water before dipping into hot and applying to the skin, she adeptly cleaned the grime one section at a time.

I’ll admit it actually felt pretty good.

However I had specific things I needed to know before dealing with the Hole. I prompted Hank to rely on his military experience and get him questioning Horatio - and as needed Balus - about the situational posture, force strength, and training of the demonic mob outside.

Specifically I was more concerned about our logistics. This was a sizable force of demons and souls and as it’s said an army runs on its stomach. I’d read enough history to have learned that much. Or maybe had just been stuck listening to Isaiah lecture on and on about such things whenever the topic had come up.

As it turned out the food supply was indeed problematic. Their original plan (much as we’d already figured) was to take the Hole right away and gain access to all its stores. While the plunder from my lost outpost was keeping them going for now, stores were running low. The recently departed Commander Buttmunch had expected to break through under the Hole within a few more hours and from there somehow get in under the shield protecting the base to ravage it for new supplies. Maybe he hadn’t known like Yaria had about their shield going underground too, but happily he was no longer around to question.

Of course, maybe he had known but had just lied to his own crew about it.

Neither Horatio nor Balus knew what he had planned after that, whether that was all he’d agreed to when hired or whether there was more. Horatio, to my surprise, knew who had hired Dhalgrix - or at least who had made the arrangement: the vizier of one Duke Juxtyle whom I’d never heard of before. According to Yaria this Duke was an erstwhile ally of Duke Valgor. So much for that I guess. Payment had been up front, the coins contained in a small chest in a corner which Horatio admitted was reaching its limits even with the reinforcements from Epsilon’s vault.

“To be honest, my lady,” Horatio said, “Former Commander Dhalgrix’s funds are running out. Within another two sleeps without fresh resources there won’t be enough to pay the soldiers. This could be contentiously difficult.”

I blinked. “Wait. He has to pay these guys?” I gestured past the tent’s walls towards all the demons outside.

“To fight, require payment,” Balus grunted. He was crouched just inside the entrance, missing only the striped sweatpants and sneakers to look like a multi-tentacled Russian mobster lurking within a daughter’s small play tent.

“Uh,” I said not liking the sound of this. “What happens if the money runs out?”

Yaria and Horatio exchanged glances before Yaria said bluntly, “Free for all. The split of proceeds earned so far consolidates to those left standing.”

It was suddenly a lot colder. And not just because Veronica had run out of hot water and was waiting for more to heat up.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Wouldn’t they just team up to take me out with the assumption that Dhalgrix had a larger stash than anyone else?”

Everyone stared at me in silence. Horatio in a more hushed voice said, “You could turn control over to someone else. Forsake Dhalgrix’s share from the job. You were a reaper at Epsilon, correct? The Hole should be willing to return you to such a role under Duke Valgor.”

“Tempting,” I admitted. I looked over them all while trying to sort out my thoughts. Twitch had left his goggles off and perked up at the mention of going back to the life of a reaper. Hank though was heavily studying all my reactions from behind a neutral expression.

Oh. If I went back to being a reaper then he’d be turned over to the Duke and to an uncertain fate. If I somehow kept the mercs, then he’d remain one of mine. The poor guy had a rather invested interest in whatever I decided. Actually all of them except for Yaria did. Which likely explained her amused expression at the entire situation.

Well either that or she was finding it funny that I was still naked and being bathed in front of everyone while having such discussions. If I hadn’t been so freaking tired and stressed I might have laughed myself.

“Hey Horatio?” I asked instead, eyes having found a potential distraction from that line of thought. “You said Dhalgrix’s funds were in that lockbox by the bed, right?”

“Correct, my lady.”

“Then what’s in those large chests sitting in the middle there?” I pointed to the two massive rune-covered metal boxes that had first drawn my curiosity when I’d come in.

Horatio moved to stand behind them, hands clasped behind his back. “We know not. These were taken from the late Captain Erglyk’s quarters. Dhalgrix forbade their opening as he feared their wards could be similar in devastation to the doors which took his brother’s life.”

The magic was clearly defensive, but it certainly wasn’t mine. “Nope. I didn’t ward these. When I get a chance I’ll see what can be done.” Catching Maddalena’s interested examination of the hunks of metal I added, “Maybe Maddalena here can help get them open.”

Huddled within a thick blanket the woman nodded. “The spell seems simple enough. Do you wish for me to try?”

“Only if you’re darned sure it’s safe,” I said. “Erglyk wouldn’t rely on simple. Which reminds me of yet another mystery: inside the vault at Epsilon was a secret second vault behind the wall. Something - or maybe multiple somethings - got dragged out of it. What did it contain?”

To my surprise Balus answered. “Barrels. Many. Heavy.”

“Barrels? Did Dhalgrix keep any?”

Horatio shook his head. “All were loaded onto wagons driven by separate contractors. We parted ways at Epsilon.”

A different team, eh? One with skills enough to shield them from my sight when I’d scanned from the top of Epsilon no less. “What was in them?”

He didn’t know. Nor did Balus.

“Great,” I grumbled. “Just great. So they took them back to the Spires. Let me guess, the whole motley crew outside was brought here using a gate somewhere up there?”

Horatio nodded. “Master Krichgon, Dhalgrix’s brother, was the only one of us able to work such magics. Vizier Ithx awaited for us there.”

Huh. “Wait, you’re telling me that not only was Dhalgrix running out of funds but he also had no way to get his team back to wherever your home base is?”

“I believe he negotiated with Ithx for one of their sorcerers to open the portal when the job was done.”

Yaria abruptly stepped forward to interrupt. “I need to return to my father. Ruyia thought he might awaken soon.”

I blinked. “We haven’t even talked to the commander of the Hole yet. Don’t you want to be there for that?”

She shrugged. “They contracted for us to observe their attackers and report. We have done so. My father will settle the account.”

Thinking quickly I chewed on a lip. “You sure? If you aren’t there to confirm the duel was done properly, they’re gonna think I’m in cahoots with the mercs on the attack.”

Yaria tilted her head. “How do you figure?”

“Because Charles tried to betray them and he’s also a reaper. Even though I gave the warning about him, they’ll think it’s some deeper play. Most of all though, there’s no way they’ll accept that a mortal could have taken down Dhalgrix. They’ll believe it all a ruse, that the whole fight was an illusion and a new ploy to get agents inside. I need you to tell them I’m legit.”

“Then we go now.” She crossed arms, leaning to one side impatiently. “Once they are convinced I go to Father immediately.” Having stood there casually during my entire bath, the shift of mood seemed odd.

Well, maybe not. “You want to chase after the guy, don’t you,” I said. “This Ithx character.”

She grinned, sharp fangs extending as if she was a movie vampire. “Duke Valgor would pay a hefty bounty for his capture.”

A rush of cold went down my spine as if someone had slid ice cubes across each vertebrae. But Veronica was still standing by the stove and the sensation had nothing to do with the actual temperature of the room. It did however have everything to do with a vision which slammed into my head. “I can’t let you and Ruyia do that.”

The grin slipped. “We are not your vassals.”

“No, that’s not it,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “The thought of you and her going there alone, I have a…a bad feeling about it.”

“A feeling?” Yaria took an angry step forward. “What ruse is this? Have you decided to be competition, Reaper?”

“Not a feeling,” Maddalena said, much to everyone’s surprise. “A premonition. She,” the woman said while pointing at me, “flared with power. She is a seeress.”

All focus snapped back to me.

“Is this true?” Yaria demanded. “What did you see?”

Dangit. Dhalgrix had been out of earshot of everyone when he’d realized how I’d been managing to fight him off. I really hadn’t wanted this cat out of the bag.

Except I couldn’t let Yaria and Ruyia suffer to keep it secret.

“It was just a quick flash,” I said and for some reason kept staring at Maddalena while doing so. “Ruyia was screaming as both she and Yaria got torn apart by a terrible darkness. I didn’t see its source.” The more I thought about it though, the more my stomach sank with recognizable fear.

“You’ve had such foresight before?” Yaria asked. “Is it reliable?”

I thought of the vision of my black-winged Grigori attacking Danielle by the lake and how that had come true. I’d had other visions too after slipping between the physical and spirit. I’d seen the pyramids before going to Egypt, seen Cassius and the fight against his own spirit nearly leading to his suicide, seen assassins slip into Isaiah’s home.

Holy crap. I’d even watched Twitch, scars and all, tracking a falling light across an empty night sky.

A falling light. Me.

I met Yaria’s eyes. “So far, it seems so. I don’t have control of it. But many have turned out to be painfully true.”

She tsked. “If I hadn’t already witnessed you pull a miracle victory out from certain defeat I would pay you no mind. Very well, we will wait and not go alone. We’ll first assist in dealing with Captain Tuthos of the Hole.”

Exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding I managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“Who else besides Yaria gets to go?” Hank asked. It was clear he wanted to be there too yet I felt the party should be kept small.

I pointed out the first lucky winner. “Balus comes so the unwashed mayhem distributors out there don’t get antsy that I might be betraying their interests somehow.”

“Anyone else?” Hank leaned forward, raising a meaningful eyebrow.

“Just one more. And sorry Hank but it’s not you. I need someone more familiar with the going rates of high-powered mercs these days. Horatio, you’re up.”

Twitch also wasn’t happy about not being invited but he needed time to himself to recover from the earlier emotional overload. Heck, I needed the time too but yeah, that wasn’t going to happen just yet.

A hot sponge slapped against a thigh. Veronica, moving far more stealthily than I’d have expected her capable of, had knelt back behind me with sponge, bowl, and towel. “You need to finish washing, my lady.”

The gunk still coating my legs was hard to argue with. “Right, but let’s hurry it along. Where are my clothes?”

Yaria shrugged. “You’ll need new ones. Barry was wrapped in your jerkin and leggings, and the woman there,” she gestured at Maddalena, “has on what was over them.”

A sound of rattling metal came from a corner of the tent. Twitch held up Erglyk’s demonic copper-runed chestpiece. It had some new dents but otherwise was in one piece. The curves of the black and feathered steel had obviously been designed for a female form, albeit a large one.

“C’mon, Twitch. Be serious. That’ll be too big on me.”

He shook the armor as he readjusted for a one-handed grip allowing him to point at the runes with the other.

“He’s right,” Yaria said. “That armor is enchanted. You should wear it. Erglyk was only a hand taller than you.”

I frowned, not really liking the idea. “Whatever magic it has didn’t protect her much, did it.”

“It’s still intact,” she chuckled. “You think any normal armor could hold its shape after getting beat on by Dhalgrix?”

Okay, she had a point. “I don’t have anything to wear under it.”

Veronica dumped the sponge into the bowl which she then picked up before standing. “I can find you something that should suffice, my lady.”

That was the second time the blonde had addressed me formally. Unsure of the proper protocol I said, “Uh thanks, Veronica. That’d be a help.”

The woman scampered off to rummage through a bundle of clothes which lay behind the bed, presumably her own. Some of the outfits she pulled out were rather skimpy if not downright scandalous. It didn’t take her long to find a deep burgundy tunic which on me would be long enough to reach just below the metal skirt and thick enough to act as padding. She also, joy of joys, brought out a bra which amazingly fit after only a few adjustments and wiggles of its intended cargo.

Once into the tunic, her experienced fingers placed the armor over it all, tightening the straps to try and get that to fit too. But I’d been correct in that Erglyk was just, well, bigger. Her torso had been thicker, even if my cup-size may have rivaled her own.

In other words the armor hung too loosely upon my frame.

“This is not going to work,” I complained, looking down at how mismatched the armor’s skirt was to my waist and hips.

Maddalena, hovering nearby in case she could be of assistance, murmured under her breath and put a finger on the center of the breastplate where copper swirled with demonic power to blend with the stylized feathers of the thicker metal underneath.

The copper hummed in response, the vibrations making specific parts of my anatomy jiggle in spite of the bra. A certain area underneath the skirt also felt, uhm, interesting enough that I gasped in spite of myself.

“It likes you,” Maddalena commented wryly.

“Uhmm, gooood?” was all I could manage get out. The metal had grown warm, and oh my, the different pieces rippled as they pressed against me. Or more honestly, as they did their best to massage and yes, tease.

Dangit, it seemed to know just exactly where to squeeze too.

When my knees were about to give out and my face was likely as red as a fresh tomato, it finally calmed and let me catch my breath. “What,” I stammered, “the heck?”

Maddalena smiled mischievously. “This armor, while not soul-forged, is ancient. Treat it like a favored fetish and it will serve you well. She really likes you.”

“She?”

With a shrug the woman picked up a nearby polished shield and held it up as a mirror for me to see. “She is too elegant to be male, would you not agree?”

Whereas on Erglyk the armor had been thick and blocky, the shape it held now had shifted to something else entirely. The copper runes which formed a wide necklace against the obsidian in their slashing demonic style had also changed into this golden hue which better matched the bracers upon my wrists. The feathered steel now hugged my body, offering continuous protection while still making one thing quite clear: I was not only female, but decidedly so. There’d be no mistaking that fact while in this thing, unlike when under all the layers of cloth I’d gotten so used to hiding beneath.

Mind you, the curves of the chestpiece didn’t show off each boob individually and thus strikes wouldn’t be instantly guided towards the center, unlike what’s typically seen in male-fantasy RPG armor. Thank goodness for that at least.

Granted fighting to the death in the nude had just happened. Yet, in that weird way how some clothes can be sexier than sheer nakedness, the armor managed to accentuate everything. I’d still have been mistaken for a pin-up cosplay girl at any fantasy convention if it wasn’t for the buzzed red and gold atop my dome and the haunted seriousness of expression.

Hank whistled appreciation and Maddalena handed him the shield to hold while I continued to stare in shock.

“Quality gear,” mused Yaria. “Worth a small fortune. Wear it in pride earned by avenging its previous mistress. Which is likely why it has so clearly accepted you.”

Running a finger across the front the armor responded as if I’d been petting a cat, its purring vibrations spreading out from the contact promising to again reach sensitive spots.

I quickly yanked the finger away. Whoof. Demonic armor indeed.

Balus, still crouching quietly from where he’d been observing everything, rumbled a phrase of approval.

“Worthy is Commander.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Maddalena stepped again into view which startled me, this time she held out Erglyk’s translucent crystal longbow and the quiver filled with matching arrows. “The Goddess has blessed you. As her chosen seeress you should wield her favored weapon.”

The smooth curve of the bow looked like it had been forged by Tolkien’s elves, albeit not out of wood but some mystical crystal composite. I hesitated before taking it. “I’ve not used a bow since I was…little.” I’d almost said ‘since I was a boy’. Probably the last thing I wanted to explain to an obviously rather feminist witch. Yipes.

“Then I shall instruct you in its sacred ways.” The woman was obviously not going to take no for an answer, as if daring me to snub the goddess by refusing.

Fine. I took the weapon, noting that she’d already strung it.

Veronica strapped the quiver to my back and a leather cintus at my waist to hold the second soul-forged blade I’d won off the flier. Horatio and the others also affixed their warmer clothing into place.

“My lady,” Horatio said as he adjusted the thick furs around himself, “what are thy goals for this meeting with the Hole’s authorities? With such matters made clear we may better serve your interests.”

I stared at him. He was more likely wondering what the heck I was going to do with regards to the demon company, but honestly I’d not yet decided.

Not that I was going to tell him that. Clearing my throat I said, “Well, we have information they want regarding this attack which we should leverage to get more supplies. That’ll buy us time to figure out our next move. But there is one thing I absolutely do want.”

“Which is, my lady?”

I chewed an uncertain lip which was already swelling from the harsh attentions. “Something I’ll negotiate for. Just follow my lead.”

He bowed. “Of course, my lady.” He was smart enough not to push it.

So equipped, I went forth to play politics. Riding the tea cups would’ve been a lot more fun.

Heck, I’d have been happy just to have some tea.

 

Chapter 18 - Confirmation

 

I’d been right about the captain of the Hole. The demon initially had refused to believe a mortal (let alone a female one) could have defeated Dhalgrix. If I hadn’t taken Yaria and Balus along to the boundary of their powered shield where Captain Tuthos had come out to meet us the whole discussion would have gone nowhere. The eight-foot tall and broccoli-skinned praying mantis-like demon lost the scoffing attitude when the even taller Balus spoke up and proudly showed off the new symbol adorning his shoulder. His deep baritone actually made the ground shake.

“Mark like Holy Lightbringer’s. Resumed service to star is honor.”

Well that was disturbing news. I hadn’t consciously decided on the sigil’s shape, it just sorta happened. But I’d need to worry about the implications later. Including the one about Balus having once served Lucifer himself. Interesting.

Tuthos stared at Balus’ shoulder and at my hand for a long count before his mandibles twittered acceptance. Wearing Erglyk’s armor while holding her famed weapon may have helped too. Honestly it did make me feel more like a bad-ass when confronting yet another towering demon.

Nothing quite like dressing for success.

Solid grey bug-eyes then met mine across the glowing smear hanging in the air between us. “As their new leader,” said the mantis, his jaw clicking as it wasn’t really designed for coherent speech. “What are your intentions?”

Here we go. Negotiation time.

“Depends on you, Captain,” I said casually, totally pretending like I didn’t care about the outcome of our discussions. “As I understand it I am free to ignore the current contract as it led directly to the honor feud with Dhalgrix. What are you willing to offer in exchange for me putting it aside?”

“Ah hmm. You are reaper for Epsilon, by rights you still serve Duke Valgor.”

I was expecting this and had my counter ready. “Not hardly. When I gained the mark as a reaper for Erglyk I swore only to serve her. With her death that mark disappeared.”

Okay, I couldn’t really confirm that. Although the mark had indeed disappeared and it could have been at the same time as Erglyk’s demise. But just like with the star I had a sneaking suspicion my subconscious was influencing a lot more than I realized. Being out at the Edge and risking the use of angelic abilities in order to save Hank may have given it an out to wipe that itchy crud off the back of my hand.

Of course this guy didn’t need to know about that.

Tuthos clicked again. “Unprecedented. Still, our shield holds. Reinforcements arrive soon. Why should we offer anything?”

I grinned. “The crew out behind me is within hours of breaching the tube. Initial plan included damaging the passage to make it inoperable. That would cut off any reinforcements for you. Not proceeding with that plan has a lot of value to the Duke, does it not?”

“You dueled Dhalgrix out of loyalty to Erglyk but would still attack her - and your - former comrades?”

“New responsibilities, Tuthos. My preference however is to work something out and avoid that entirely. In fact, the Duke may want to contract for our services before this is done. If I’m not mistaken he’s going to need all the muscle he can muster.”

More clacking and the forelegs scraped against each other. Tuthos was in a bind and he knew it. It was time to push another piece on the board. Not waiting for his response I said, “We can discuss that at length later. You’ve captured Charles, right? Sorry, Xargglxesh. I’ve always called him Charles. He still alive?”

Tuthos took a suspicious step back despite being behind the shield. “You worry about the traitor?”

“Not hardly,” I said. “I worry about the whole setup here. That fresh demon-spawn professes innocence, right? Doesn’t remember what the heck he actually did as if under a spell?”

“My sorcerer adjunct found no such traces of compulsion upon him. He lies and the modified scanning core found in his possession is proof. He shall be tortured for information before execution upon arrival of official documents.”

Guess it wasn’t so easy to torment and then kill the son of the Duke’s current concubine. That must have required signatures from further up the food chain. Which meant I still had an opportunity. “Your sorcerer may not know what to look for.”

“And you do?” His credulity regarding me was obviously stretching thin.

I had to sweeten the pot. “How’s this for an intermediate proposal. You get me in to see Xargglxesh and I’ll tell you who hired Dhalgrix. That is something your Duke absolutely wants to know.”

Yaria shifted her weight and threw me an unhappy look. She still wanted to be first to act on that information. Fortunately she stayed quiet and didn’t try to sell the info herself.

Mandibles swept back and forth as a clear negative. Becoming more agitated Tuthos snapped, “If you are involved you could wish to assassinate him to protect your conspirators! Or pass him instructions. Or even kill him out of revenge. Not acceptable.”

“Blindfold him,” I countered. “And fill his ears with cotton. I don’t need to speak with the little turd, I just want to inspect him. Because if I’m right? You need me to. Let me and Yaria in. She can hold my weapons while I take a look. Surround the jerk with as many guards as you want, I don’t care.”

“What good would guards be against one who destroyed such as Dhalgrix? Too risky!”

Crap. “Hey Yaria,” I said. “Is Tuthos here trustworthy? Will he keep his end of a bargain if paid upfront?”

Somehow Tuthos’ bug eyes got bigger. I didn’t know insectoid eyeballs could do that.

Yaria though was considering. “He’s a cheapskate for sure,” she drawled. “But he sticks to his word. Especially if witnessed.”

Before Tuthos could object to us daring to question his honor I plowed ahead. “Good. Captain Tuthos, agree to letting me see Xargglxesh and I’ll tell you who hired Dhalgrix right here and now. If you don’t agree the information was more than worth such an exchange we’ll just get back to negotiating regarding my boys back there itching to do what they do best. That work for you?”

There. Carrot meet stick.

Tuthos glared, forelegs rubbing faster. But Yaria’s grumbling mutter of “It’s worth a lot more than that” got a nod out of him. “No communication between you and the prisoner as stated.”

“That’s the idea.”

The mantis stared up at Balus whose single eye glared right back from behind his grimacing helm. I’m sure Tuthos was playing through his head just what it would look like should Balus alone were to get loose inside the keep.

Tuthos was outclassed and knew it.

“Agreed,” he finally said.

“Great!” I smiled. Hey, it was a friendly smile, I swear! “Now remember - and this is important - you cannot tell Xargglxesh someone is inspecting him. Don’t let him know I’m even alive. Make it look like you’re moving him from one cell to another or something. He can’t suspect a damn thing.”

“Very well. Now tell me who is behind these attacks!”

Horatio caught my eye, he was silently shaking his head like I hadn’t gotten a good enough deal.

Little did he know that I’d gotten exactly what I wanted.

“Dhalgrix,” I said slowly to make sure Tuthos heard me correctly, “was hired by a demon named Ithx, Vizier to Duke Juxtyle.”

Tuthos darn near choked. “Juxtyle! Impossible! He and our beloved Duke have been staunch allies for thousands of cycles!”

Beloved? Seriously? I suppressed a guffaw. “Then either that has changed,” I said, “or Ithx is playing his own game. Horatio and Balus here were witness and can confirm. Now what say you, Captain? I bet Duke Valgor would highly value what you were just told.”

Tuthos was still reeling as he ran through the consequences. “If Juxtyle has betrayed us then our farms on the border are under threat!”

“Tuthos!” I shouted to get his attention again. “Time is of the essence! We good here? If so, take me and Yaria to see Xargglxesh and do it now!”

One slender foreleg gestured at a guard. “Give them keys.”

The guard - imagine a bear with a velociraptor’s head - opened a pouch on its belt and pulled out a pair of golden stones. They weren’t souls but were definitely enchanted. With a toss the stones landed at my and Yaria’s feet having passed right through the multi-colored forcefield.

Tuthos clicked. “Pick those up and follow me.”

Yaria grabbed hers and waited on me to get mine. Pretty sure she wanted me to be the first through to test if it was safe and not some kind of double-cross.

“Balus, Horatio - stay here,” I told them as I picked up the small stone no larger than a fingertip. “If you guys don’t hear from me within an hour, proceed to take the base.”

“Compliance.”

Horatio opened his mouth to say something but reconsidered and just nodded.

Going through the barrier was indeed safe though my new armor tingled oddly as I did so. Not unpleasantly mind you. Quite the opposite actually.

A girl could get used to that. Certainly beat having issues with chaffing.

Once we both were in they led us past their steel barricade and into a large cavern which served as the main entrance into the base. The walls and corridors featured the all-too-recognizable sconces of crystal light. If it wasn’t for the differences in layout I could have sworn we were back at Outpost Epsilon with being only a visit with Yipe away from tucking into whatever concoction Cookie had crafted for the day’s meal.

Damn. At least Cookie was secure back at the tent with Ruyia. The Lilim would likely keep him as their rightful capture so he should be safe for now. Even if I screwed this up.

Reaching a wide corridor Tuthos halted our little party. “Your weapons. Give them to the Lilim.”

I did so. Bow, quiver, and the short sword with its oh-so-nasty aura. Yaria took a couple steps back, making it clear she wouldn’t return them until the conclusion of the negotiated sequence.

Tuthos nodded and turned to the liveried demon who had done its best to be like the overgrown insect’s shadow. Though unlike a shadow the guy scurried off to do Tuthos’ bidding.

It didn’t take long for the sound of many booted feet and the shuffling steps of ankles restricted by shackles to echo down the corridor. Tuthos motioned for me to hug one wall and then took a position within striking distance at my side.

Charles (yeah, yeah - Xargglxesh) came into view, blue bowl cut and singular horn doing their best parody of a demonic Alfalfa. All his expensive fashion had been stripped away leaving him only in a pair of white breeches under a protruding stomach. Thick strips of cloth also bound eyes and ears, and from his blubbering sobs it was clear Charles thought he was being led to his execution.

“I’ve told you all I know!” he whimpered. “They killed everyone at Epsilon and I fled to here - you have to believe me!”

I mentally cursed. I’d left behind my goggles out of tiredness or just plain stupidity. Probably the latter but there was nothing for it now. Taking a deep breath I flipped the mental switch to peer directly into spirit knowing my eyes were about to light up. Not as high-beams like they used to do, mind you, but they still would emit a noticeable brightness when pushed.

As Charles pathetically shuffled by their glow washed over him. If he hadn’t been blindfolded I’m sure he would have stared like the hapless deer he truly was.

But I saw it. What I’d been most scared to see after that brief blip of danger-sense regarding Yaria and Ruyia earlier.

I must have gone pale because Yaria started to move forward before catching herself, the motion having been caught by the guards and Tuthos whose spike-lined leg twitched with a readiness to sweep my head from the attached shoulders.

Or at the very least impale and mash the brain within to a pulp.

I didn’t exhale or dare move until the entire prisoner party had rounded the corner out of view. At which point my back slid down the wall until I hit the floor with a loud metal clunk from my armored buttcheeks.

Tuthos stood over me. “What magic was that?” he demanded. “What did you see?”

I looked up at the fierce mantis demon realizing he barely registered as a threat in comparison. “Send the guards away, Tuthos. You can’t have them hearing this.”

“Are you insane?”

“DO IT!” My nerves must’ve been shot because with the shout flares poured out of Camael’s bracers to envelope wrists with their reddish flames.

In my defense it had been a really really long day.

As Tuthos reared back to strike Yaria moved faster, shoving the longbow between his razor leg and my neck. “Tuthos! Listen to her! If she wanted you dead it’d have already happened.”

For an insectoid face it still held a lot of expression. Scared now, Tuthos backed up but also commanded his men to get out of there. They hesitated to abandon their Captain (or more likely didn’t want to let Tuthos know that truthfully they very much wanted to get away from the crazy woman whose arms were on fire) but with a second shout from him they took off.

Kneeling down, Yaria met my panicked stare with a steely one of her own. “What is it, Jordan? What’s spooked you?”

“We’re screwed,” I said in a small voice. “He’s here. The bastard is here.”

“Who?”

I didn’t want to say his name, as if saying it would make it true. But it was. The spidersilk-thin line of corrupted inky blackness that trailed off behind poor Charles to his unknown master made it painfully obvious. I’d seen it in full power within my hunter, my Tsáyidiel, before cleansing him of its horrid blight with a strength of light I could no longer achieve. I’d seen it within Private Orlando Jenson before the monster had reached through Whateley’s wards to snuff out the private’s life as easy as pinching a candleflame just to make a point.

It was undeniable. With a whisper I gave name to my fear.

“Azazel.”

 

Chapter 19 - Test

 

Tuthos pulled us both to a conference room with the intention to grill me further, but one of his soldiers interrupted with an announcement that the lift had arrived as soon as we got there. The mantis-demon scurried off to inspect his reinforcements, leaving me and Yaria alone in a small side-cave with a plain wooden table and matching chairs.

After being guided by Yaria into the room I’d collapsed into one of the crude chairs and Yaria pulled another closer.

“Talk to me, woman. Who is Azazel?”

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Who was he? Only the terror who’d spread dark chaos through the Nephelim as part of his plan to defeat the Heavenly Host. Only the abomination who had sent his corrupted and mind-controlled minions - both angelic and mortal - to assassinate first me and later my niece, with our survival more a matter of luck than anything.

I had Aradia’s memories of her and Camael’s heavenly warriors assaulting Azazel’s stronghold. It was in that battle that Aradia had burned out her own spirit by shining enough light to counter the fallen Grigori’s shadow. I - as Aradia - had sacrificed myself to defeat the evil, but Azrael, Camael, and his Powers had fought at my side.

Even then - as powerful as they were - they couldn’t destroy the twisted Grigori. Instead Azazel had been sealed away, bound and chained under the Earth for thousands of years. With me here in Hell, having fallen so far from the light and without Aradia’s heavenly allies, what chance could I possibly have against such corruption?

Though he had fallen here too. Soren, who must have again manifested as Camael, had shattered the second seal and defeated Azazel deep within the mountains of Syria, triggering an earthquake which had demolished buildings across the Middle East. Soren’s note to me stated that Azazel had been neutralized and wouldn’t cause me any more grief. I’d thought the menace dead, but Camael hadn’t slain the fallen angel. Apparently he’d only banished him to Hell.

Little did Soren know that I’d soon be tossed down the same road.

That brought up an important point, one which when latched onto at least stopped my panicked breathing. Unless Azazel had been severely weakened somehow - maybe just from being locked up all those years - there’s no way Camael could have tossed him to Hell without assistance. It hadn’t been possible during the Grigori and Nephelim war even with the squad of Powers and Aradia’s final gift of light. Which meant that just like I was weakened, so was Azazel.

The twenty-million denarii question was by how much.

Yaria, disgusted by the lack of response, pulled back a hand as if to slap me silly.

“No, wait!” I threw an arm up to block. “There’s no need.”

She regarded me with suspicion. “Even when marching out to fight Dhalgrix did you not show such fear.” Her hand lowered.

I exhaled slowly. “That’s because Dhalgrix was just a demon. Azazel’s not. He’s a Grigori, co-leader and prince of their number who once raised a force with which to corrupt the Earth and challenge Heaven.”

Frowning, she crossed her arms, the leather of her outfit giving a barely audible creak. “I’ve not heard of him.”

“That’s because he was trapped on Earth and only recently punted to Hell.”

“And you know this how?”

Here I needed to tread carefully. “Three of the Seals of Revelations - you know, from the Bible - had been broken before I died. I was part of a group trying to deal with the repercussions. Azazel’s prison was the second of the Seals. It was shattered by Camael who must’ve then kicked Azazel down the well to here.”

“Camael. Heaven’s butcher.” Dark eyebrows raised dubiously.

“Yeah, him. Look, dealing with that crap is what got me killed. It’s a mess. There are those that want the seals to break and those who will do anything to stop them.”

“You should tell this to my father. He’d know what you’re talking about.”

Tuthos strode in before I could respond and just stared at us without saying anything, forelegs twitching with clear agitation.

“What gives, Captain?” I asked. “Something happen?”

He clicked a couple times. “Tell me of this ‘Azazel’ you spoke of in the corridor. An agent of Ithx?”

I did my best not to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the idea. Tuthos wouldn’t have appreciated the humor. “No. Azazel is much worse and is likely using Ithx just like he used your prisoner. He’s a fallen angel, a corrupted Grigori only recently cast into the Pit.”

That confused the poor captain. “The Fallen do not interfere in demonic affairs.”

“According to my father,” Yaria interjected, “that is not always the case.”

I rubbed at exhausted eyes. “The angels rule over these domains but at a distance, right? With a former archangel calling the shots for each one. Pretty much everyone since I’ve gotten here agrees to that much. But Azazel’s ambitions know no limits, he’ll want his own place to rule. He’s not a joiner, rather he’s a manipulator who uses others at a distance to do his bidding. In that respect he’s a lot like most demons.” Of course that was the only way he could operate when imprisoned. However it also matched with how he operated during the war according to my memories as Aradia. “Whoever runs this Rock needs to be told.”

“Then I shall get a confession from Xargglxesh which shall be brought to the Duke.”

“You can’t do that. Charles will die first.”

The mantis-demon flexed his spiked limbs. “Our torturer is skilled. This will not happen.”

“You don’t get it,” I told him. “Azazel has a line on him. You start questioning Charles about Azazel’s existence and Azazel will realize that you know he’s behind this. First thing he’ll do is terminate Charles to cut the link. You’ll learn nothing and that bastard will make it his mission to find out how much else you know and also how. Charles won’t know anything of value anyway, he’s a minor pawn. His memories are already wiped.”

“Her analysis would be correct,” Yaria said. “If what she says is true.”

I gawked at her. “You don’t believe me?”

The cold and calculating master fighter regarded me. “I like you. And I owe you a debt of honor. But you want us to accept something without any proof that we can see. Neither Tuthos’ sorcerer nor myself saw this link you claim connects a simpering demonling to a fallen angel. How are you able to see what we cannot? From what have you derived such power, mortal?”

It is said that the best lies are cloaked with incomplete truths, and while the fae are masters of this sort of deception there’s one other whose ability with such obfuscation was legendary.

Lucifer.

With my reply I may have proved myself a worthy successor. He was Aradia’s father after all. And I had inherited her spirit.

Though doing so left me feeling horribly dirty inside.

“Maddalena is right,” I told her. “I’m like a seer. Perception of spirit is a main talent. It’s what let me see Dhalgrix’s true name and use it against him, and what let me see the danger of the bomb which stole my life away. It wasn’t a normal explosive. That thing detonated with a massive amount of necromantic energy which would have wiped out countless innocents. Somehow in the moment of death I absorbed a good chunk of that power before falling to here. Since then I’ve learned how to use it.”

Whether cowardice or wisdom, I wasn’t ready yet to reveal my true nature - even to erstwhile allies.

Yaria was not yet satisfied. “You also warned me from going directly after Ithx after learning he was the contractor of Dhalgrix’s force. Would Ithx suffer the same fate as Xargglxesh if questioned?”

I worried at the protesting lip. “How strong is Ithx? He might be harder to kill depending on how deep Azazel’s gotten into his head. And he’d know a lot more of the details of Azazel’s plans, including if whether Duke Juxtyle is also compromised.”

“As vizier to a Duke,” Tuthos said, “Ithx would not be a weakling.”

I tried to think it through. “In the premonition I only saw you and Ruyia, you two were alone. We should send a force with you and do it quickly to change that equation. Take the best fliers from the mercs and get Tuthos to send along his own just not in Valgor’s colors. If Ithx is still in the Spires he’ll be watching remotely somehow and if he realizes Dhalgrix isn’t taking the Hole like was planned he’ll vanish.” Looking to Tuthos I added, “Actually the best way to pull this off is to make it look like the mercs did take the Hole. If you dropped the shield and they all ran inside then, after say a few more minutes with smoke coming out of a few places, a bunch of fliers rushing to Ithx’s position would seem more like a report of success and demand for completion of payment. With backup to help guarantee delivery.”

The mantis-demon stiffened. “Absurd. This could all be a ruse to get us to drop our defenses.”

I shrugged. “You’ve got your reinforcements now, right? So lock us into that warehouse area we walked through. And then keep me as a hostage or something up here.”

Yaria was startled. “You don’t want to go after Ithx yourself?”

Leaning back in the chair I let the tiredness wash over my face. “Of course I do. But I’ve got to face reality here. I’m spent. It took a lot out of me to take down Dhalgrix and I’m freaking exhausted. Me going would just put the rest at risk. If time wasn’t of the essence I’d have the Captain here wait until I’d had a long nap. Maybe two.”

Folded insect wings twitched against Tuthos’ back. “I could only agree to this if we establish a contract with your mercenaries. What are your terms for support in capturing Ithx?”

I could see where he was going with this. If we were under contract then my demons would be obliged to do as I said - at least until I had been knocked off. And if Tuthos kept me as a ‘guest’ like I’d suggested all isolated from the mercs, there’d be less chance of that happening. “For this one engagement, considering I’d be bringing my force into your halls, how about this: feed the stinky buggers. If they’re busy eating then they’ll be too distracted to look for other trouble.”

“And they are to depart as soon as the mission is complete,” insisted Tuthos. “Unless we agree to a new contract for their continued services.”

That sounded promising. “Deal.”

Yaria was on her feet. “Let me be clear on this: myself and Ruyia lead. And we’ll expect a full third share of the reward from Duke Valgor for Ithx’s capture.”

“Fine with me.” I still didn’t like the idea of anyone going after Ithx but we had to try. With the ruse they had a chance to take him by surprise if they were fast enough.

Her eagerness collided with more intelligent caution. “What are the odds that this fallen could be there as well?”

I thought about it. “I would have to say low. It’s too exposed. If he takes any direct action himself the ones running this realm would notice. He’ll be playing puppet-master only is my bet. But don’t underestimate his ability to work through those puppets.”

That satisfied her. Turning to Tuthos, she said, “Are the terms acceptable?”

Tuthos hesitated, but after clicking his mandibles a few more times agreed. “They are. We will be honored to fight alongside the legendary Lilim Twins.”

That earned him Yaria’s sinisterly sharp-toothed smile. “Excellent. C’mon Jordan, let’s go tell your whelps the good news and feed them.”

Nodding, I got up to follow Tuthos out with Yaria guarding my behind.

I hadn’t been entirely honest about why I wouldn’t go with them for the hunt for Ithx. Yes I was shredded, that was certainly true. The thought of a hot meal and a moment’s peace sounded amazing. The real concern was if I was in on the confrontation with Ithx then Azazel would get a direct look at me and know who I was. Keeping my existence here a secret from him sounded like the wiser plan.

I mean, surely I wasn’t just being a chicken.

Right?

Speaking of trying to keep secrets, I paused at the barricade.

“Hey Tuthos? I just thought of something.”

The mantis-demon turned its insect head to look back at me. “What now?”

“We can’t just have these guys walk in here all casual. To maintain the cover we’ll need to charge in.” I looked around the open cavern we were standing in, noting that all the passages had doors. “How about you close it off and get your folks out of this space. I’ll tell the troops to run in but to not even try to open any doors as they’re warded and to wait for me to clear them.”

“You believe there could be a spy for Ithx amongst your fighters?”

“Either that or they’re watching from a distance and ready to signal back to him, just like you hired the Lilim to do for you.”

He considered. “Your company may attempt to bash down the doors regardless. Fighters are not known to heed warnings once in a battle-frenzy.”

I grinned. “I’m going to tell ‘em your doors are all warded like mine was back at Epsilon. It blew apart all their sorcerers. They’ll listen.”

“Impressive.”

“In fact, why don’t we put on a little show.”

When I told him what I had in mind he was initially skeptical but Yaria laughed. “Dramatic flair much, woman?”

I shrugged. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll have all the doors be magically convincing to this lot. Won’t do much more than sparkle if opened though.”

Tuthos reluctantly agreed and I got busy.

Operation Fake Assault was born.

 

~o~O~o~

 

It took a bit longer than I’d thought to get everything set up, and even longer still to get the troops prepped and in position. In the meantime I had to reassure Hank and Horatio that I was fine. No really, peachy-keen. Yep.

Not that either believed me. I guess practically falling asleep on one’s feet is worrisome to folks who think you’re about to lead an actual battle. Go figure. Twitch hadn’t said anything (of course) but he’d taken up a spot off one shoulder like an overly-protective guardian.

Which was oddly comforting.

After telling him the plan Balus had gotten the troops lined up in front of the energy shield protecting the Hole. The best warriors who could fly and a few selected others were to remain outside and guard our supplies but the bulk were armored up and eager for a fight.

Hopefully not too eager. Watching the maliced frothing at their various ill-shaped mouths Tuthos may have had a point regarding them losing control and running amok. Guess we were going to find out who was right really soon.

At my request Horatio had dug up an old bronze Spartan-style helmet for me to wear which would at least keep my face covered. It was only a tad too snug on my head due to the goggles underneath, but with those on I’d been able to covertly scan the troops for traces of black webbing like seen on Charles. I was being paranoid. However either everyone was clean or I was too tired to see clearly.

Thus I found myself in front of a horde of demons broadcasting not just their rising bloodlust but also a stench I feared would never get out of my sinuses.

“Alright you jerkwads!” I yelled, trying to channel all the rude army sergeants I’d seen in the movies. “As you may - or may not - be aware, I just visited the idiots behind this shield. They foolishly refused my demands and frankly they’ve pissed me off!”

A lot of the demons gave each other side glances. Yeah I got it, I was new. They’d seen me take down their Commander and threaten them through our shared link, but what else could I do?

It was time to show them. Raising Erglyk’s bow over my head I let the purplish-black necromantic energies envelop the weapon. The power pulsed outward across the throng, the kind of resonance which if used differently could probably nourish a demon for cycles. The headache instantly got a lot worse from the concentration required to keep that power from exploding but it proved worth the effort.

I now had their full attention.

Taking a breath to steady myself I again tossed my voice at the throng. “I learned a few things while in there so listen up! The digging operation Dhalgrix commanded was a fool’s errand! Their shield extends down the tube as well.”

No one likes digging a hole for no good reason.

I continued shouting at them, throat becoming raw from the day’s abuse. “On the inside they’ve also warded every damn door with the same kind of protection I used to take out Dhalgrix’s sorcerers back at Epsilon!” That yielded some grumbling. To head off any doubt I added, “I was one of their reapers. Where do you think I learned how to do it?”

So far so good. Enough of them bought it that there was a fair amount of nervous glances back and forth in the ranks by those now wondering whether attacking the Hole was ever a good idea. Charging into explosive traps is never fun.

“But fear not!” I pulsed the energies again, letting them feel it. “Just as I know how to put such things up, I will take them down one by one!”

That actually earned a few cheers, taking me by surprise. Twitch had to nudge me to keep going.

I lowered the bow. “What this means is when we get in there - which we’re about to do! - for all closed doors you damn well wait for me to clear them before even thinking of trying to turn their knobs. Don’t touch, whether you think it’s warded or not! The first demon who touches a door without my permission is going to wish to be unmade before I’m done with them. In fact, this applies to anyone who damages anything unnecessarily and ruins potential loot! Got it?”

A hundred demonic stares blinked at me.

“I said, GOT IT? Or shall I pick one of you lot to demonstrate upon first!”

That worked. The horde snarled and shouted, “Yes, Commander!”

“I can’t hear you!” Yelling that in such situations is obligatory even if cliche, right?

“YES COMMANDER!”

That’ll do.

“Stand ready!” Slotting a crystal arrow into the bow, I sent the manifested power across the shaft and turned to face the shield still glowing like a Northern aurora had flowed down from the sky. It really was quite pretty when you stopped to look at it. Here in a place with no stars or sun the shifting bright colors were downright hypnotic. While the troops had been forming up I’d spent most of the time studying it and had to smack my cheeks a couple times to regain focus. Then Horatio had handed me the helm and with that on I had to resort instead to biting fingers. Not hard enough to break the skin, dangit, I’m not that much of a masochist.

As I didn’t fully trust Tuthos I aimed the arrow at a weakpoint in the shield’s pattern and, once I thought tired hands were steady enough, I let it fly.

Now I’d seen Erglyk use the bow before. Her shots always went true and had far more punch than the pull strength should account for, hitting targets as if she’d fired a Browning .50 caliber. But I wasn’t expecting what it’d do when supercharged.

Instead of a bowstring twang the whole area echoed with the cracking doom of a tank firing its main gun. The already glowing arrow launched at supersonic speed to punch directly on target like a depleted uranium round, the necromantic power exploding and cascading outward from the impact to tear a hole big enough for even Balus to march on through.

Either Tuthos had reconsidered our deal or the arrow’s speed had caught his casters by surprise. There was a full second delay before the entire shield shut down.

I didn’t hesitate and notched a second arrow. Filling it with yet more power while ignoring the drum circle playing against the insides of my head, the arrow blew the barricade door right off its thick steel hinges.

As well as part of the wall to which it’d been attached.

Okay, so that wasn’t in the plan. I’d owe Tuthos a new door. But this, fake as it may be, was the first battle with me in charge of this monstrous lot.

I needed to make a solid impression.

“CHARGE!” I screamed and ran at the breached wall full tilt like a lunatic valkyrie eager to get to the kegs before the rest of the Asgardians could drink it all.

I managed to stay in front but the stampede from Hell followed right behind my booted heels. As we burst through the opening and into the cavern I pulled up, another arrow notched and ready in case Tuthos had any ideas of double-crossing us. His guards however were not present as we’d agreed.

“Take positions around the hall!” I commanded. “Guard the doors but DO NOT TOUCH THEM!”

Minding my previous threats regarding damage, the horde fanned out past the rows of tables and benches which lined the great hall in wait for them. Each table was laden with platters covered with grilled hunks of meat, freshly baked rolls, and pots of steaming vegetables. Wooden plates were piled at each end ready to be grabbed and filled. Tuthos’ cooks had obviously gotten busy even while I was going door to door and wiggling fingers at them.

Ignoring the bounty, Balus strode to the middle of the room, tentacles wielding a towering sword, a massive mace, and a pair of throwing axes which would’ve been normal size to anyone else.

He was just that big.

“Commander Test. Success!” Balus proclaimed. “Sit!” He then dropped his weapons to the floor and plonked himself onto an entire bench, removing his helmet so he could eat.

Balus had been the only demon I’d let in on the real plan.

As his elucidation merely served to baffle the mob I hopped onto a table to stand as tall as possible.

“Good! Well done!” I called out to them. “You all passed. I don’t need to destroy anyone today. Everyone take a seat! Truth is that the Hole has entered into a short contract with us against those that hired Dhalgrix for the screwed up mis-adventure that brought you all here. More contracts are likely to follow. While those details are worked out, they’re feeding us! Enjoy!”

To say that this confused the heck of them would be an understatement. Before any could get angry about it and do something stupid Balus’s voice boomed across the hall again.

“Down weapons! Eat! NOW!”

His directness was clearly more effective than my explanations. They too put down their weapons and prepared to eat. Which is when an unforeseen difficulty kicked in.

Demons, amped for battle, do not make for elegant customers at a buffet.

Shoving, snarling, grabbing, and biting ensued. One table knocked over, spilling the precious foodstuffs all over the floor and also the feet of the demons at the next row who naturally took offense.

At least they’d already dropped all their sharp pointy things. Though that did give those with claws and fangs an advantage, at least until enough blood was drawn that all the swords and axes would find themselves wielded once again.

Balus, sitting at his own table and monopolizing the entire selection thereon, ignored the rising mayhem to tuck in to his waiting meal.

God dammit.

How the heck was I supposed to corral a whole room full of blithering idiot demons acting like junior high kids all jacked up on steroids?

Only one idea came to mind. After digging fingernails into the mark upon my palm I gave it to them.

Pain.

Reaching out through the connection which had bound them all I cheated and whispered into their spirits a word in a language they would never understand. Tendrils of fiery intent slipped through the web between us - not to burn their skin but instead to excite the pain receptors in each and every nerve they possessed.

The effect was instantaneous.

An entire room of rowdy demons collapsed to the floor, jaws slack and eyes bugging out. Balus was the only demon spared.

Still standing on the table by a far wall I raised my fist which again burned with Camael’s flames.

“It is impolite,” I growled across the enforced silence, “to treat our host’s hospitality with such a lack of manners.” Sending another pulsed command the pain stimulus ceased, leaving their skin tingling as their central nervous systems slowly regained control. Gurgles and moans flooded the room.

“I will say this only once, so listen well.” I failed to hold back the snarl edging out each and every syllable. “Eating a meal with one’s comrades is sacred. These are your brothers-in-arms. They fight beside you on the field of battle, guarding you as you guard them. If you cannot curb your own greed and hunger to offer the respect such a bond deserves then you are not worthy of being under my command. I will not witness such a cowardly display again.”

While the hardier ones tried to sit up, most stayed still and stared about. With fear.

“Now clean up this mess,” I ordered. “Eat your meal. And quietly await my return.”

Balus’ singular eye met my gaze and he nodded once. The huge beast of a demon looked thoughtful.

Jumping off the table I motioned for Twitch to follow to the door Tuthos should be behind. If Twitch had been shocked by what I’d just done he wasn’t showing it. But he always did have a great (and silent) poker face.

I rapped on the door twice. With a creak it opened, triggering only a few sparks to dance over the wood.

Behind the door Tuthos indeed was standing. Staring over my head at the room full of warriors slowly rising to their feet and rubbing limbs, Tuthos asked, “Are things alright?”

Pushing past him I spoke with forced lightness. “Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” As the door shut behind us I noticed that he had only the original set of guards who had escorted me and Yaria earlier at his side. “Where’s your reinforcements?” I asked. He was supposed to have posted more soldiers at every exit.

Spiked legs twitched against each other. “There aren’t any,” Tuthos admitted, his large head bowing low. “Duke Juxtyle’s forces have invaded Valgor’s lands. We were commanded to hold position or retreat down the Tube and scuttle it as we go.”

I stopped walking to stare open jawed at him. If he had done that he would have doomed the other outposts to starvation and destruction.

“Come, Commander,” he said with a lot more respect than earlier. “The fires are lit above to create smoke, it is time to signal your fliers to head to the Spires. Dhalgrix already took down those amongst us here who enjoyed the freedom of the air, excepting only myself. The Lilim and your forces will need to be enough.”

I didn’t like that but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. As we followed Tuthos down the corridor the implications hit me. Without reinforcements and with my ability to punch through their shield, my troop could have taken this place any time we had wanted. And Tuthos knew it.

Our prices for service just doubled. Heck, maybe tripled.

Horatio would be pleased.

We climbed up a couple stories and from a balcony overlooking all the tents encamped outside I waved a flag with Dhalgrix’s triangle symbol. This was the agreed upon signal to Yaria to take the fliers and go pick up her sister before heading to the Spires where, with any luck, we might capture a more meaningful chess-piece than poor Charles.

The designated squad launched with Yaria in front of the flock as her humongous harpy self. She swooped over the balcony, eyes looking for the additional units from the Hole.

“They haven’t got any!” I called up to her. “You’ll have to take just those! Means a two-way split!”

With a disgusted (and yet mighty) screech she turned and led the aerial squad into the darkness beyond the fort and camp’s circle of dim illumination.

After they’d disappeared Tuthos guided Twitch and I further back down to a smaller and cozier room where a pair of luxurious arm chairs sat across from each other with a small table set in between.

A table laden with steaming soup, bread, and fine porcelain bowls in which to hold the spice-adorned almost-feast.

How Tuthos with his insect-like body managed to sit comfortably in his chair is still a mystery. I took the other one (after removing helmet and goggles), while Twitch sat on the carpeted floor.

After a few spoonfuls of not-carrots, kinda-onions, and chunks of meat whose origin I suspected rhymed with ‘traxh’, I handed the soup to Twitch so he could have some too. I never did get the bowl back from him. Exhaustion had caught up in full and the ol’ eyelids, stubborn as they were, failed to stay open.

Unfortunately peaceful slumber again decided to hide under an entirely different rock.

 

Chapter 20 - Decision

 

All of Heaven’s attention was fixated upon the roaring conflict streaking past high above the gleaming city. Many winged inhabitants wept crystalline tears at the terrible majesty and horrific beauty as two of their mightiest waged battle across the sky.

The Light against the Defender, unstoppable intent clashing against immovable will.

Most were unable to perceive the full measure of the struggle, catching only glimpses of Lucifer and Michael as fragments of time caught by a strobe light of infinite proportions. Six wings of burning fire scorched the fabric of Heaven itself in its wake, lances of power lashing out to strike the unyielding gold of the shield of shields wielded by an arm clad in the armor of purest faith. Shining sword deflected brilliant spear to set all space above afire with their unfathomable passion and resolve.

Concussion after concussion rolled over towers swaying like reeds in a tempest, only their divine construction granting them the capacity to bend without snapping into shards by the blasts deafening all below. Clouds of ions solidified, flashed, and boiled away, stars were birthed, burned, and shattered with each clash, as the reality of the home of the Bene Elohim twisted and tore.

Gabriel held tightly still to the collapsed Beliel. At her side Raphael busily ignored the madness without to focus on that which tried to destroy his brother from within. Gabriel, reeling from the city’s agonized groan felt through knees touching its faultless marble, cried out at sensing an even greater danger.

“Raphael! Stay with Beliel!” So saying, feathers of the purest of whites launched her away.

Full intent bent towards saving his brother’s existence, Raphael gave no answer for he had neither heard nor noticed her departure.

With wings striving hard through the typhoon lashing outward from the battle’s center, Gabriel flew towards the nexus of the conflagration hanging as a sword of doom over the city and all those she so loved.

The two warriors’ conflict strained at the pattern from which the city had been forged. To her horror faultlines fractured through the base structure as rumblings below the fundament echoed the cracking thunder from above.

To Gabriel, she who came into existence when the vision of Heaven itself was born, the damage stretched across her chest like a thousand needles threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.

She tried to reach her fighting brothers, tried to shout at them to stop, but neither combatant responded to her pleading.

And so she tumbled from the sky, wings and body bouncing from thunderhead to thunderhead within the growing cataclysm, a lost kite struggling against the grip of a hurricane.

An angel with wings of night caught her as she fell, one strong arm wrapping around her waist to hold her fixed against his robe. A long slender blade affixed to a black staff swept through each rolling wave cascading forth from that center, the scythe splitting the shockwaves that they may pass safely between them.

“Azrael,” she cried, ruby tears spilling down across transcendent beauty. “You have to stop them. They rip apart the unity - our beloved dream is dying and I cannot hold against their fury!”

The Archangel of Judgment remained silent. Within he screamed to the Most High, shouting the need for intervention and a Judgment to settle this debate once and for all. Yet no answer had come.

Until words then escaped his lips, passing through from the Source of All.

“This Is Not The Hour.”

Hearing this Gabriel gaped at he who held her. “How can that be? Is our home, defended at the cost of so many, to now end? Are we to be cast askew into incoherence amongst the stray winds of random chance?”

Stunned into silence himself by the channeled proclamation, Azrael could voice no reply.

With a shudder of resolution she placed a hand over her heart. “Even should it take my last heartbeat, this dream must not die.” A small dagger of emerald and gold appeared within her fingers, plunged once into her chest, and ripped outward to cast her heartsblood across the city. The crimson fountain that followed spread forth as a net with which to pull the fraying tapestry of Heaven together, to reinforce the words from which its reality had been forged.

Azrael, stoic in all matters since taking on the mantle of Judgment, beheld Gabriel’s offered sacrifice.

This was not one his own heart could abide.

Dark wings snapped outward to smother horizon to horizon as the scythe cleaved the sky, slicing the gathered tempest itself in twain.

“ENOUGH!” Azrael shouted as the two combatants flickered into view opposite the other, momentarily separated by the surge of will flowing forth from the black robed angel. “Look what your conflict has wrought! Look upon the price!”

Michael, his once immaculate shield now dented and torn alongside armor cleaved and burned, had eyes only for his opponent. No distractions allowed or his enemy’s advantage would be complete, for they fought within the realms of all splintered possibilities. To battle the Light and the perception of all which its harmony granted required a totality of attention to provide no exploitable weakness. Already too many wounds bled free from behind armor whose protection was no longer entirely intact due to mere hints of imprecision.

Whereas his opponent, shining with a brightness deadly to any lesser angel, hovered in the sky unmarked. No armor worn nor needed, only the spear of blazing fire wielded with utmost perfection held aloft by wings arcing with a summoned power greater than that of a trillion galaxies.

He was Helel, unrivaled focus of the Prime Intent and perceiver of All upheld by the glory of the Most High.

He was the First. He was the Morning Star who heralded all Creation.

He was the Lightbringer.

Eyes of shining golden beauty could not help but see Gabriel’s heart beat forth its last few drops of precious treasure as it tried to preserve that which it loved most.

She who was the manifestation of his own most sacred dream was dying.

A howl of agony ripped across the sky and those burning eyes closed to blot out such a sight.

In that instant Michael struck. Faster than lightning he blinked across the distance and past, torn feathered wings fluttering behind with head bowed low.

For his hand was empty.

Buried in the First’s stomach was Michael’s blade, its fires burning strong while the light filling the Morningstar’s wings failed.

Archangel Lucifer, with eyes still closed and arms outstretched, dimmed and fell from Heaven into the waiting Darkness below.

 

My own shout woke me up.

“NO!”

Clutching at the armor covering my own chest I bent over with the remembered lingering agony of Gabriel’s self-inflicted wound. The residual pain of that strike however was nothing in comparison to the heartache the sight of Lucifer streaking downward had ripped from her spirit.

An agony of terrible loss which hit rather close to home.

Twitch’s covered face hovered into view as the painful images finally receded. I was slumped halfway out of the armchair, the small table knocked sideways. A couple goblets were still rolling on the floor with golden meade-like contents trailing behind.

Oh. I’d kicked it over.

“I’m alright,” I said, waving Twitch off. He was leaning over with that awkwardness of not knowing whether to help the crazy person who might be having a seizure or give them a hug. Taking a deep breath I pulled myself back into the plush chair out of reach of either. “Just need a minute”

A voice from the opposite chair spoke. “Bad dream?” Hank held a steaming spoon waiting to enter his mouth. A thick tan coat lay rumpled beside him, leaving him wearing only a simple grey tunic.

“Yeah,” I said. Twitch wasn’t moving so I put a hand on his arm. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Reluctantly Twitch took a step back and crossed his arms, disbelief clear by the posture.

Wiping at the sides of my eyes I continued to pretend what I’d just said was the truth. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours maybe. I just got here.” Hank munched on the spoonful but spoke past it anyway. “The base captain says he’s still waiting for word on some raid to the Spires.”

“Weren’t you were supposed to stay at the camp?” I moved to clean up the mess I’d made of the table and goblets, but Twitch tsked at me and got to it himself.

“Yeah. But that lady you popped out of the demon insisted someone get you a message.”

“Maddalena?”

“Yup. Here.” Leaning forward Hank placed a rolled up parchment on the table Twitch had just set back into place. The roll was held together by strands of brown hair and a small spell. “She gave warning if anyone but you opened it they’d burn their fingers.”

“Huh.” As I picked it up the hair crackled and fell away. Unrolling the scroll revealed a message written in a precise hand despite using charcoal as the medium. It was also in Italian:

I forzieri contengono abbastanza tesori per acquistare un Ducato. Nessun altro lo sa.

The note sparked and turned to ash like it was made of flash paper once read. But the meaning had been clear: Chests contain enough treasures to purchase a Duchy. Nobody else knows.

Huh. I was rich.

Hank pointed an empty spoon at my dumbfounded face. “Good news or bad?”

“Uh, good I think.” Though it raised an uncomfortable question. Namely, what the heck? Why did Captain Erglyk, living as she did like a hermit in an out of the way outpost, have a fortune like that stashed away?

Just what else had she been into?

“Don’t sound so certain there, Commander.” Hank grinned.

“Hey, cut the rank crap. I don’t remember you signing up. Come to think of it, we’re at the Hole. You could go through the usual intake processing.”

He shrugged. “Still weighing the options. How ‘bout you? You know your next move?”

Twitch handed me a refilled goblet. I was right, the stuff tasted like mead. Mead that had sat out for too long and dulled all its flavor, but still. Though I really hoped the honey used in it hadn’t come out of some insect-like demon’s gut.

“Uh, this is as far as we’d planned,” I admitted. “Kill dumbass, preserve the Hole and save the reapers.”

“And now you’ve got a troupe of demon mercenaries at your beck and call. You gonna keep ‘em?”

I stared into my cup. “I don’t know.”

“Had a chat with that Horatio fella. Those mercs out in the hall are contract killers. What you planning to do with that lot? Or have you a blood-thirsty streak I ain’t noticed yet.”

It was a good question. “The one behind this entire mess, the attack on Epsilon and all of it, you don’t know him but I do. He’s evil. Whatever plans he has, they can’t be good. He’s corrupted one of Duke Valgor’s allies into attacking the Duke but I bet that’s just the surface of his schemes.”

“This is Hell. Aren’t most leaders here evil in one way or another? Insufficient reason to get involved, if’n you ask me.”

“Maybe. But if Azazel realizes I’m here, he’ll come after me again. He won’t stop.”

“You two got history?”

The gold liquid swirled around below the rim. “You could say that. He tried to kill me.”

“You’re after revenge then.”

I shook my head. “No. You don’t get it. He badly hurt those I loved just to get at me. He’ll do it again, I’m sure of it. No one near me would be safe. If Ithx has been taken over by Azazel then it’s probably too late. But if not and they stop Ithx from getting away, maybe I can hide.” I sighed. “This evil’s no demon, Hank. He’s a fallen angel.”

The old soldier placed the empty bowl on the table and whistled. “You picked a fight back on Earth with an angel? That’s nuts.”

“Wasn’t by choice.”

“Sounds like you may actually need all the muscle you can muster. Keeping them mercs could be the way to go.”

“That’s just it.” I shook my head. “I’d have to lead them. Not sure I can.”

“Why not?”

“How can you lead that which you hate?” I closed my eyes for a moment, seeing the horde fighting over food even though there was plenty for everyone. “They’re soul-sucking demons, they stink of it. When I look at them all I can see are the hapless souls locked inside being raped for power. I want to rip each of those bastards open and free those souls!” Mead spilled over the brim. It was cold.

Hank was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke, slower than before while staring at sights only he had seen.

“I got stationed in the Middle East a few years back. Had orders to make nice with this local chief because his tribe controlled a narrow path of scrub brush right through these pair of hills the enemy used to smuggle their heroin. Gave this chief bundles of cash and toys to make his gloating beard happy. One night as a guest under his tent they brought three boys in, couldn’t have been more than seven maybe eight years old. Faces bruised and wrists burned by ropes. Chief told me I could pick one to take back to my tent. The other two were going to his brother-in-law, a gap-toothed sonuvabitch standing there salivating at the thought.” He paused, picking up the spoon from the bowl and tapping its edge with it. “The boys were told to sit but they kept their behinds off the ground anyway, hovering there painfully by the fire.”

“What did you do?”

His gaze returned, haunted yet clear and focused. “I wanted nothin’ more then to pull my sidearm and put holes in the faces of those sodomizing bastards. But I didn’t. Instead I took the boy who seemed to be in the most pain back to my tent, fed the kid chocolate, and handed him a couple comic books. He liked the pictures. Once he realized that was all that was gonna happen he passed out for the rest of the night. Best sleep he’d probably gotten in over a month. The next day my unit and the chief’s tribesmen secured that passage.”

I swallowed, but it wasn’t from more mead. “I don’t know if I could do that.” My cup returned to the table. I’d had enough.

“And yet with that chief’s help we caught twenty terrorists who had bombed local schools full of kids for daring to teach girls to read and write.”

“That’s a horrible choice.”

“War is a horrible choice. With horrible consequences. But the alternative is to lay down and die.”

I couldn’t sit anymore. Still in armor I clanked as I stood and paced the room. “I’m no war-leader. Need me to re-architect a database? No problem. But military tactics?” I shook my head.

Hank chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

“Maybe I should turn it over to you. You said you were a soldier, what rank?”

“Ha! Not gonna happen. Think that lot would follow anyone they didn’t believe could kick their ass?”

“You’d know how to lead though.”

“So do you.” He sat forward and stretched arms out and back which yielded an audible crack from his spine. “I’ve been watching. You’re good in a crisis, clear headed. You listen to others yet still are decisive. Those are leadership traits. Twitch follows you. And if you’d paid attention, even old hands at violence like Yaria and Ruyia have come to respect you. You’ve got the right instincts, girl. You’re cute as a damn button, but there’s a strength of will behind the pretty packaging that folks respond to.”

My feet stopped walking. Had it gotten hot in here? My face had flushed.

“As for tactics,” he added, “I saw that mob’s rush into this fortress. They know jack squat.”

“Could you teach them? Teach me?”

The ex-soldier grinned. “I’m a merciless slave-driver. Sure you want to unleash that?”

“If you can help whip them into better fighting shape, I’d be grateful. And I need all the instruction I can get or else I could get them all killed.”

His blue eyes twinkled even in the dim lighting. “See? That right there shows the heart of a true leader.”

Before I could process the conflicting duality of wanting them dead but not due to my own commands, the door opened. A pissed off Yaria marched right past Twitch, who in turn had to pull the door further open to allow her father to enter as he was using a knotty felwood staff to aid his own slower pace. Not breaking stride Yaria went straight to my cup and downed the rest of its mead.

Vance leaned against the staff and waved off Twitch’s offered hand of assistance. “I am alright, due entirely to Jordan’s aid according to the telling.” Looking to me he gave a short bow. “I find myself greatly in your debt.”

“It’s just good to see you awake,” I said with a smile. “But I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.” With a glance to Yaria I asked the obvious question. “What happened?”

“Ithx escaped,” she said, flashing fangs. “Somehow they knew it was a ruse and fled. The guards left behind made a suicide run at us and exploded. Ruyia shouted a warning in time.”

“Worse still,” Vance added, “they destroyed the portal with their exit.”

“Any idea where it led?”

“But of course. Originally it went to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city of Dis. However they must have redirected it to a different locus in that city for their own use.”

I frowned. “That’s not in this realm.”

Yaria refilled my goblet but kept it. “It’s the main city of Samael’s domain. The only other direct portal to it is at the base of the central mountain on the Light side of this rock. Outside of the Arch-Duke’s city where the official inter-domain trade is funneled and regulated.”

That certainly didn’t sound convenient to use for secret purposes. “How hard is it to make a portal to another realm?”

Vance sighed. “The spell itself is of only moderate difficulty if the connecting locations are naturally conducive to such. Collecting the required elements for success is a far more expensive and time-consuming endeavor.”

“I’m guessing your caravan doesn’t have the needed ingredients on hand.”

“No,” said Yaria bluntly, wiping mead from the corners of her mouth with my napkin.

“Well crap,” I said. “So we can’t chase after them. What is Tuthos going to do about it?”

Moving one careful foot at a time, Vance made his way to the chair I’d been using and gave a polite lift of eyebrows.

“Go ahead,” I told him. It’s not like I could manage to sit still right now anyway.

He sank into the chair, leaning the staff against a shoulder and momentarily closing his eyes. We may have burned the infecting crud out of his system, but the process had definitely taken a toll. “Tuthos is exchanging messages with his commander on the flip side. What Duke Valgor does shall remain to be seen, but Tuthos himself can do little. His charge is to maintain the outposts. The portal’s removal also alleviates the threat here - provided you do not command your recently acquired force to take this post.” He winked at me. “Well done, by the way.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“The better question,” he said, “is what you intend to do.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Yaria tells me an ancient enemy of yours is potentially behind this attack. And that this is likely only part of a much larger scheme. What is your will? Shall you return to being a reaper at the furthest outpost aiding in its re-establishment? With your accomplishments you could even inherit the position of your armor’s predecessor. Or will you take advantage of the situation and gain additional contracts for the mercenaries currently under your command.”

I didn’t say anything.

“There is a third option,” Yaria said, offering the refilled cup to Vance after drinking half of it. “You could join us.”

That triggered a wry smirk. “Still trying?” I asked.

Vance shrugged and raised the goblet in salute. “You have impressive skills. And your music would lift all our hearts.”

It was tempting. Really tempting.

Except it was just another form of hiding which could get them all killed.

As I tried to find a polite way to refuse the doorway filled yet again. Tuthos came in flanked by two of his guards. Waving a foreleg he announced, “I have been notified that Xargglxesh collapsed in his cell. No visible wounds were found yet he is deceased.”

I closed my eyes. Dammit, another one lost. Charles was not an innocent like the Whateley guard I had watched die from Azazel’s remote access, but still.

I’d managed to fail again.

A surge of uncertainty swirled through my guts as if I was standing over a bottomless pit. If Azazel could reach Charles then he likely had a possessed agent in range still with Ithx - if it wasn’t Ithx himself.

Who’d gotten away.

My cover could already be blown. New wealth alone wouldn’t protect me or anyone else from a fallen angel’s dedicated search. He’d torture anyone and everyone to get to me, I just knew it.

Or just bind them to his dreadful will.

“Fuck!” I said, eyes snapping open to fix upon the leafy-greens-colored captain. “You have to tell the Duke about Azazel. Convince Valgor how much danger he and everyone is in.”

The mantis twitched uncomfortably. “There is no incontrovertible proof of this. Without it the Duke has nothing with which he can approach the Fallen. The testimony of a single mortal soul is insufficient.”

I boggled at him. “And how are we to find proof now? Ithx escaped and Charles is dead!”

“Commander Jordan,” Tuthos said, straightening to his full insectoid height. “My Duchy is under attack. Even now Duke Juxtyle’s forces move to besiege our cities. I have been authorized to secure aid in its defense. Therefore I must ask: will you accept contract to lend the might of the warriors under your command to our defense? Perhaps in fighting these foes you will discover the evidence you seek.”

I looked over at Hank. A compassionate understanding touched his eyes, but the face and its corresponding nod were stern.

With a long exhale I made the decision.

“Hank, inform the troops. We’re going to war.”

 

Chapter 21 - Amends

 

Thick drops pelted exposed head and shoulders, smearing across glasses through which Isaiah came to realize he hadn’t been looking.

He had no memory of taking the elevator down nor of walking out of the storage facility into the driving rain.

“Mr. Cohen! This way, señor!”

Two figures stood unresolved in the parking lot’s darkness, one a mottled blend of grey over a core determined to hold onto its small portion of light.

The other was brighter and darker both, patches of marked intensity refusing integration with the inner shadows but instead struggling for a dominance neither side could achieve. The tension within them hummed with terrible potential.

He was the one who had called to him. With such understanding came recognition of the dark brown ponytail and carefully trimmed goatee.

“Mr. Diego.” Isaiah blinked eyes free of the wet slipping behind his lenses and his sight cleared somewhat. The sergeant who had let them in to the storage building stood next to Martin Diego, the former DPA wizard. Both stood under deployed umbrellas, the perimeter lights making the rain appear as cascading diamonds bouncing off the dark cloth. Behind them a black towncar idled, its driver staring out from behind a windshield barely swept clear by the rapid wipers.

“Are you alright, señor?” Diego stepped forward.

The question was odd. No, not the question. It was the answer that avoided clarity.

“I forgot to use the umbrella,” Isaiah said, noting the one from Soren still folded and held within his gloved grip.

Putting his own over them both, Diego leaned in so only Isaiah could hear. “I do not know exactly what just happened, but a pulse of tremendous power was released a few minutes ago. If you were at its center, you could be in shock. Come, I am to escort you to HQ. You should feel better if we move away from this place.”

A hand took his arm, pulling him towards the car. A third person stood at its side, dressed in a cloak of white and watching him with great concern.

The rain failed to touch a single strand of her curly red hair nor did her cloak or person keep the water from striking the ground under her feet.

Diego bustled him into the car’s back seat, quickly running around to get in from the other side. With coordination from the sergeant the parking lot gate opened, guards ready to repel any from the crowd still gathered outside. The throng was no longer singing. They had all fallen to their knees with hands pressed together in prayer.

As they drove past they seemed to Isaiah to be holding small flashlights between their palms, the glows flickering between their fingers.

With a push of a button the glass barrier between passengers and driver rose and locked into place. Diego removed a piece of chalk from a coat pocket and marked the sidewall under the glass with three symbols, muttering under his breath as he did so.

Isaiah found his ears needing to clear as if the pressure within the car had shifted.

“There,” Diego said. “We should now be able to speak with privacy. But first, please allow me to extend my condolences on your losses.”

Isaiah nodded an acknowledgment but spoke to his own question. “Why are we going to your headquarters?”

“The Director only said that you wished to see Zakiel’s incarnate, Iosef Kaminski. I will admit that Goodman’s other information is hard to believe.”

“Which is?” Fingers executed old habit as Isaiah removed the circular glasses and cleaned them with a cloth from his business jacket’s pocket intended for such purpose.

“Only that Callas Soren and Nick Wright are trying to save Jordan. They were with you when you went in. Did they portal elsewhere and leave you behind?”

Lenses were placed back across his nose, and with their return came additional focus. “Yes. They went to Hell. That is where she is.” Isaiah had almost used the male pronoun again, but he needed to face the truth. Justin was gone. His spirit was now what mattered, regardless in which gender it manifested. Everyone else knew her only as Jordan for they had never met him as Justin.

Somehow that made him sad.

Diego had rocked back in his seat as the implications of what had been said hit home. “They intend to save her from Hell?”

“Correct.”

The wizard’s face scrunched with befuddlement. “Impossible.”

“Is it?” Isaiah scrutinized the magic user. “And yet did you not have a demonic-possessed charm with its own connection to Hell? One with which your daughter corrupted another student who then almost killed many others.”

Diego’s shoulders slumped. “That was my fault, yes.”

“If it is impossible for anything to leave Hell then how was that demon set loose?”

The wizard’s tug on his goatee failed to chase away the look of haunted guilt. “It wasn’t, not truly. The charm opened a gate through which its spirit could act, the demon was still physically bound below. Think of it as a means by which the demon’s evil was projected beyond the seal binding all within Hell’s domains.”

“I’ve seen footage of the battle in Egypt. The demon attacking the pyramid was solid. It left massive footprints in its wake.”

“A result of the summoning spell only. With enough energy a physical form may be manifested which a demon may possess and utilize. That Nick had the skill to channel such power is simply astonishing. I could not have done it.”

“Still. That sounds like a breach to those realms.”

Diego shook his head. “We believe it was Solomon the Wise who figured out how to do so. In fact he may have created the very channels which are still being used today. It requires a human practitioner’s intent and a pact to be forged and accepted. The act of that choice provides the loophole through which a bridge may be generated.”

“Choice.”

The wizard nodded. “Free will, the gift bestowed upon humanity about which theorists debate endlessly. The proper exercise of choice is an act of creation, equal to God’s. ‘So God created man in his own image.’ Demons and angels alike lack it in full.”

“Could a soul then simply choose to leave Hell?”

“In theory. It would take a soul transcendent to pit their choice against God’s. And should they fail, I know not what would become of them. I have never heard tale of such success. As it is, Soren and Wright have embarked on a fool’s errand regardless for Jordan is an angel. Being such she cannot go against the set will of God. To do so would be tantamount to opposing herself.”

To this Isaiah said nothing. How much did he believe in what Adam had showed them from within his quaint Cambridge home? Even if Isaiah granted that all to be true, that indeed Lucifer had once escaped Hell by circumventing the Seal placed upon those realms via a path through Chaos itself, it was a much larger leap of belief to claim that Jordan had the same potential.

Being an angel was one thing. Even being a Horseman of the Apocalypse. But matching the power of the First?

That thought was unsettling at a level he was still trying to understand.

Due to the weather the car made slow progress through the city. While passing yet another avoidable accident, Isaiah again decided that the citizens of Los Angeles had absolutely no clue how to drive in the rain. Eventually they arrived at the DPA western headquarters having slogged bumper-to-bumper over the Sepulveda Pass and along the 101 Freeway, as the DPA building had been built against the hills north of the city.

Entering the lobby beyond the dark glass covering the offices revealed it as full of wet and impatient agents standing within queuing ropes. The long meandering line led to a single scanner granting access to the complex beyond. At first glance it raised the question of why the DPA was limited to just one metal-detector and not possessing more to mitigate any delays at the entrance, but further inspection made the answer clear.

This was not a normal detector.

Instead of the standard doorframe posts or even the small pods as found at airports where passengers were told to lift their hands above their heads while robotic arms waved at them, this was something else. A pod, yes, but one covered with magic symbols and many tubes all protruding in many directions and connecting to various nearby behemoths of machinery.

“Come, Zakiel is upstairs,” Diego said, shaking water off his umbrella before closing it and taking a step towards the scene. “I was told we could skip to the front of the line and avoid the wait.”

Isaiah didn’t move. “What does that machine do exactly?”

Diego paused. “It scans for the unholy taint upon those afflicted by the Grigori Azazel, amongst other things.”

“What other things?”

“We know Jordan believed the Grigori Sariel attempted to have you and others assassinated. And that the Grigori are incarnated as regular humans. For our protection this device is also designed to detect any non-human spirits.”

“And if I refuse to submit to such an invasion of privacy?”

The wizard regarded the lawyer. “Then you would not be allowed in. Given the threat to the world as seen in Egypt, National Security is paramount. Courts will uphold the validity of such a search prior to entering a government facility if challenged.”

To Diego’s surprise, Isaiah chuckled. “That certainly explains a few things.”

“Pardon?”

“Why the Director was allowing this visit to Zakiel so easily,” Isaiah said. “And why you specifically are assigned as my escort. He wishes to put me in that box.” Soren’s umbrella was long and Isaiah rested both hands upon the curved handle as he ground its metal tip into the floor.

Checking side to side to be sure they were out of earshot of any others, Diego spoke in a hushed tone. “These are strange days, señor. There are mysteries regarding Sariel’s attempt on your life which defy analysis. There are patterns at play here which are also undeniable. Patterns which aligned themselves in close proximity around your lost friend. Perhaps you are like the rest of us, a mortal lost at sea amidst the titans. But we have questions.”

“Such as?”

Diego gestured at one of the gloves holding Isaiah’s umbrella. “What happened to your left hand, señor, to have given it such discolor that you now strive to keep it hidden? And why do you believe Zakiel would speak with you when so many others have failed?”

Isaiah looked down at the glove and then back to the wizard.

While waiting for reply Diego found himself anxiously holding his breath.

“The answer is simple,” Isaiah finally said. “He seeks Death.” Behind the circular frames Isaiah’s eyes hardened. “And I have arrived.”

 

~o~O~o~

 

In the end Isaiah agreed to enter the pod provided all records of the scan were immediately deleted after Diego’s sole analysis.

The Director had needed clearance from above but confirmation was quick, delivered along with a firm directive: the United States would not interfere with the agents of Heaven. Jordan’s sacrifice to save most of the Middle East if not the world from an existential threat carried a lot of weight at the highest of circles. The Security Council was fain to aggravate any further sources of such assistance. And if Angels of the Lord were indeed again walking the Earth, what President in their right mind would dare stand in their way?

Thereby it was declared that knowledge of Isaiah’s true identity was classified as Top Secret and additionally marked as Sensitive Compartmented Information. In other words, even the top brass were not to be filled in unless they had a direct ‘need to know’.

Diego, face still pale from the machine’s confirming report regarding the potentials within the lawyer’s spirit, had hastily escorted Isaiah up to the top floor and to a pair of secure double doors guarded by two agents wearing fully-loaded and powered armor.

With keycard, retina scan, and voice authentication, the wizard let Isaiah into a wide open space of cream-colored tile flooring, one side lined with windows clattering loudly from the watery barrage of the continuing storm. The rest of the room was empty except for a single hospital-style bed surrounded by various life-preserving devices which beeped and hummed to maintain the breathing and heartbeat of a comatose bearded old man.

The unmoving figure was not what Isaiah had focused on after entering. Instead his eyes had fixated on a spot by the windows.

“I will require privacy,” Isaiah said without turning to Diego who had followed in behind.

The wizard hesitated. “The room is monitored. I’m not sure I have the authority to turn that off, señor.”

“I see. So be it.”

Stepping towards those windows Isaiah removed a glove and reached out with the discolored hand as if trying to shake hands with the rain beyond.

Diego, powerful wizard as he was, barely caught the shimmering outline of other hands clasping the one which had been offered.

 

Two figures faced each other on a vast plane of grey stone, one clad solely in black and the other in white.

The one in white smiled and with two hands shook another with skin matching the sleeves of its dark cloak.

“Lord Azrael,” said the one whose smile split well-trimmed facial hair. “Has the shining light sent you to free me at last from the burdens of this lifetime? It was her promise to aid in such.”

From within the shadowed hood a voice could be heard both immediate and distant.

“Such time is long past due, Iosef Kaminski.”

A shudder of relief passed through the questioner and his head lowered, salt-and-pepper beard pressing against his chest. “I am ready, Lord.”

“But first, Iosef, where may be found the one known as Bishop?” The grip of the obsidian hand tightened.

Iosef winced, but not from pain. “I know not. At the end I was but a tool for fueling his ambition. Though in truth perhaps I was always such, as per the sorcerer’s bargain.”

“By that bargain you lived well. While ignoring the purposes for which the power you collected was intended. And this bargain binds you still by the perversion of spells prolonging this incarnation. Explain then how justice would not be served in leaving you locked within their chains?”

Fear gripped stronger than the hand. “Lord! Please!”

“You were offered the chance to stand once more within the grace of the Light yet you refused, Zakiel of the Grigori.”

Tears gathered along eyes much older than the wrinkled face which wore them. “My sins are too great, Lord. They cannot be cleansed in fires of insufficient purity. The shining light had not yet reached her potential.” He swallowed. “I dared not try and fail.”

“As in the past you again lacked faith. Are you so certain you are deserving of a third testing?”

Dropping to one knee, Iosef-who-was-Zakiel deeply bowed his head. “No, Lord.”

The hooded angel paused. In a voice less overwhelming he said, “Think, Iosef! Surely there is something with which you may offer amends.”

Plaintive eyes searched within the shadowed hood. “My spirit fulfills still its function. It strives to cleanse what souls it can of the despair and pain of untimely passings. Its true purpose has never been abandoned, Lord. What more can I offer?”

“A purpose ill-formed if not performed within the Light which you abandoned!” roared the angel, wings flaring out to cover the grey landscape with their feathers of twilight. “A purpose whose deployment resulted in her being cast down like the First - to witness such twice is agony beyond all measure!” Pulling the being in white to his feet, the hood leaned forward and hissed into the face of the incarnate Grigori. “Give me reason not to hurl you along the wake of her passage.”

The starless and final night residing within that hood filled Iosef’s eyes as he blurted the only thing which came to mind. “Coatl! Have they caught the one called Coatl?”

“There has been no mention of any such person.”

“He is Bishop’s most trusted servant! A vampire of old. He was there in El Paso. Find him and you will find his master!”

“Show me.”

The dark angel ripped the knowledge from the spirit held within its grip. Iosef cried out for the experience was not without pain. Here in this place blood dripped from his nose and ears in manifestation of what was endured.

Releasing the trapped hand, Azrael nodded in satisfaction. “I see also the truth of the light’s promise made unto you. In honor of her sacred name, it shall be so. One more lifetime upon the Wheel, Zakiel of the Grigori. This shall be granted though you deserve it not. Prove your worth in that time or you too shall journey to the realms below forevermore.”

With this spoken, the shadowy outline of wings pulled Azrael away. The resonance of his declaration rippled through Creation’s fabric, only to find an oddly matching echo within the pattern’s potential whose source he could not yet see. He marked the occurrence as yet one more item amongst so many others pending resolution.

As with those, he would wait. He would watch.

And in the fullness of time, he would Judge.

 

To Diego it was all over within a blink of the eye. Isaiah held out his hand and the lights went out. Power to the building failed, and backup generators did not trigger instantly as they should.

The wizard hadn’t even felt a spell go off.

As the comatose man in the bed wheezed past tubes no longer pumping, Isaiah pointed at the windows now offering the only dim light within the room.

A blinding burst of lightning outlined a face within the storm. In the darkness that followed the generators finally kicked in to restore the room’s overhead lights, but the life-preserving machines within the room remained offline.

The face however could still be seen in full detail as if etched directly onto the glass.

“Find this man,” said Isaiah. “Find him and thereby locate Bishop and his third device of uncleansed horror.”

Behind Diego the only machine in the room which had clicked back on emitted a singular ear-piercing tone.