Light's Promise (Part 1 of 6)

by Erisian

 

Chapter 1 - Brotherhood

A cool breeze hinted at Autumn’s approach being only weeks away, although the direct sun had yet to relinquish its warm grip on Summer. The campus had been busy with the rush of vans and cars signaling the arrival of students both new and returning in a frenetic dance of luggage, computers, personal accessories, and even some fancy stereo systems. Almost all attendees had moved into their respective cottages and gone through the required orientations for the upcoming school year. I say ‘almost’ because we were missing one very important student.

My niece, Danielle, had yet to arrive.

The uneasy feeling in the stomach couldn’t shake the impression that something bad had happened, but as no one had said otherwise I was trying to ignore it. It’s not like I could call my ex-brother-in-law Mark and ask what was up, not after Director Goodman had made it painfully clear that any such actions would jeopardize the cover story for my new identity. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to keep quiet and go about being just another student at the school preparing for the upcoming term.

Strolling out of Kirby Hall after picking up my updated and official class schedule, I spotted Maia doing the same. As soon as she stepped out she smiled and spun about with arms wide to bask in the sun's warmth, her maple bark-colored skin and leafy-green hair soaking up the rays. That wasn’t a euphemism; given her tree nymph mutation she literally was pulling energy from the sunlight.

“Maia!” I called out, trying to get her attention.

“Oh, hey Jordan,” she said with eyes unfocused and dreamy.

“You heading to the cafeteria?”

“Hmm sure. Is it lunchtime?” She blinked and lowered her arms.

“Yep. You should probably eat. Were you out here getting your classes too?” I waved the printout of the schedule the rabbi had handed me.

“Nah, I got mine a week ago. I was just scouting out the classrooms so come Monday I’ll know where all the rooms are.”

“That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll do that this afternoon.”

We walked together along the road towards the Crystal Hall and past Administration. The flag on the pole today was red which was not too surprising. Many of the parents liked to drop their kids off personally to remind themselves why they were spending all their money on tuition. They knew it was a school for mutants and special kids and everything, but that didn’t mean they were ready for the truly different ones. Seeing your own child about to attend classes with velociraptors can be unnerving, not to mention the poor kids sporting far too many tentacles. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how the jerk preppies at my old high school would have reacted to these new classmates. They likely would have fled in horror to the security of their BMWs and immediately crashed into each other in the ensuing panic.

“Kinda late for schedule changes, you having issues with yours?” Maia asked curiously, looking askance at my evil smile.

I shrugged, letting go of the amusing daydream. “Well, first the administration insisted I TA a pre-calc class after hearing about my helping Tamara pass her Algebra final. Then they wasted a few days debating the results from all the additional powers testing stuff. They’re mandating I not use any powers in the lab or even at martial arts until I learn better control. The effects on others is considered too risky. So I’ll be doing independent lab-work with the rabbi instead.”

Maia flushed at being reminded of the time in the cafeteria when she’d been overwhelmed by my powering up. I had done so to deal with a demon-possessed bully, but she had experienced the backwash. She hadn’t asked me to do it again since, and I hadn’t offered - it had been a rather awkward moment. Her enjoyment of the sun just now? Yeah, it was like that - except tripled.

A Lincoln Towncar with tinted windows drove past, pulling into a visitor spot further on and out front of the administration building. A professional driver stepped out and politely opened the rear passenger door. My heart leapt as a familiar white-haired young lady came bouncing forth, her neck craning about to take in the sights.

My grin returned, much wider this time. “Finally!”

Maia followed my stare. “Someone you know?”

“Uhm, yeah. I was hoping she’d get accepted.”

She smiled. “Cool!”

The driver went around to the other side. My old friend Isaiah stepped out, dressed to the nines as if on his way to court.

I stopped dead in my tracks. What the hell was Isaiah doing here? Where was Mark?

“Something wrong?” Maia asked, sensing my mood shift from joy to alarm.

“Maybe. She’s not with her…uncle. Instead she’s with a lawyer.”

Danielle and Isaiah climbed the steps to Schuster Hall while the driver plopped back into the car with the flair of someone expecting a long wait. He hadn’t even gotten any luggage out of the trunk. Not a good sign.

“Hey Maia?” I said while glowering at the back of that car. “Mind eating without me?”

“No worries, but what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. But thanks!” The last was shouted over a shoulder, feet were already running towards the Hall to find out.

~o~O~o~

Sprinting into the foyer, I caught sight of the two being escorted up the stairs by Mrs. Shugendo. I knew where those stairs lead as Mrs. Carson’s office was up there. Great.

If Isaiah was here, could there be some legal problem with Danielle’s application? And still, why wasn’t Mark with them? He was supposed to be her guardian, had his injuries been worse than they’d let on?

Pulling out a shiny new smart-phone, I made the only call that might get answers without screwing things up. When she answered I didn’t give her a chance to even say hello.

“Natalie! Why the hell is Isaiah here?”

“Jordan! And a good morning to you too! Where are you?”

“Administration. Danielle and Isaiah just went upstairs with Mrs. Shugendo.”

“Mmm…well, they have an appointment with Mrs. Carson at eleven.”

“You aren’t answering the question, Natalie. It should be Mark here with her, and the driver should be busy unloading her bags but isn’t. What gives?”

There was a long pause.

“Natalie? You there?”

“Yes…look, Jordan, there are things I was told not to tell you-”

“By whom? Goodman? Shit.”A surge of anger threatened to release a torrent of energy, but it got shoved down in time. Brightening the foyer with mystical light would definitely be a red flag violation.

Natalie sighed. “I suppose since they are already here the cat is out of the bag. There were legal complications - the courts enjoined Mark from taking custody of Danielle. I’m sorry.”

“WHAT?”

The senior running the front’s information booth looked up at the loud outburst. I turned away to face the community message board on the wall, ignoring their look of disapproval.

“Child Services got involved, making the case that the DPA - including Mark - had been careless with her safety, and even laid the blame for your death at their feet.”

I resisted an urge to put a hole in the wall right through all those stapled messages.

“Natalie. If she got shoved into foster care…and you didn’t tell me…”

“Jordan. You need to be calm-”

“Calm? You want me to be calm? Did the system just fuck over my niece? Yes or no!”

“Your friend Isaiah Cohen intervened. From what I understand, he blitzed the court system with a towering stack of motions; the judge granted his petitions and awarded him with full custody. Now breathe in, slowly.”

“Why…why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

“We were directed not to because you are still considered dangerously volatile.”

“Did this screw up her application to the school?”

“Not at all. Just possibly delayed things.”

“Delayed? How?”

She sighed. “Mr. Cohen. He’s refusing to sign the paperwork. He’s not convinced Whateley will be in her best interest.”

Fuck. I bet I knew why, too. “Let me guess. He thinks she should stay with what semblance of family she still has. And Isaiah probably has a plan on how to let Mark visit her to maintain the continuity of his support.”

“Good guess.”

“You people are idiots.” Thumbing ‘End Call’, I ran for the stairs.

I knew what I had to do.

~o~O~o~

It didn’t take long to reach Carson’s reception room having bounded up the stairs three at a time.

Natalie must have figured things out as the path to Carson’s closed inner door was already blocked by a young blonde woman with an expression that would be the envy of many drill sergeants. Her reputation was well known: ‘Hardass’ Hartford - the Assistant Headmistress.

“Stop right there, Ms. Emrys!”

“There’s a man in there I need to talk to. Now.” Our eyes locked, stubbornness to stubbornness.

“Mrs. Carson is in a private meeting. Furthermore there are instructions in place to prevent you from interfering. Security is already en-route, young lady.”

Rumors claimed Hartford was an exemplar, certainly her physical beauty attested as much although her cold anger ruined the whole effect. I wondered how much detention they’d nail me with if I smashed her through the door.

As I took a step forward she placed herself in a fighting stance. “Go ahead and try me if you dare.”

I grinned with a better idea.

Inhaling as deep as possible I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Isaiah Cohen! Get your ass out here! Isaiah!”

“Why you little-” Hartford lunged and tried to grab me, but I managed to dodge and shoved a chair between us.

“ISAIAH! Get out here, dammit!”

“Cease this nonsense! Immediately!” Mrs. Carson’s command boomed across the office.

I backed up. “I will if she will!”

“Amelia.” Mrs. Carson said in a tone brooking no argument. While Hartford’s anger was scary, Carson won. The Assistant Headmistress glared daggers of hate in my direction but lowered her hands.

Standing behind Carson was Isaiah. He stared with open curiosity. “Do I know you?” he asked with a touch of amusement.

Danielle wedged herself past him and instantly blurted, “Jordan!”

Isaiah frowned. “You know this girl?”

I spoke up. “She does. So do you. And we need to talk.”

Mrs. Carson tapped her cheek contemplatively, then inclined her head in my direction - so very slightly that I might have been the only one to notice. “Yes, I believe the two of you really should have a chat.”

As far as I was concerned, Mrs. Carson had just proven herself wiser than the entirety of the damn DPA.

~o~O~o~

We were shown to a conference room. Mrs. Shugendo took Danielle to give her the campus tour, but only after getting Isaiah’s permission - and after Danielle had given me a hard and long hug. I whispered to her that it would all be okay, and with a nervous nod she left with Mrs. Shugendo.

Mrs. Carson was the last one out, closing the door as she went. We were alone, just Isaiah sitting in his perfectly tailored suit-coat, tie, and suspenders, me in jeans and a t-shirt spelling out ‘DOOM’ in the classic game’s iconic lettering.

After we sat down, he spent a moment studying me from behind rimless glasses. The man was slightly shorter than me with clean-shaven and sharp features under a professional hairstyle. It was obvious that in the last ten years or so he hadn’t gotten to the gym much - not that he was fat or anything, he just had that middle-aged stomach spread that we all fight against. Well, that I used to fight against.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Alright, you wanted to talk. So talk.”

I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slid it across the table. “You should take this first.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I should?”

“Retainer. Gives you attorney-client privilege.”

“If you wish to sue the secretary for assault, you’ll need a different attorney. My practice is in California, nor does assault fall into the purview of my law specialty.”

“What? Sue Ms. Hartford?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “As funny as that would be, no - that’s not it at all. Besides, she never touched me.”

He crossed his arms, revealing a rather expensive watch. Huh, he’d gotten a new one since the last time I’d seen him. “Young lady, get to the point please. You’ve already caused quite an interruption to my day.”

A snerk at his calling me ‘young lady’ almost escaped, but business first. “If you want to know what the DPA has been hiding from you, take the twenty. I want you covered by that client-attorney privilege.”

Eyes narrowing suspiciously he picked up the money. “I’ll need to know your full name.”

“My driver’s license says, ‘Jordan Elin Emrys’.”

“I see. Then, Ms. Emrys, for at least the next thirty minutes, I agree to be your attorney - with no guarantees of any action other than providing counsel. Speak.”

“That’ll do,” I said, still trying to figure out the best way to do this. “I’ll, uh, get to the point. Your friend Justin Thorne - he’s alive.”

Hope flickered briefly before raw anger slammed over it as he crushed the twenty. “If this is some kind of sick joke, you will not like the consequences.”

“No joke, Isaiah! Just…just listen, okay? I don’t know what all they’ve told you - and I do know that Danielle was sworn to secrecy and was intimidated pretty seriously about it. But as only one part of the whole mess was specifically declared to me to be ‘classified’, I think I can tell you the rest. They just won’t like it.”

He had been about to angrily interrupt but the mention of information being ‘classified’ gave him pause.

Into that opening I plowed ahead. “Justin got home from work on that crazy day in L.A. to find the door of his house blown off, with a trail of tornado damage running to Danielle’s room. She was gone-”

“I already know that.” He cut me off with a sharp gesture. “What has not been made clear are the circumstances of his death two days later.”

“Yeah, sure, he was attacked when he tried to go home, but did they tell you that in rescuing Danielle that first night how he’d been changed?”

“Changed?”

“Majorly. Not mentally, mind you, but physically. Completely transformed.”

He hesitated, still furious but willing to think. “That could explain the MCO agent pushing the DPA in odd directions at the custody hearings.”

MCO? “Wait, the MCO was involved in trying to shove Danielle into foster care?” The bastards!

Isaiah noted the emotional reaction. “They were quite insistent, yet also seemed rather frustrated as if there were things they were unable to say in open court. If anything, the whole case smelled of them trying to put pressure on the DPA.”

I growled. “Goodman is going to get an earful if I ever get him on the phone again.”

“The DPA Director? You know him?”

“Look, dude. Just let me tell the damn story from the beginning.”

He put the twenty into an inner coat pocket. “I’m all ears.”

I started over.

~o~O~o~

This time he let me get all the way through. His brows had narrowed even further when I got to the part of Justin choosing a new name. What I didn’t describe was the ritual details in the storage unit as that was the classified information I’d been warned about - and I didn’t want to give Goodman any playing cards for when I reamed him over how close Danielle had come to being lost into foster care. I also didn’t mention to Isaiah about being an angel - I figured that would blow my credibility out of the water as far as he’d be concerned. One step at a time, right?

Oh, and I only said that they had arranged a scholarship for me - he’d disapprove heavily about taking any money from a guy like Callas Soren, you know, the suspected terrorist who started the entire mess.

I knew Isaiah would be mad about what had happened - what I didn’t expect was to be the major target of that rage.

“You expect me to believe this? That you, sitting here before me as a girl not old enough to vote, are actually my friend Justin Thorne?”

“Look, Isaiah, I can prove it - ask me anything! Stuff that only I should know! Ask me about random trivia from all the role-playing games we did in college, anything!”

“In a world where the capacity for mind-reading has been proven, you think that’s acceptable? For all I know, you are another ploy by the DPA to manipulate my ward. An attempt to get Danielle isolated where they can control her, and maybe use her as bait again like they obviously did to Justin. This school is full of talented psychics; you could easily pull those memories straight from my mind!”

“Whoa, whoa…I’m no psychic! Crazy energy slinger sure, but not psychic! And what the heck do you mean about using me as bait?”

“Sending Justin home with a single agent, especially with said agent being family, is absolutely absurd given the dangers of the situation. Dangling bait on the line to see what monster might bite!”

I thought about it and also got upset. “If they did, then Goodman is a double bastard for using Mark like that. Dammit, Isaiah - Mark almost died!”

“Yet you claim you saved him.”

“I tried to! How much I succeeded or not, I don’t really know. An ambulance showed up in time and they’re the ones who really saved him and got him stitched up.”

He studied me. “All of this is academic. I know for a fact you cannot be Justin.”

I blinked. “What?”

His face contorted with fury. “Because my best friend, the man I trusted as a brother, would have never kept me in the dark - he would never have let me believe him dead!”

Isaiah’s rage slammed into me like a thunderbolt. “But-”

“No buts! I don’t care if you have Justin’s memories, stolen somehow maybe, it doesn’t matter. My brother is dead!”

Guilt flooded me.

“Dammit, you’re right. You’re right! I should have called you!” I shouted back. “But you know why I haven’t? Because it might have risked Danielle! Look - you are the executor of my estate. The DPA set me up with a whole new identity to try and hide me from the scum behind the assassin sent to kill me. If you knew I was alive, how could you legally process my will and get Danielle the funds she needed to live? Let alone allow her to come here, a school where maybe - for the first time in her life - she could be accepted for who and what she was. Not to mention it might have jeopardized your law license to perpetuate a knowing fraud on the court. I couldn’t do that to you, that license is your whole life!”

“If the government purposely declares someone dead as a matter of national security, then legally they are dead. It wouldn’t have mattered if I knew or not as a matter of law.”

I spluttered. “But…but that’s not what they told me.” I rocked back in my chair, flabbergasted. Why would the DPA have encouraged such a lie?

Isaiah removed his glasses and slowly rubbed his forehead. “The Department of Paranormal Affairs has a track record of obfuscation. The Director likely believed that the fewer number of people who knew, the better to sell the cover they were creating.”

“And I fell for it. Wanting to protect you and Danielle. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

He stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

“Now you are starting to sound like my friend.”

~o~O~o~

He still put me through the wringer, of course, asking question after question to verify that I was indeed Justin transformed. No topic was off-limits either, and the jerk had me in tears recounting yet again the loss of my wife and sister.

We even argued about some of our past escapades as we clearly had different memories of certain events. For those we had to agree to disagree, although with my exemplar memory I was damned sure I had things correct.

After over an hour of this I was starving but he was still going strong and busy probing trivia from our role-playing game exploits.

“In your Arthurian Campaign,” he asked, “what did Gawain do when we all burst into Arthur’s bedroom and found Lancelot and Guenevere in his bed instead?”

“C’mon, man. Let’s break for lunch. How much more of this do you need?”

“Are you saying you are unable to answer?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. He picked up the entire four-poster bed and chucked it. Which is how Morgause’s infertility charm that kept Gwen barren all those years was discovered. Can we eat now?”

He nodded, still maintaining a lawyerly poker face. “Food would indeed be welcome. But don’t think this break is in any way to be construed as me accepting your story.”

I sighed. “Fine. Though I’m really not sure what else I can say to convince you. Look, there’s a restaurant over at Dunn’s Hall. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’ll buy.”

“I can pay for my own.”

Shaking my head I said, “Not happening. It’s the least I can do - you saved Danielle from Child Services and even flew all the way out here. I know how busy you are. ”

When we got to Carson’s office, Hartford icily informed us that Mrs. Shugendo and Danielle were still touring the campus and that Mrs. Shugendo would provide Danielle with lunch. The Headmistress had left instructions that I should escort Isaiah for his inspection of the campus and to meet back here by three.

On the way to Dunn’s we passed a few Thornies who all cheerily greeted me by name (or by calling me ‘Red’, the nickname I was having a hard time shaking off). After the fourth one, I had a disturbing thought that they all had assumed that Isaiah was my father. The mere notion gave me the willies; I’d have to disabuse everyone of that later somehow because yeesh.

As for Isaiah, he stayed mostly quiet and observant while I pointed out the sights on the way to the restaurant. Once there we were led to a booth in the back away from everyone else (as had always been his preference) and after a quiet span a young waiter who was likely also a student came by to take our order.

I went first. “Could I get the Italian sandwich and an iced tea? Thanks.”

The kid looked at Isaiah expectantly. With a smug smile my friend simply said, “She’ll order for me.”

Good grief. Another test.

Thus began my interrogation of the poor waiter on their selection of juices before settling on ‘cranberry, with just a little bit of ice’, following up with asking what soups they had today, and finally choosing the chips and guacamole appetizer with a crispy chicken sandwich.

And no, the bread did not have any rosemary or thyme in it.

The waiter looked back at Isaiah just to be sure, and got a wordless nod of acceptance before heading off. I sat there awkwardly for a minute while Isaiah just stared in thoughtful consideration.

“You going to say something or just glare at me through lunch?” I said grumpily.

“It’s fascinating.”

“What is? This restaurant?” I made a show of looking around. “Looks pretty normal to me.”

“You are. Your mannerisms and speech patterns are those of my friend, but not entirely.”

“Not entirely? Well sorry, but it’s hard to be exactly the same as you were while wearing a bra and a school skirt.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. Justin was always more introspective - whereas you waved back at those other students with open and unrestrained affection. Not to mention you’ve been wearing your heart on your sleeve during our entire conversation.”

I grumbled, “You try dying and coming back like this and see if it doesn’t change you.”

“Dying?” He sat up straight, hard focus returning. “You said ‘transformed’, not dead.”

“Urm, yeah.” I rubbed my face. “While pulling Danielle out of that storage unit, I uh…I died. And came back. Didn’t figure that out till much later when I finally remembered Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?”

“The archangel. She caught me and threw me back. Maybe she’d passed her limit of souls that day, you know - catch and release?”

His lawyerly calm took a serious hit from hearing that. Score one for me!

Making sure no one was nearby to overhear, I decided to give him more details. And because he latched immediately onto the idea of someone actually speaking to an angel, I had to mention Raphael too. Which meant, of course, I had to fill him in on the powers I’d been manifesting, the triple circle in my attic room, and what had happened with both Evie and Tamara. When our food arrived he was sitting there stunned into silence while trying to process it all.

As I took a large bite of my sandwich, he exclaimed, “You’re telling me that God gave you a new life?”

“Mmmph!” I shook my head, swallowing what I could. “Not exactly.”

“If Gabriel, one of God’s most trusted angels, sent you back - how could it be otherwise? You said this Nick person saw Justin’s body disintegrate.”

“Yes…but…look, I don’t really know, okay? With what I can do now, I’m wondering if I somehow created this body after plunging back - or perhaps Soren’s ritual did it. Gabriel caught me before I reached the light, yes, but she just watched me fall back here.”

“And you’ve spoken with the angel Raphael.”

“In dreams, sure - and when he helped me clean the filth that had invaded Tamara.”

His eyes boggled from behind his glasses.

“What?” I asked.

“You…you had contact with two divine beings! Did you not ask if it was all true?”

I was confused. “True?”

“The Torah! God, Heaven, the Host! Why mankind exists! The nature of the Creator!”

“Uh…it didn’t come up?”

He gaped at me in astonishment.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” I said defensively. “There were other things I had to worry about! Besides - after they fixed the middle circle and I could get back to that dream-place, Raphael hasn’t been there. So it’s not like they gave me the chance to ask anything else.”

With an unsteady hand he took a long pull from his juice, emptying the entire glass in one go.

“Do you,” he said while shaking his head, “have any idea how big this is?”

“What, me coming back to life? There are mutants and super-heroes doing all kinds of crazy stuff. Just look at the papers!”

He slammed the empty glass back on the table causing me to jump. “Not like this!”

“Uh…”

An angry finger pointed at me. “Divine intervention! The Host taking direct action influencing things here on Earth! According to the Torah the Age of Prophecy is over, and yet-”

“Dude. Judaism isn’t the only faith that has ties to angels. I know you were raised Jewish and all, but people believe angels are behind all kinds of things.”

“This is different,” he said with certainty. “Or the DPA wouldn’t have bent over backwards to keep you hidden. Giving you a new identity like this means they had pressing reasons on a larger scale to do so. Otherwise you would just be in protective custody, be given a superhero watchdog, that sort of thing.”

He had a point. Mark pushed the ‘hide by faked death’ angle immediately after encountering the gryphon. And the Director himself had then watched over me while I slept, not to mention went out of his way to get me set up at Whateley. Hey, wait a minute…

“You realize,” I said slyly, “that you just acknowledged I was Justin?”

He frowned. “I did not.”

“Nope, you did. I quote, ‘Giving you a new identity like this’…”

“It’s hypothetical.”

“Oh c’mon!” I couldn’t believe how stubborn he was being. “Look, tell you what. Put it aside for now and after lunch I’ll take you to see the rabbi. Would that help?”

“A rabbi?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Rabbi Immanuel Kirov. You’d like him. I bet you two could babble in Russian at each other. He’s my adviser and is trying to guide my powers development.”

He nodded. “That sounds good.” Taking a bite of his own sandwich he added, “And I still have questions regarding this school and whether it’s appropriate for Danielle.”

I wanted to bury my face in my hands. “How can you argue it’s not the best chance for her future?”

“This place is too dangerous,” he answered simply. “Your own story just now proves the point.”

“My…my what?”

He ticked the items off on his fingers. “A child who is a psychic projector almost triggers ragers across the campus. Another child was possessed by a demonic entity. The best of their magic staff is concerned you might blow up New England. And that’s just your first couple of weeks here, it doesn’t even begin to touch the previous events at this school. Did you know the campus was assaulted by Syndicate forces not so many years ago? Or that it has housed Class X entities? I’ve done my research, obviously more thoroughly than you have.”

Class X what now?

“Whether you are or are not Justin Thorne reincarnated does not matter. Danielle’s safety is now my paramount responsibility.”

“Think about it though,” I said, putting aside wondering what the heck a ‘Class X’ thing was. “Whatever happened in the ritual that did this to me also did some major things to her. Her power potential reaches the upper echelons of their charts - how safe will she be if she isn’t taught how to use and control her abilities properly? I don’t know of anywhere else she can get such training. And with the possibility of that assassin deciding to go after her too, is your home as secure as this campus both physically and magically? For that matter, how many magical healers are employed at Saint John’s Hospital in Santa Monica?”

His expression hardened. “That poor girl has lost too much family. The courts prevented Mark from taking custody, but I can make sure he can visit as often as he’d like to give her some continuity-”

“Dammit Isaiah, I am her family. That’s why I agreed to attend high school as a freaking student again - so I could be there for her!”

We glared at each other. To my surprise he broke the staring contest first. With a sigh he looked down at his sandwich. “Let’s eat and go see your rabbi.”

“Fine.” Angrily, I tore further into my sandwich. He ate his more slowly, with eyes haunted again by pain…and maybe, just maybe, hope.

~o~O~o~

Fortunately Rabbi Kirov was in his office when we arrived. After being introduced to Isaiah, Kirov waved me towards the newly crafted circle in the back half of his room so he and Isaiah could talk without me interrupting. A week ago he had prepared his office so I’d have another “contained space” I could use to power up without flooding anyone else with supercharged backwash. So far it had done the trick.

With the rabbi switching to incomprehensible Russian as I walked to the circle, it was fairly obvious that the front office had told him to expect our visit. I just hoped that a fellow stubborn ex-soviet Jew could penetrate Isaiah’s thick skull and help him see reason. I mean, I knew the school had its risks (hey, I’d lived them) but it seemed much worse for Danielle to not be surrounded by the support this place could provide. Not just from me but from all the teachers and staff who genuinely cared for their students and their progress.

The world she had entered as an even more enhanced mutant was going to be a lot more demanding and she needed the best foundation possible, not just to survive but to flourish. The same went for me, which is why I didn’t argue much over being shunted aside so they could talk privately. The more practice time I could get in the better.

Folding legs under my skirt while on the floor within the markings, I traced a hand over the white lines and Hebrew letters. I’d been studying Hebrew each night from one of the books Soren had sent, finding the improved memory making foreign language acquisition so much easier than the previous attempts in my first go through of high school. God, I hated memorization back then. Vocabulary lists were such a pain in the ass.

As such I could read what Kirov had inscribed: an invocation calling on God and four of the archangels: Uriel, Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. Scattered about in immaculate Hebraic script were also the names of a number of other angels along with symbols designed to resonate Kirov’s intent of power-containment. As he’d explained, the whole design anchored on the names of the Most High: the higher name JHVH (whom he called “Hashem”, as you were never supposed to speak the name aloud) and Elohim, a name of God for when He acted within creation.

It was all rather baffling but he had said not to worry about that for now. The important thing, according to him, was the intent and the faith infusing the working: his belief and love for God.

Putting aside my own confused feelings towards the Almighty, I tried to control my breathing as Kirov had instructed. In and out, nice and slow. We had determined that the best way to ‘open up’ to that brilliant inner pillar was to focus on what mattered most to my heart. It sounds cheesy, but yeah - love opened that inner pipe wider than any other emotion.

Naturally I thought of Danielle. It always did the trick.

The resulting flood slammed instantly, threatening to spill out and turn me into a gigantic white LED. It wasn’t just a physical sensation but an emotional one - driving all feelings through the roof beyond the best highs I’d ever had in my previous life. Natalie had expressed concern about this - something about it stretching my capacity for emotional states beyond what was ‘healthy’.

I was more worried about it becoming addicting. But only after I’d recovered, because in the moment? It felt beyond natural.

It felt divine.

As the tingling sensations rammed their way under my skin, the energy rush pushed hard against some sort of built-in limiter. The tremendous pressure behind the stopgap was incomprehensible, so I was quite thankful it was there. Kirov had agreed there could be a risk of burnout should whatever this limiting factor was be breached - and he had anecdotal stories of previous rabbis reaching too high resulting in their death or madness. Kirov also expressed a further worrisome possibility: if unrestrained angelic energy ripped through my mind it could carry away my humanity.

As it was, containing even as ‘little’ as slipped through was problematic, which the current flickering under the skin demonstrated. It’s hard to hold in check the very thing that makes your spirit sing.

The rabbi had placed a single tea candle on a small aluminum tray and challenged me to channel only enough energy to light it. You know, without melting the entire thing into a sticky pool of wax. I’d spent a lot of time scrubbing that damn tray after each failed attempt. Still, I’d been getting better. The first try had caused hot white paraffin to explode all over my shirt and onto the nearby bookshelves. Getting to the point where it would only melt without bursting had been a minor victory in my opinion.

Little surprise then that after all the guilt and anger of the day I was having no luck. Every attempt to only send a trickle down my arm had the energy surging off on its own in random directions. I kept having to cut the flow completely and start all over.

The heated discussion in Russian behind me wasn’t helping much either. The more I thought of the possibility of Danielle not attending the school, the worse my control until finally I’d had enough. In a moment of internal pique I blurted loudly, “Screw it!” and let the resulting flash pulverize the candle to smithereens.

What I hadn’t noticed in my focused concentration was that the rabbi and Isaiah had walked over to watch. With that brilliant flare of power, wax exploded all over Isaiah’s pants and shoes. Chagrined, I looked upwards and accidentally blinded his astonished face with the light still streaming from my eyes.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” Eyelids snapped shut to cover the dang high-beams, and with effort I forced the plug back into the incoming energetic torrent - something that was getting harder to do every time.

Once the tower was locked down, I found Isaiah examining the quickly hardening wax splattered on his tailored slacks and designer Italian shoes. I waited for him to yell at me for making a mess.

The rabbi must have let slip about me being an angel and channeling from on high, as Isaiah said only one word in quiet awe:

“Adonai!”

 

Chapter 2 - Admission

 

Isaiah agreed to sign Danielle’s papers. He may have still been on the fence after his discussion with Rabbi Kirov and during the rest of the campus tour that I dragged him through, but when he saw Danielle’s face back at Mrs. Carson’s office I realized his objections had all become moot.

If I hadn’t just spent a couple weeks with kids who could literally light up (myself included), I’d have said her beaming grin was ‘glowing’. Her excitement was palpable - she launched into an exuberant monologue about the magic labs, awesome dorm rooms, and even gave a lavish description of the Crystal Hall Cafeteria.

My friend, bull-headed trial lawyer that he was, had met his match and was overcome by a bubbling teenage girl. The stubbornness set across his cheekbones melted away before her giddy onslaught. He was doomed.

Behind his back there was an exchange of knowing smiles between Mrs. Carson and Mrs. Shugendo before he was carefully guided into Mrs. Carson’s office where the papers awaited only his signature. As they went in I overheard her mention there may also be a case she could use his help on - and the help of his ‘prestigious law firm’. Unfortunately she closed the office’s door before I could hear anything more and a bouncing Danielle distracted me with a squealing embrace.

“He’s gonna sign! Oh my god, I was so sure he’d refuse! And I can’t believe you told him who you were!”

I laughed. “Hi to you too! Slow down, hon, and don’t forget to breathe.”

Mrs. Shugendo cleared her throat. “First things first, young lady. We have a room for you in Dickinson Cottage; I presume you have some luggage waiting in the hired car?”

“Hmm?” She released her hold on my ribs. “Oh, yes! I’ve got a bag of stuff; not a lot, though, Uncle Isaiah didn’t let me pack everything. He’ll probably ship more out.”

“You don’t need much,” I said. “We all have to wear uniforms anyway.” I gestured down at my blouse and skirt.

Mrs. Shugendo magically produced a school I.D. card with Danielle’s picture on it. I gave the dean a suspicious look, but she just smiled back professionally. I guess both she and Carson had been confident that Isaiah would be won over. If I was a paranoid sort, I’d have wondered if my appointment with Kirov to get my updated schedule hadn’t been deliberately timed for me to see Danielle and Isaiah arrive.

Nah, that had to have been coincidence.

Handing Danielle her new passport to all things Whateley, Mrs. Shugendo said, “Have Miss Emrys take you to Dickinson and help you with your things. Your I.D. has already been activated to work at the cafeterias; I suggest you both get some dinner and then come back here by six-thirty so you can say your goodbyes to Mr. Cohen. I believe Mrs. Carson intends to dine with him while discussing other matters.”

“Other matters?” My brow furrowed suspiciously.

Mrs. Shugendo raised an eyebrow of her own in response. “School matters, Miss Emrys. Move along, you two.”

“Hmph,” I said. “C’mon, Danielle. Let’s get your stuff.”

She looked between me and Mrs. Shugendo in consideration before she agreed. “Yeah, okay!”

We trooped out of the office and down the stairs to where the bored driver was trying to nap. Danielle giggled as she rapped loudly on the trunk. “Wake up, dude! I want my things!”

The guy stumbled out of the car, looking at us both in some confusion. “Where’s Mr. Cohen?”

“He’s got a dinner date with the Headmistress,” I said. “If you need to eat, hit one of the restaurants. He’ll be back some time after six-thirty.”

“I…oh. Thanks.”

He popped the trunk and Danielle grabbed her travel bag.

“Your cottage is this way - around Kane Hall there and close to Dunn.” I pointed in the general direction.

She nodded, but her mind was stuck on other things. “Jordan? You told Isaiah who you were! I thought the DPA said that could mess things up.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, he needed to know. Pretty sure Kirov even let the whole ‘being an angel’ thing out of the bag as well, but Isaiah was too lost in thought on the way back over to talk about it. There are also some questions about what the DPA has been up to about all this. More importantly, you okay? Sounds like the past couple weeks were pretty crazy.”

“Oh my god, you have no idea. Child Services filed court motions to stop Uncle Mark from getting custody! And wow, I’ve never seen your friend Isaiah so mad as when Mark called about it. He was livid! He pulled an all-night typing marathon and marched into court the next day. He refused to let me go with him, so I had to spend the day with his secretary, Tracy. She’s nice.”

“I hope he took his blood pressure medicine properly during all of that.” When we were younger we could pull all-nighters and suffer practically no ill-effects, but those days were long gone. Isaiah had already worked himself into one heart attack a few years back (which he had joked was a rite of passage for all serious attorneys) - all of this new stress had better not trigger another one.

Which just left me feeling even more guilty about having not told him earlier that I was alive. Crap.

“He seemed okay, just tired. But, as he put it, he ‘totally kicked ass’ in court - shutting down their motion, preventing the MCO from dragging the DPA into it further, and protecting me by taking custody. We talked before he did that too - he said it’d be my choice, but made sure I knew what was going on and the risks before I decided. Uncle Mark is really sad about it, though, I could hear it in his voice when we spoke on the phone.”

“Is Mark alright? He get out of the hospital yet?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he’s doing better. Stuck at a desk at work, but busy. He wouldn’t say on what, of course. I had lunch with him there a few times.”

“You went back to the DPA?”

“Diego wanted to start my magic training, and Isaiah agreed it was a good idea.”

“He did? Even after the custody fiasco?”

She grinned. “After I accidentally filled his living room with snow when taking a nap, yeah.”

I stopped walking. “Wait a minute, I thought I was the trigger for you doing that.”

Pausing her own step, she shook her head. “You were - but then I started having these dreams.” She looked off to the side. “They’re…they’re kind of intense.”

Frowning, I asked, “How so?”

She stared over my shoulder towards the late afternoon sun. “Diego thinks they’re from a previous lifetime. We think my spirit was a sidhe in the distant past - and between my mutation plus the whole crazy ritual abduction thing and the power overload, it’s woken up.”

The implications started to sink in. “Are you-”

“Am I okay?” she interrupted. “Yeah, I’m alright. I’ve even learned some magic from those memories, which is pretty cool. Diego said that he knows other sidhe have gone to school here, and that the teachers would have experience on how best to help me with it all. It’s just…weird, I guess. I have moments where I feel like I’m someone else, you know? Yet I’m still me.” She shrugged.

I stared at her. Was this the same little girl who had clutched at my hand only a couple months back? She’d been through yet another scary episode when Soren kidnapped her, but now she stood there exuding a cautious confidence and those new icy-pale eyes held a spark of firm determination.

“Speaking of feeling like you’re someone else, how are you doing?” she asked. “With the whole, uhm, transformation thing. I mean, you look great - and really natural in that skirt.” She giggled, prompting me to stick my tongue out at her.

“I’m still me, if that’s what you’re asking. Just slowly getting more used to it all. It’s been a busy couple weeks for me too, actually.” I smiled.

“Really? How so?”

Visions of Evie’s dark projections and Tamara’s demon flashed within my mind. “Eh, I’ll fill you in later. Most importantly is that Khan is doing well! He’s been making friends with everyone in my cottage, pretty sure he’s more popular than I am.”

She laughed. “That’s no surprise, he’s an awesome kitty.”

“You better believe it! Now, let’s get you to your new room. You’ll probably have a roommate too.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Hope she’s nice.”

~o~O~o~

Danielle’s roommate was polite, albeit non-forthcoming on details about herself. She appeared to be Japanese but had a west coast accent and said she was from Seattle. Her name was Haruko Kurohoshi, and she was a freshman like Danielle.

I wondered if the girl was disappointed that she had been assigned a roommate at the last moment instead of having the room to herself for the term. She didn’t say anything to that effect, but she certainly stared at us both rather intently. I even wondered if I had started glowing or something, but nope - she was watching Danielle just as cautiously.

Haruko also had a set of Japanese swords on a stand resting atop her dresser: a katana and a wakazashi. With the way the wrappings on the hilt showed the wear of use, I didn’t think the blades were merely decorative. She had been reclining on a bed reading a Japanese manga book when we arrived, and hadn’t gotten up.

While Danielle busily unpacked her suitcase (which I swear must have been a Tardis or a Bag of Holding, because good grief more things came out of it than could possibly have fit in there), I got the sheets onto her bed, clean cases on her pillows, and the blankets all set up. Once that was done I took a seat on the comforter in cross-legged bemusement while Danielle changed her mind at least five times as to which drawers in her dresser should hold what items, and whether her metal band poster (Iced Earth) was better suited to be over the desk, or maybe over the bed, or even perhaps the empty wall space next to the door on her side of the room.

In the middle of these indecisions Haruko spoke up after having remained silent since the initial introductions.

“Neither of you are human.” Haruko hadn’t even taken her eyes off her book to say this.

Danielle and I quickly glanced at each other, then at Haruko. Danielle asked, “How can you tell?”

Haruko waved a hand casually. “Your auras.” She pointed first to Danielle. “You’re obviously a fae of some kind, likely full sidhe even. All your clothes are either silk or pure cotton from what I can see.”

Without waiting for Danielle to acknowledge the statement, Haruko turned serious and introspective eyes towards me. “As for you, at first I thought you might be a dragon, but that’s not right. If I had to guess, I’d say a kami of some kind.”

“A ‘kami’? What’s that?” Danielle asked.

This I thought I knew. “Isn’t that Japanese for a god?”

Haruko nodded. “A god or goddess, deity, a principle, yes. Also, my dad’s first name.” She grinned.

“Interesting name.”

“He’s an interesting guy. But don’t try and change the subject, fess up!” She tapped fingers against her book expectantly.

I sighed. “They say I’m an angel, and I’m running out of excuses to disbelieve it.”

That earned a smug smile of satisfaction. “Then I was right.”

“So what are you, then?” Danielle asked with curiosity.

With a shrug Haruko replied, “Human.”

Frowning, I opened my mystical sight to take a look at Danielle’s new roommate, or at least her energies. Lines of dark blues, purples, and greens swirled around her - she was obviously a practitioner of some kind - but oddly all the lines were pulled towards her mid-section. An energy formation the size of a bowling ball sat there, and it was slowly sucking in all the energy Haruko’s spirit was generating.

“Human, sure,” I said, “but a magical one. And what the heck is sitting inside you?”

“You can see that?” Haruko sat up, turning on the bed so her feet dangled off the side as she placed her hands protectively on her stomach. “It’s my egg,” she said proudly.

“You’re pregnant?” Danielle boggled, while I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. The bowling ball - I mean, ‘the egg’ - was definitely attached to Haruko’s spirit and feeding off of her. But just on the excess, if that makes sense. Haruko, as a wizard or mage, had extra energy beyond the lifeforce needed to live and the egg was slurping it up.

“In a sense, yes,” Haruko said. “I’m an avatar - and I’m host to a dragon egg. Someday it will hatch and then I’ll have my own dragon just like my dad.” She grinned at the thought, rubbing at her stomach before she made a rueful face. “Until it does, though, I can’t cast any magic or do anything other than see things. All my mana is feeding the egg so it can grow. Dad says I should be able to do stuff even he can’t do, because my dragon and I will bond even deeper this way.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool.” Danielle grinned. “We’ll probably be in the same magic classes, neat!”

Haruko shrugged again. “At least the non-lab one, unless my egg hatches this year - though Dad said it could take a few.”

I smiled. “I’m only in the starting ‘Principles of Magic’ class too; this is my first year here. They banned me from the regular lab.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why?”

Danielle snickered. “Probably to keep other students from exploding. Hey, you hungry? We should totally go eat!”

Haruko stared with even more interest. “Sure, I’ll go. But I want to hear more about students blowing up.”

I groaned as I hopped off the bed, causing Danielle to giggle all the louder as we went out the door.

~o~O~o~

Both freshmen were overwhelmed with the variety of food offerings and couldn’t decide what to get. Haruko seemed rather pleased at the selection of sushi, and Danielle gushed over the salad and vegetable bar. That was a total surprise, as only a few weeks ago I had needed to cajole and plead to get her to eat anything green. She had declared at the time that holding a chicken nugget in each hand achieved a balanced diet.

As for my own choices, it was no contest when I spotted lamb kabobs and Greek salad on the menu. The freshly grilled onions, peppers, and mushrooms looked particularly delectable. Thus I was first to escape the cavalcade of possibilities and grabbed an open table, being sure to take one down in the freshmen area.

Naturally I had just taken a large and juicy bite when Jenna piped up from behind, her tray overflowing with steak, mashed potatoes laden with butter and sour cream, and a healthy helping of caramelized green beans.

“You do know the junior tables are further up, right?” She grinned and plonked her tray down next to mine.

“Mrmmph,” I acknowledged before I could finish chewing. “Yeah, but a…a friend of mine is starting here as a freshman. She just arrived and is with her new roomie getting food.”

“Friend, huh? Cool! Known her long?” Jenna asked casually and vigorously attacked her plate.

I tried to think fast. “Distantly, yeah. Her mutation first hit when she was younger, but apparently kicked up a notch recently. I was surprised to see her moving in earlier to Dickinson.”

“Last minute, eh? She’ll be busy tomorrow running around getting her schedule and everything, what with classes starting again.” Jenna scrunched her face.

I laughed. “You’re not looking forward to the start of the school year?”

“What, me? Not exhilarated at the prospect of sitting at desks designed for smaller kids, homework, quizzes, and boring teachers? Never.”

Puzzled, I asked, “They won’t get you a larger desk? I’d have thought they would accommodate those with such needs.”

She sighed. “Oh they do, but it’s always a hassle at each class. If there’s more than like two of us over six feet then it’s a scramble as to who gets the larger ones that are there, and then requisitioning more requires a form that needs signatures and stuff. I’m tall, but some are much bigger. Like Tank.”

The mental visual of Brendan, a.k.a Tank, trying to fit his seven and half foot tall frame into a child’s desk got me to snicker. “Yeah, he’d break anything normal sized just by trying to sit.”

She nodded and chewed a hunk of beef before swallowing. “He’s thinking of forming a combat team this year - and he asked me to join it.”

“Combat team?”

“Yeah. Students can form teams and practice fighting in the sims, you know, learning group tactics and strategies. That extra training can really help out in the combat finals.”

Once again I was reminded of how unusual this school really was. The closest to ‘team combat training’ at my old high school was probably the water polo squad. Given the bruises I’d seen on the players, the term really could apply.

“Actually,” she continued, “he wanted me to talk to you about it too.”

“Me?” I paused, suspending a fork and its tasty bite o’ lamb.

“Yep.” She nodded. “We were discussing what happened in the gym, from when I kicked you through the wall? And he said he had some ideas about your powers and how they could really help make a team something awesome.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not even allowed to practice doing stuff with others around. It’s dangerous.”

“He knows that, but hey, all it did was make me a lot stronger. He’s wondering what other powers it could boost. And if you could control it…?” She left the thought dangling, but there was clear excitement in her voice about the possibilities.

I pondered the implications. If I could master the ability, and grant more ‘boost’ as she put it to a teammate, the results could be…oh. Ah shit. “Jenna, don’t talk about that with anyone else, okay?”

She looked at me funny. “What?”

“A power amplifier. That’s what he’s thinking? I hadn’t thought of it that way, but if he’s right? It would paint an ‘X’ on my back for every supervillain in the world to try to kidnap and force me to power up whatever abilities they, or their henchmen, have. Think about it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she considered the ramifications.

To drive the point further, I added, “The only way to compel me to do that for them would either be mind control - or taking those I care about hostage.”

She paled. “Oh.”

Giving her a rueful smile I said, “It was an interesting idea, really it was. But long term? Best kept under wraps, and maybe left untried.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I agree. You should practice it, even if just in secret. Leaving any potential advantage undeveloped is foolish. Sensei Ito, in fact all the teachers here, would agree. Both Brendan and myself would be willing to volunteer to help you out, at the least.”

Dang. She had a point. “But not as part of an official combat team.”

That got her to grin again. “Fair enough. Maybe we could work something out with the powers testing techs, all ‘off the record’ and such.”

“Might need Kirov’s supervision, or even another protective circle to help. Aha, there’s Danielle and her new roomie!”

I waved at the pair as they emerged from the mass of students who had descended upon the cafeteria lines in a sudden rush of hungry adolescents. Haruko spotted me first, nudging Danielle to change directions and they started to walk across the Hall.

They were halfway over to us when a disdainful voice caused Danielle to stop.

“Oh great. They let a sidhe go here?”

Danielle turned towards the source, a boy perhaps fourteen or fifteen with a thick scraggly mop of red hair barely held back by a rubber band in a makeshift ponytail. “You have a problem with sidhe?” she asked frostily, her pale eyes matching her tone.

The boy stood up and moved to block her path as his expression hardened. He was taller than her, still lanky but clearly well-muscled under a charcoal Minnesota Vikings t-shirt. “Yeah, maybe I do.”

Danielle, undeterred, stared up at him. “And why would that be?”

The boy tightened a fist. “Because not all humans have forgotten your tyrannies.”

She tilted her head. “Tyrannies?”

He took a step closer. “I know the stories, passed down in my family for generations. You sidhe treated us humans as slaves - or worse.”

I saw her hesitate, and just for a moment a flicker of…was that guilt? But her expression sharpened, emphasizing the angular fae features all the more. “That was a long time ago.”

Even among the chaotic blend of auras in the room, I sensed Danielle gathering energy from all around her.

Not good.

I was halfway out of my seat before Jenna’s strong hand shoved me back down. Jenna shook her head at me, mouthing ‘not yet’. Chewing a lip hard I acquiesced and stayed put.

“Time alone does not merit forgiveness, elf.” The boy smirked. He opened the fist and with a gesture the air shimmered between them before solidifying as if made of glass. The edge of Danielle’s food tray was nudged by the manifestation. “In fact, why don’t you eat outside somewhere else.”

One of the guys at this boy’s table said, “Magnus, dude…”

“Shut it, Ken,” Magnus snarled. “The sidhe aren’t human and would enslave us again if they could. Isn’t that right, elf?”

A light dusting of snow swirled about Danielle, her skin going even paler than that of the light-skinned redhead blocking her path. Her voice was quiet, yet pierced the room all the same. “I’ve spent practically my whole life dealing with the prejudice of others because of being a mutant. And now, after all those years, I’m finally at a place that’s supposed to be supportive…and you’re throwing more prejudicial bullshit in my face? Because of my specific mutation?” The anger in her voice grew with each word.

The boy snorted. “Manifested sidhe were never human to begin with, changeling. Those with the Sight know the difference is all the way in the soul.” His shoulders tensed with further concentration and the air to her sides glinted as well, the glassy barrier expanding around and leaving only one path open behind her.

She gave him an evaluating look as if measuring his power - or his worth. It wasn’t an expression that belonged on a fourteen year old.

My jaw clenched with worry. Danielle’s appearance reminded me of Circe’s disapproval as she had stood over me in the forest while detailing her opinion of my actions that day. It was a face full of age, wisdom, and ruthlessness.

“And you think you can enforce such a banishment?” Danielle’s voice shifted - every word becoming crisp and focused, and each dripping with disdain at the temerity of her accuser.

Magnus puffed himself up so he could tower even taller over her. “I’m not afraid of a little snow. You can’t breach my barriers, they’re immune to fae magic.” On closer examination each snowflake was fading immediately upon contact with the glassy walls.

Her lips curled into a small cruel smile. “Oh you foolish boy, it’s not the snow a warrior needs fear in winter. Fires may warm your toes, but if you are not prepared? Why, you simply starve.”

She didn’t move but I saw it. A spell flowed into the floor right under the barrier between her and Magnus, and up through the shoes and into his feet.

What the hall heard, however, was Magnus’ stomach emit a mighty gurgle. His eyes went wide as all concentration vanished - taking with it his manifested barriers. A blank and needful expression fell onto the salad-filled plate on Danielle’s tray.

She laughed. “You’ll find no meat on this plate, warrior. But look - your own has plenty.” She pointed back at his own steak and french-fries filled tray, and with a groan Magnus charged at it to grab huge handfuls of beef, stuffing it all into his face like a starved animal.

Danielle stepped around him as if he was no longer worthy of her consideration. Haruko, who had been standing behind her the whole time, quietly slid a small jade knife back into her sleeve before catching up.

By the time Danielle reached my table and sat down, her expression had returned to her usual self and seemed utterly unconcerned by what had just happened. “Hiya Jordan! You going to introduce me to your friend?” She waved at Jenna with a happy grin.

Jenna and I gave each other a look. Back at Magnus’ table the boy hadn’t stopped with his own food, and was now starting a brawl with his buddies due to trying to steal all of theirs. When they managed to shove him off, he attacked the plates at a nearby table of girls who shrieked mightily at the assault on their dinners.

As upper-classmen attempted to subdue him, Magnus’ eyes rolled up in his head and he began swinging in a mindless rage. He fought and struggled against the holds piled on him until security showed up, tasered him, and carried him out of the cafeteria.

Danielle shrugged, turning to her salad. “Huh. Didn’t realize he was a berserker type.” Then she caught my glare, and had the grace to give a sheepish grin. “Oops?”

Jenna burst out laughing, clasping a hand on Danielle’s shoulder. “That was great! I’m Jenna, by the way.”

I just sat there stunned by what I had just witnessed.

This was going to be a very weird year.

~o~O~o~

Right as we were finishing our now-peaceful meal, a security officer returned to take our statements about what had occurred. Danielle professed naive innocence - as whatever spell she had used had already dissipated before Magnus could be examined by any magic experts. Nothing specific could therefore be proven.

Haruko commented she saw a spell rise from the floor under the ‘big lunkhead’, but that she couldn’t identify the source. Jenna mentioned how Magnus had insulted all the sidhe students at the school, of which there were a few, and any one of them could have done it.

I kept my mouth shut.

Clearly irritated, the security officer re-iterated to Danielle the prohibitions against casting magic on other students and marched off with a scowl.

Once he was gone the other girls giggled loudly.

“Well, I need to get going,” Danielle said as she stood up. “I better get unpacked and hopefully meet everyone else on my floor.”

Haruko rose with her.

“I’ll come visit you and Khan tomorrow, okay?” Danielle said.

“You’re going to be busy, hon. You need to get your uniform, sort out your classes, get your books, and you should attend as many social event things for freshmen as you can. You’re gonna be stuck with ‘em for the next four years after all.” I grinned.

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe in the evening?” She gave me a hug from behind as I was still seated.

Patting her arm, I said, “Sure. But only if you have time. And if you need me, you know where to find me, okay?”

“You bet!” With that she skipped and Haruko walked purposefully out of the cafeteria.

Jenna glanced at the clock hanging above the fray of hungry students. “Oh heck! I’m late!” She pushed her chair back, gathering up her tray which was overflowing with empty plates.

“Late? What for?” I was curious.

“Team meeting. With Brendan.” She flushed and to cover it up quickly blurted, “You want to come?”

“Nah, thanks though. I’ve got something else I need to do.”

“Alright.” She paused, realizing she couldn’t also give me a hug while holding everything.

I laughed. “Get going, silly.”

“Bye!” She hurried off and I quickly followed suit to get back to Hawthorne.

I hadn’t joined in on all the laughter about what had happened with Magnus, for what I had seen in Danielle bothered me. I mulled over my observations on the walk back to my cottage, but in the end simply sighed from not being sure what one could do about past-life personalities poking through into the present.

A package I had asked Mrs. Cantrel (Hawthorne Cottage’s house mother) to order for me had arrived earlier and now seemed as good a time as any to deliver it to the intended recipient. Said recipient might even be able to offer advice on how best to help Danielle with this new twist on what had happened to her that fateful day in Los Angeles.

Thus after retrieving the package I found myself standing again in Kirby Hall outside a faculty member’s office, this time holding a medium-sized (and still sealed) box. I had overheard earlier that most faculty would have extended hours tonight to help deal with last-minute class scheduling. And no, it wasn’t Rabbi Kirov’s spot again.

It was Circe’s.

Her office was behind a solid and closed wooden door sitting at the end of the hallway. Large elegant script was etched into the wood itself: ‘Mystical Arts - Chairman’s Office’. Yep, it was warded too as a quick shift of sight to the etherial side of things revealed a dizzying array of Greek words blending into loops and patterns of mostly dark brown, greens, and cyan.

Deciding knocking first might be a good idea, I did so and was careful not to leave any dents by accident.

A commanding voice calmly replied from within. “Enter.”

Easily holding the package with one hand, I opened the door and went in. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see in the office of perhaps the world’s oldest legendary sorceress, but I will admit surprise.

It was much like the office of any of the professors at my old college. Standard desk with a monitor and keyboard next to papers stacked in neat piles at the edges, the usual utilitarian bookshelves full of journals, binders, and books of various sizes, plus some tasteful artworks of mountain or ocean views decorating the few spots of otherwise empty wall-space.

No pots of strange herbs, cauldrons, or odd-shaped flasks emitting dangerous fumes, nothing like that at all.

“Ms. Emrys.” Circe sat in a modern executive leather chair, dark and curly hair pulled back in a frizzy ponytail. In her hands was a Chinese-food take-out container and a pair of chopsticks. I’d obviously interrupted her dinner.

“Uh, hi. Mind if I come in?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “I already said to enter. Is there some difficulty with your schedule?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Actually, I came here to give you this.” I hefted the box a little higher.

Frowning, she set her food on the desk and walked over to take the package from me. “What is it?”

I stumbled for words. “A bit of an apology of sorts, and also a thank you.”

Setting it down on one of the faded fabric guest chairs, she looked back at me. “Mind clarifying? Hand me the scissors from the shelf there.” She gestured towards, of all things, a white Tigger mug resting on one of the bookshelves from which was sticking forth a number of pens along with the handle to the aforementioned scissors.

I obliged and handed them over. “I feel we may have gotten off on the wrong foot the other week, what with the whole incident in the forest and all, honestly likely due to my smart mouth. And the thank you is for the outer circle forged on the floor of my bedroom.”

Cutting through the packing tape, she opened the top of the box - revealing the contents as being a single case of wine. Greek wine, to be precise.

Pulling out a bottle to examine the label, she chuckled. “Retsina. You do realize that trying to bribe one of your instructors is likely against school policy? And buying alcohol at your age illegal?”

Flushing slightly I muttered, “It’s not meant as a scholastic bribe, and I asked Mrs. Cantrel to order it for me. I’m well aware what my license says about my age, even if we both know better. And I expect you to grade me as fairly as any other student. I was merely hoping to clear the air, and if possible, talk to you.”

A woman who had witnessed thousands of years of humanity contemplated me for a moment, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. Putting the bottle back in the box, she gestured towards the other guest chair. “Why don’t you sit and tell me what’s on your mind?”

We both sat while I tried to organize my thoughts. “Too many things,” I began, words spilling out quickly and gaining further speed, “I mean - between this whole being-an-angel stuff and having the potential to be a danger to the campus if not the world, I keep wondering what you might know about Nick Wright or his former mentor Callas Soren and whatever dangerous game that guy is up to. Also about the MCO and it’s attempt to use Danielle’s guardianship as a pawn versus the DPA, plus there’s now a worry about Danielle and her being a sidhe with obviously a rather strong past life and what that could mean for her.” I inhaled deeply after that mouthful.

Circe put a hand on her desk, pausing before speaking. “You’ve had a lot of changes, all within a very short amount of time.”

I laughed, albeit with some bitterness. “That’s an understatement.”

“And yet everything you just mentioned is an external worry - either about others or your impact on them.”

“Crisis management. If your house is on fire and on the verge of collapse, worrying about having to wear a different style of underwear fades in importance, don’t you think? I’m just painfully aware of how little I know - and that’s what scares me.”

“A proper attitude in the short term, but longer term what isn’t dealt with will fester.”

“Yeah, it will. The trick, though, is surviving long enough for that to be a problem.”

She smiled. “True enough. So let’s tackle your list, shall we?” Looking at the ceiling, she contemplated her next statement.

“Angels, or Ángeloi in Greek - the messengers. I’m afraid I haven’t had much in the way of direct dealings with them, so not sure what to tell you other than what my own mentors, from rather long ago, told me.”

“Your mentors?” I asked curiously.

“You’d call them members of the Greek pantheon - gods and goddesses. Their advice when it came to the agents of El was simple: avoid them.”

I sighed. “Pretty sure I don’t have that option.”

“I was warned to beware their unleashed power, and that only some of them are genuinely concerned for this world. Also that there are angels…and then there are true powers. Like the archangels, manifestations or emanations of much wider energies and concepts.”

“Are they more powerful than the pagan gods?”

She shook her head. “It’s not an apt comparison. The deities of the Greek, Norse, Egyptian, or for that matter Hindu pantheons could be considered as more powerful on Earth during their heyday - in other words, more able to effect direct change here. It’s perhaps a matter of attunement of attention. Each - pagan deity or angelic - within their own bailiwick would likely be supreme, be it in their own realm, or level of awareness, describe it as you will.”

With a frown I said, “Yet you were concerned enough about my potential to oppose me attending the school - and then put in the ‘failsafe’ circle around my bed. What if you were right? What if I’m too much a danger to be here?”

Circe stared, dark eyes scanning and obviously seeing far beyond what even my own mystic sight provided. “You need to understand that each belief system has its own version of how the world was created, its own metaphor of emanation and the process thereof. Just as a Titan walking the world would be disastrous, so too would an angelic of sufficient power. A primal force, no matter its wrappings, is a potential threat. We’ll be discussing such beings and their impact on the world - like the Sundering - more in Mystic History.”

“Am I a ‘primal force’ then?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Great. Just great. “The Sundering? What’s that?”

“In short? It was a catastrophic event that wiped out most of the available magic in the world. It caused the Five-Fold Court that used to rule to collapse completely, the mystic creatures to flee or die outright, and all of this left the world to humanity.”

“The Five-Fold Court?” I had never heard of such a thing.

“Before the continents split off the five Courts ruled, formed between the royal fae, dragons, djinn, mer-folk, and at the center coordinated by the spirit of Gaia herself. But it degenerated, fragmenting amid internal strife, until the world broke apart - resulting in severe losses of magical energies. Enemies of peace - both from this world and from beyond - caused mass exodus and death, until only humans were left.”

“Oh. Is that like Noah’s flood?”

She shook her head. “No - that likely happened after. The fae were already gone by that point, as I understand it.”

“Huh.” More questions danced through my mind. “There was a kid in the cafeteria being a jerk to Danielle - I think his name was Magnus - he said that the sidhe once enslaved humanity. Is this true?”

Rubbing her forehead, she sighed. “I believe humans were treated as lesser beings, yes. And some of the royal courts were not very nice places. It is likely that many humans were, if not outright enslaved, at least treated as such.”

Crap. “I think Danielle is a reincarnation of one - of a sidhe. She thinks so too.”

“Mutants have taken on the external appearance of the ancient sidhe, but not all are truly fae. In Danielle’s case, however, either she is or she has a piece of the spirit of one. Unfortunately such things are always hard to determine. Has something happened to confirm her theory?”

“Uh, earlier tonight I got a strong glimpse of her previous personality. I think she was a power of some kind - and old.”

Circe pursed her lips. “We’ve had other students who have struggled with integrating such past experiences or the spirit shards that contain them. Did Danielle mention her dreams?”

“Actually, yes. She says she’s learned some magic from them too.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll inform her teachers and they will work with her to help her through it. Have her also let us know if this former being, to her, seems separate - as in a different presence in her mind. That could indicate having a spirit shard entwined with her own, as opposed to being a full reincarnate. As for how all this can affect the girl you have known, that will depend on the strength of her own will - whether the old personality and worldview will end up dominating or whether Danielle, immersed in our modern world, will maintain. But realize that the best outcome for her is likely a merger of the two. Danielle is young and children at such an age are already going through a lot of growth and change. The benefit is that they are therefore extremely adaptable, especially when given the right support. Be there for her, listen to her, and let her explore who she is - and who she may become. Try not to hold on to who she was; that’s a mistake many parents make even under normal circumstances. And warn her not to make use of any techniques she sees in her dreams without expert guidance, or the results can be unpredictable.”

I nodded. “Okay, not sure if she’ll listen, but I’ll tell her.” What she said about it all made sense, though the thought of Danielle becoming haughty and superior like in the cafeteria didn’t sit well with me. But what star student or athlete didn’t get on an ego kick unless the parents (and even friends) managed things properly?

Shaking my head, I tried to move to the next item from my list of many worries. “What about Nick and Soren? Nick mentioned having once been your student here, and that Soren was a guest lecturer at the time.”

“Mmm. Nick was a precocious young man, albeit a sharp one. I believe he ran into trouble with certain authorities in college and was somewhat forcibly drafted into working with them. The details are not mine to share, so that’s all I’ll say about it. Soren, however, is an interesting individual - he’s lived a long time, and I suspect much longer than he admitted to me.”

“How long was that?”

Circe picked up the box of Chinese take-out (which was probably cold by now, oops), and poked at it with the chopsticks. “Well, let’s just say we had differing viewpoints and opinions about a number of Roman emperors.”

“That’s pretty old. Uh…no offense.”

“None taken.” She chuckled. “I got over being the oldest person in any room a long time ago.”

“Any idea what Soren would be up to? And why the heck he’d do this to me?” I gestured at my body and all its new feminine glory.

“The man always struck me as someone who wished to be perceived as the ultimate neutral - working with heroes and villains both, trading information and knowledge. But under it all, there was a sense of being deeply driven by some specific quest. Whatever it was it gave the very meaning to his existence. You have to understand that for those like him and me, living as long as we have, we each need a reason to keep on going. Many who have the power to do so lose the will to continue over time, allowing themselves finally to end. For some of us we redefine that reason with each age we live through - adapting and growing, choosing the next thing as we go.”

She swallowed a noodle, then added, “For Soren - whatever his reason is - I don’t think it ever changed. It’s the same now as it was when he was doing deals with the Roman bureaucrats, or with the medieval feudal lords and popes, or perhaps even the ancient Pharaohs. He does his best to never let it show, but you don’t live as long as I have and not learn to read people - even people as careful and skilled as he is.”

“In other words,” I said, “he didn’t do this to Danielle and me lightly or on a lark.”

“No. Through you, he’s manifested an angel here on Earth. The repercussions of such a feat are likely to be profound.”

“Do you still think I’m a threat to the school?” I asked her bluntly. I had to know.

She paused, a bit of noodle clamped between the sticks in her hands. “Yes.”

My heart sank.

“Don’t take it personally, Jordan. You are caught up in something that far exceeds yourself.”

“Should I leave? Go hide out somewhere?”

“Events will seek you out without you doing anything to invite them no matter where you are. You are marked by circumstance - and nothing you can do will prevent them from unfolding. The only thing you can do is try to be ready as best you can. Learn from the rabbi, learn from me and your other teachers, explore your dreams for insights, and practice your arts diligently. The school has accepted the risk of your presence, now make the most of it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Circe’s office door opened and a young boy with a disheveled mop of dark hair stepped inside. Seeing us both he froze, afraid of interrupting.

I took that as my cue and stood up. “Thank you for talking with me. And I guess I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

She smiled. “That you will.”

As I moved past the boy (who was now staring at me, with eyes most definitely NOT looking at my face), Circe called out to me again.

“And Jordan?” I glanced back and caught her grin. “Next time you want to bring me a gift, I’d prefer a nice scotch. While the modern production is a lot better, wine from ancient Greece mostly tasted like pine-soaked shoe leather. It was just safer to drink than the water.”

“Oh. I, uh, right…good to know.”

Nodding to the boy now too baffled by the thought of a student giving teachers booze to keep all attention on my chest, I walked out.

~o~O~o~

After such a day, I was glad to get back to my room for a quieter evening of playing fetch and chase with Khan. Eventually he decided I was too tired to continue and graciously spread out on the bed, expecting me to do the same while giving him belly rubs. He also kept lovingly head-butting at my forehead as if to say that everything was fine and to stop worrying so much - because how bad could it be since he was there with me?

He made a strong case.

The phone rang and interrupted our rather serious mutual effort to watch how much kitty fluff could waft through the air just from scritches. It was Isaiah, he was downstairs and ‘requesting permission to ascend’. Mrs. Cantrel must have stopped him from simply going on up - she had him on speaker and verified that it was okay. As tempting as it was to give him the run around as payback for his earlier grilling, the idea was too tiring.

My friend came up and I let him in before remembering I had already gotten comfortable - in other words I was wearing only sweat pants and an over-sized girl’s ‘sleeper’ t-shirt. This one had the face of a blue dragon on the front, and judging by how his eyes tried to pop out of his head my new figure must really have made it look three dimensional. Have I mentioned yet that Isaiah always had a thing for pretty redheads? Yeah, well, whatever he had been thinking about on the way up in the elevator clearly had gone right out onto the balcony because he marched straight over to look for them through the glass.

“I…I’ll be heading to the airport here shortly,” he said after managing to find his tongue. Khan hadn’t moved, and therefore was obviously innocent of stealing it.

“Gotcha.” Sitting cross-legged back on the bed I pulled a pillow into a hug in an attempt to cover up a bit more.

His reaction as he turned around left little doubt that the maneuver had backfired. “This is incredibly awkward, you know,” he said in a strangled tone. “You looking like that. Sitting on a bed no less.”

With a groan I buried my face into the pillow.

“I’ll say this much, you certainly do look the part.” He chuckled.

“The part?” I looked up.

“Of an angel.”

“Oh.” We hadn’t had the chance yet to discuss that bit of information, but it was a much safer topic so I went with it. “I don’t think that’s really settled in yet. Who knows, maybe they’re all wrong anyway.”

He moved over and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “The rabbi seemed rather certain.”

“It’s not like I’ve got wings or anything,” I muttered.

“Wings don’t make an angel.”

“Oh, like you’re an expert on angels now?”

He laughed. “Hardly, though I believe I will endeavor to do some research. As, from the titles of the books on your shelves, you’ve already started to.”

“Trying. There’s not a lot that’s coherent about them.”

“You’ll figure it out. Also, out of your entire crazy story? That much makes sense.”

“Angels make sense? You lost me there.”

He shook his head. “Not angels in general. You.”

“Okay, now I’m totally confused. Because from where I sit? The universe of logic and reason got kicked to the curb weeks ago.”

“You being an angel. It fits.” He watched my face intently.

Whereupon I managed to furiously blush. The pillow required further inspection via re-insertion of face.

“It’s true, Justin…Jordan. Sorry. Look, we’ve been good friends, like brothers, for a long time. I’ve seen you go through some awful things - just like you’ve seen me do the same. Between that and throwing the worst I could come up with at you whenever I was running the game sessions, I believe I’ve gotten a pretty good glimpse of who you are.”

“I screw up all the time, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sighing, I turned one cheek to the pillow so I could at least see him.

He was grinning. “And that is indeed part of why I’m right. Granted the whole situation you’ve found yourself in is utterly nuts, and you better stay damned focused to get through this. I’ll help as best I can, of course.”

“Thanks. And thanks for saving Danielle from the MCO and Child Services. I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.”

“You would have raised hell to get it sorted out. Given everything that’s happened, maybe literally!” he said with another chuckle. “Anyway, I need to go and catch that last flight home. I already said goodbye to Danielle, she’s a good kid.”

“The best.” Putting the pillow aside, I slipped out of the bed. Usually we’d part ways with a solid bro-hug, but the situation now had us standing there like idiots. I offered him a hand instead.

He took it and made an effort to hold on with a stronger grip than his instincts were clamoring for. “Whatever you need to go be, be it. Embrace it. Just work to understand it all as deeply as possible - and always remember: you are not alone. Take care, Jordan.”

“You too.”

With that my best friend departed.

As a lawyer he was fearsome and utterly relentless, but underneath? Underneath the jerk had gotten me crying again. I blamed the pillow. Totally its fault.

I mean that.

All through brushing my teeth and readying for bed thoughts kept returning to Isaiah’s statement about understanding everything. There were just too many questions. What exactly did it mean to be an angel? And perhaps more immediately relevant, what did it mean to be one manifested on Earth? I was pretty sure even the rabbi didn’t have any good answers for that.

I drifted off to sleep full of those kinds of questions. You know, just like every night since this mess all started.

Consistency is important, right?

 

Chapter 3 - Assignment

 

Clouds dark and full of moisture flitted past, parting to reveal a crimson sun dropping below a horizon outlined by far distant waters lying beyond tall barriers of earth and stone. A snow-crested mountaintop dominated the scene as its peaks raced upwards, all veering off to one side to reveal a secluded valley. Unlike others nearby it was not covered in snow but instead full of verdant vegetation with brilliant flowers arranged in rows and sections that bespoke of a master’s hand cultivating each and every growth with purpose and deliberation.

Wanting to examine things further, I found I could not - for in this dream I had no control.

I was but a witness.

 

Damp earth caressed her toes as they alighted to the earth and soft wings reminiscent of a dove’s folded across her back. An elegant hand reached out to caress the petals of a single flower - one white and echoing the shade of her own feathers.

She smiled taking in its fragrance and beauty, reddish-copper hair falling forward over a shoulder as she did.

Behind her an entirely different shade of red cast a harsher ambiance upon the surroundings, for her companion’s still out-stretched wings were not white, neither were they gentle. Sharply edged feathers withdrew, glistening in the setting sun as if wet and dripping with the blood whose color they bore. Feet, bound in black leather and gold, hovered above the surface in refusal of landing.

He spoke first. “I sense nothing. How can you be so sure the Second is here?”

“You look with your eyes, but I see with my heart. He is here.”

A grunt of acknowledgment was given. “Will he agree to aid us?”

“There are times when asking the question is more important than the answer. Now, give me a moment.”

Closing eyes of emerald, she stood and slowly turned, sweeping arms in a graceful circle before stopping with a warm smile. “This way.”

They passed through the fields - through the well-tended rainbow effusion of flowers, wending their path between low-height shrubberies until meandering between ancient trees of oak and pine. Despite their shared feature of wings, they could not have been more different: her skin pale under a gown of iridescent ivory trimmed with gold, whereas he was armored in a polished obsidian breastplate sitting atop leathers only one shade lighter than his dark skin. Where her hair was bound by a thin circlet of shining ivy, his crown was more a helm with plates covering his face leaving only a T-shaped slit for eyes and nose. A single raven braid fell between his wings to bounce against the scabbarded weapon beside it.

Reaching the end of the valley, she guided them along the bottom edge of the boulders lining stones that thrust upwards to form the surrounding mountains. A shimmering blue stream trickled from out of the rocks, but closer inspection revealed a much larger opening nearby leading deeper into a dark cave.

Within that cavern an unwelcoming presence emanated waves of raw displeasure. Her companion shifted, a hand moving up to grasp the hilt of the sword.

Ignoring the feeling, she called out in a voice loud yet tender. “Beliel, my brother, might we come in and visit? We’ve come a long way.”

There was a long silence, but she gestured for her companion to wait even further.

Finally a deep booming response echoed outward. “You, I know. Him, I do not.”

“He is Camael, of the House of Light, Regent of the Seat the First left behind.”

A gruff grunt declared, “Only you may enter.”

The one named Camael turned to her. Under his breath he said, “I mislike this, Lady Gabriel. Your safety is my task. And he is…” The angel left the rest unspoken.

Placing a hand on a tall shoulder, she smiled at her defender. “I am as safe with him as I am with you, dear Camael. Worry not, but do wait here.”

Eyes unhappy behind the helm, a reluctant nod was given.

Bending over to pick up the muddy train of a once pure dress, Gabriel entered the caverns below, picking her steps carefully over the loose stones and gravel lining the path. While there was no light beneath the earth, she had no problems making her way deeper and deeper until reaching the large cavern underneath the mountain.

A presence barely fitting inside the cave shifted its weight with an exhalation that would have knocked a lesser being off their feet.

Still smiling, she shook her head. “Are you going to tower over me from up there in the dark the entire conversation, or can we at least be comfortable?”

Another grunt answered, though this time more of uncertain embarrassment. Air rushed in from the entrance as the immense presence shifted, shrinking itself down. A fireplace wedged into the cave-wall roared into fiery manifestation with smoke curling upward through a separate passage carved into the roof of the nook.

Mighty claws had done the work of excavating the space, leaving marks of their efforts upon the stones. A single broad wooden chair sat before the fireplace covered in the pelts of at least three dark bears. Against the wall near the fire was also a large pile of bones - of both beasts and men.

A tall figure cloaked in yet more furs stepped out into the light of the flames, a tall and imposing muscled human shape with a clean-shaven head and a face yielding a visage equally carved from stone.

“Oh, Beliel,” Gabriel said softly. “What did you do to your glorious hair?”

Powerful shoulders shrugged uncomfortably. “It kept getting muddy and stuck with twigs. You should sit.” He pointed to the only chair.

Folding the edges of her garment under her, she sat on the ground beside the oaken seat. “No, brother. That is yours.”

He glowered, as if not sure what to do or say. “Would you like tea? It’s all I have. Freshly gathered.”

“Whatever that is, it sounds lovely.”

Beliel moved over to the fire, hanging a beaten metal pot filled with water over the flames. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.” She watched as he bent over the fireplace, wincing when the fur over his shoulders parted revealing several scars upon his back. When he turned around, all traces of her sorrowful expression had vanished, again showing only warmth.

He shook his head. “You didn’t come down to Earth to see me.”

“Well no, you’ve got me there. I’m here for other reasons. But once I sensed that you were nearby, I had to come. Would it be wrong to mix business with the pleasure of seeing you once again?”

He picked up a large earthen mug, scowled further, and wiped it out with some linen that may or may not have been clean. “I don’t like visitors.” Grinning, he pointed towards the high pile of bones nearby. “And others don’t like it when they visit either.”

“Quite a collection. I doubt my own bones would add much to it.”

His eyes flashed with pain. “Not yours. Never yours.” Reaching into several leather pouches, he produced a variety of dried leaves and berries, crushing them into the empty mug.

“Honestly, brother,” she said while watching him work, “I could use your help.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, I could. I’ve been sent down here to deal with something - and, seeing as you’ve been here awhile, your insight and even your assistance would be very useful.”

The pot began to boil, and he casually picked it out of the fire with bare hands before pouring the bubbling and steaming liquid into the mug. Setting the red-hot pot aside, he offered the mug to Gabriel. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip of the heavily steaming concoction, and her face brightened immediately. “Why Beliel, this is marvelous!”

For a moment altogether too brief, a hint of a smile lightened his face. Her heart leapt with joy to even see that much.

“Yeah. It’s good. It’ll improve if you let it cool for a minute.” The thick wood of the chair creaked and groaned as he settled himself upon it, looking not at her but staring into the flames. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

She lowered the mug with a sigh, placing it beside her. “There’s an issue. With the Grigori.”

“The Grigori?”

“The Watchers were sent here to help the humans. With the disaster that befell this world and the loss of its manna - likely due to the world spirit’s slumber not to mention the more magically entwined races using up the reserves and thus for all practical purposes wiping themselves out - the humans are all that’s left to defend this realm from Beyond. It was agreed they needed guidance.”

He snorted. “The Council decided to meddle.”

“We couldn’t just leave them like that,” she protested. “The Primal Chaos needs to be countered at all levels, and this world was undefended.”

“And what ‘issue’ has occurred with these Grigori?”

“Well,” she hedged, “at first they only wanted to come home, even though their task was not yet complete.”

“Which was denied.”

“Yes, it was. They’d only been down here for a handful of days at that point.”

Beliel closed his eyes and rubbed a slow hand down his face. “And now? For Michael or the Council to send you here…”

“I volunteered. It was either that or Michael himself would have come.”

They both left it unsaid what that would have meant for the world.

Peering through broad fingers, he examined how she sat on the dusty floor, replaying in his mind her every move since arriving. “You’re scared by something, sister. And not by me.”

“Never of you,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “I’m scared by what they’ve done.”

“Tell me.”

“They’ve bred. With the humans.”

He blinked. And then he laughed, a hollow and empty laugh echoing from one end of the cave to the other.

“It is no laughing matter, brother,” she said quietly yet with an edge to her words.

“Yes, it is. The Council is blind to its own blindness. You - and they - forgot or never understood the differences in temporal perception between these lower realms and your own lofty perches.”

“What do you mean?”

“A handful of days for you there, safe in that blindingly bright city the Lightbringer and I built for you all, is thousands of trips around the primary of this lowly blue marble. Magnitudes more for realms further away such as Hell - which I came to know all too intimately before abandoning it for here. These Grigori likely wanted to go home because they’d been too long from it - too long from the Presence. And you denied them their return.”

Gabriel bit a lip, looking away from her brother and into the flames licking at blackened logs.

His voice became harsh. “You have no concept of what it is like to be denied the Presence, Gabriel. To be this distant from Him for such a timespan. You may as well have cut off their wings yourselves and thrown them down here like the rest of us.”

Her eyes flashed. “You were never cast out, brother - you left on your own. Before I could beg you to stay, like the First did before you.”

“After what I did, I may as well have been.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

The wooden end of his armrest snapped free in his hand, the sound cutting her off. They both stared at the shattered wood clenched in his fist.

“I will not speak of it.” He threw the splinters into the fire.

She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

A long awkward silence followed. He finally broke it by saying, “Your tea is getting cold.”

“So it is.” Gabriel picked up the mug again. “Beliel…you’ve been here awhile, I can tell that much. You know this world better than I. The one mortal we pulled to the Garden testified with his limited understanding of the state of things, but I need to figure out what to do about it all - how to handle these crossbreeds, these Nephelim. And how best to protect the humans.”

“Mankind breeds rapidly. They are also foolish and latch on to abominations.”

Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “How so?”

“Do you know why I keep this valley so secluded? Why I don’t go visit these beings and their glimmering little souls? I’ll tell you. Because I did once. I was spotted by them in passing while hunting wild beasts. They figured I must be a god, for they started leaving offerings of that which they had seen me hunt.”

“Sounds innocent enough.”

“You’d think that. Except I went away for a hundred years, having found something of interest elsewhere for that time. When I returned, well…” He fell quiet, eyes glaring into his memory.

“What? What had happened?”

“Someone, perhaps a revenant or a djinn, maybe even a fae, had taught their wizards how to harness the power released by a soul as it separates from the physical body. They were using it to fuel their arts. And they thought such magic flowed from the acceptance of their offerings.”

Gabriel paled. “They were sacrificing their own? To you?”

“Their children. Their babies. Believing that I wanted such…evil.”

“What did you do?”

“I took care of it. All of it.”

“Oh brother…” Her hand wanted to reach out and touch him, to give comfort, but he quickly stood to put himself out of reach.

“Think well on it, Gabriel. The very idea itself had to be wiped out. And there is only one way to accomplish such a thing. Remember this when you go solve your Grigori problem.”

Fears filled her heart. “Will you help me?”

“No.”

A tear fell into tea held now with two hands - even an expected answer can be painful to hear. “I know you defended your realm in Hell when you were there. Is this world you have adopted not also yours to defend?”

“No. Nor are you the first to ask me to save it from the insanities and desperations of others.”

Gazing up with dampness on her cheeks, she asked, “Who else has come to you?”

“The fae royalty, in their battles against each other. And later in their struggle against the minions of our ancient foes that the fae’s foolish infighting had let loose. I tell you now what I told them: I am here because I wish to be left alone. If this world collapses I shall find another. I am done with conflicts. I am done with politics. Of Below, of Above, and of here as it sits lost in the middle.” Turning away from her, he added more quietly, “Seek perhaps whatever fae have survived, maybe they can help you thread the needle and prevent Michael from taking matters into his own hands. But I will not. So finish your tea and go.”

Gabriel stared at her cup before draining the last of its contents and setting it carefully atop a small rock. Rising to her feet, she ached to embrace him but his stance made it clear such a gesture would not be welcome.

“Thank you for seeing me, Beliel. I’ve missed you.”

“It was…good to see you too, sister.” Broad shoulders hunched in on themselves, but still he didn’t turn to face her.

She spoke softly to his scarred back. “The Gates were never locked against you, brother. And I continue to hope, as I always have and always will, to see you walk through them again one day. For my heart will never stop loving you.”

Composing herself against his silence, she turned and walked barefoot out of his refuge. As she reached her armored companion who had been standing outside in the evening twilight, she thought she caught a whisper echoing from the cave saying that he loved her too - but she was not sure if she had heard it or if it was just an echo of her own wish to hear what they both knew to be true.

Two sets of wings took to the air, one pure and one marked by blood. As they rose higher Gabriel wondered to herself how much longer her own white feathers would remain so pure before they too became stained like the edges of her dress that even now was being washed by the moisture from the clouds they flew through.

A conscience, she knew, could not be so easily cleansed.

 

The clouds faded away. I was sitting once again on the rock that hung over a beach caressed by an ocean whose location or name I still did not know.

There was no sign of my fellow angelic visitor to this place. Raphael still hadn’t returned.

If forced, waking was possible - but instead the waves rolled in, one after the other, while high above those now distant clouds floated past, never granting any views of their peaks. Whether towers and buildings still rested there upon them could not be seen.

It was clear as the toll of a bell that the dream of Gabriel had been true - a relived memory from long ago. It tasted of ages past, yet the passions had never faded and were as sharp now as when they first spilled forth.

What had happened after? And most of all - why had I experienced this? Had Gabriel gifted this memory somehow when we met and if so what else had been shared?

Would I like what was found if I tried to remember more?

The crashing of waves and the whisper of the cool breeze brushing past yielded no answers. But with this one shared memory I was sure of one thing:

Whatever heavenly schemes had caught me in their net, they had been brewing before recorded history.

Perhaps even since the beginning of all things.

Light's Promise (Part 2 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 4 - Price

“Jordan, perhaps you can elucidate to the class how the emergence of powered individuals has disturbed the foundation and premise of the law and structure of the United States?”

Rabbi Kirov was picking on me again. When I had received my schedule I’d discovered that he had wedged his own class onto the list: The Ethics of Super-powered Beings. Now we were at the end of the second week and he already had established to everyone that I was some sort of teacher’s pet. He kept selecting me non-stop to answer questions or to reiterate the passages in the assigned reading texts. It had gotten out of hand, and I was so going to yell at him at our private magic practice session come Monday.

Emitting a moan and trying to ignore the quiet snickers of my classmates, I straightened from a slouched posture resulting from the uncomfortable hard wood and plastic school desks. They were a far cry from the cozy and plush leather computer desk chairs I (and my posterior) had gotten used to at proper places of business while plugging away at writing software. Clearly the school administration believed that strengthening our characters involved strict conditioning for our rear ends.

Kirov waited patiently with an amused smile and there was no getting out of it. “Right," I said, "uh, the foundation and premise of the law and structure of the United States…” My mind tried to form something coherent as it replayed what he had been talking about, and I had a sneaking suspicion that this time the rabbi had picked on me because my attention had drifted away again. Oops. To the side from a pair of speakers could be heard Penelope, my heat-sensitive friend teleconferencing in from Hawthorne, as she giggled into the microphone.

I plowed onward. “Well, given that even in our Declaration of Independence it states a basis on ‘all men being created equal’, the notion that all citizens should therefore be equal under the law takes a hit when the premise is directly proven false.”

The rabbi nodded for me to continue. So far so good.

“I mean, historically rulers gained their power due to being the strongest with a sword or having the biggest group of thugs willing to follow their stomping about. But beginning with inventions like the crossbow, and later the musket and rifle, the playing field between individuals became more level: a peasant could take out a knight given a week or so of simple training. Thus the power balance between royalty and subjects shifted towards the people - which over the course of time culminated in the thinking of the Founding Fathers. Indeed, in the opinions of many, the Second Amendment provides the people the right to arm themselves with the implements of their equality under the assumption that it would keep the citizens on par with the government in terms of such power and thus curtail governmental abuse and tyranny.”

I paused for a second, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Thing is,” I continued, “that power balance went out of whack with the advances of technology: machine guns, tanks, missiles, and of course, atomic weaponry. The military of the state once again held overwhelming superiority. This was kept in check by virtue of the members of that military also being citizens along with the careful organized control by the military collective over the tools of such greater destruction and the designed constitutional subservience of the military to civilian leadership. But the emergence of super-powered beings, independent of the military, greatly threatened the underlying premises. Here were individuals with the potential for tremendously more power than their fellow citizens, and in truth they could threaten the agents of the citizenry: the police, and in emergencies, the military itself. So should they remain ‘equal’ under the law when the agents of the law might be powerless against them? Or do they require regulating under a stricter system to keep them in check before the previous pattern of history with a ruling class holding all the personal power came to repeat itself, except this time the royals would be metas or mutants and society would have a class division based not on subjective prejudices but measurable traits.”

Yeah, the kids in the class were openly staring at me now. I decided I should shut up. Everyone pretty much hated the MCO and while I didn’t like them either, the issues prompting their existence were extremely thorny and difficult.

“Ahem. Yes, an excellent summary,” Rabbi Kirov said. “As an assignment for the weekend, write a three to five page essay on either the effects of the 1976 Starbright Registration Act which formed the basis of the United State’s agreement with the Mutant Commission Office or how the continual rise of technology - gadgeteer or ‘normal’, not devisor tech - has been used to give civilian law enforcement the capacity to try and restore ‘equality’ between those with powers and the civilian populace.”

Everyone groaned, including me. While it wouldn’t take that long to type something up, it was one more thing on the pile. As it was most of Saturday was booked solid with first the Defensive Driving course, and then Danielle had insisted I join her for lunch before we spend the afternoon working on my magic spell-casting. While she had an instinctive knack for spell-work and Tamara had spent many evenings trying to get me to understand how she did things as a witch, I hadn’t made any progress. Lighting even a single candle properly was still beyond my ability and Danielle was determined to help come Hell or high water.

Sunday was set to be clobbered with tutoring Tamara (and a couple of other students) for their algebra quiz on Monday, and Jenna had told me to leave the afternoon free. I had a suspicion she and Brendan were still hoping to recruit me to their combat team.

And of course tonight I had Ballroom Dancing. Yep, I got stuck with that too. Cecilia Rogers had conspired with Natalie to force me into her class to ‘ease the transition into being a proper young lady’. Ugh. At least I got to see Zap there - he’d also been railroaded into it to help him get used to being in human form again. Apparently he’d fallen down a few times from forgetting he couldn’t just take off into the air like he had when stuck as a hawk. That must’ve been awkward.

The rabbi remained nonplussed by the sounds of misery from students mentally rearranging their weekends to accommodate the last-minute assignment. “This is all the time we have for today. Remember to double-space or it goes into the sacred sepulcher of wasted efforts!”

Everyone quickly shoved notebooks and school laptops into bags, hopping up as a disorganized mob to rush out the door.

“Jordan, a moment if you would, yes?” Kirov caught me as I was about to escape to the freedom of the hallway with the other inmates.

Quickly rolling my eyes so he wouldn’t see, I turned around. “Yeah?”

“Your attention wandered elsewhere today. Is there something on your mind?” The rabbi absently removed his glasses to clean them on his tie.

“No, well…yeah.” I sighed, stepping back into the classroom by the cluttered teacher’s desk so everyone else could get past. “I guess a number of things.”

“Care to talk about them? Perhaps I can help.” Returning the frames to their impressive perch, he frowned - somehow he’d managed to smudge them even worse. He fumbled with a pocket for a handkerchief to try instead while I stammered out a reply.

“Well, other than the total weirdness of being back in school and getting treated like a kid again, plus the frustrations I’ve had with the magical studies and practice, I guess there are two things that are bugging me.”

Scholarly hands paused what they were doing as he gave his full attention. One thing I really liked about the rabbi - no matter how absent minded he could be, he truly cared. The man had a heart the size of Texas.

“Please, go on,” he encouraged.

“Nick Wright hasn’t contacted me and it’s been, what, over four weeks? Natalie still won’t tell me anything, and Director Goodman only responds to emails with a perfunctory notice that if I need to know I’ll be informed.”

“Hmm. As I understand, Mr. Wright is not entirely reliable - at least according to my brother Gregory. And the second item you mentioned?”

“Oh, uh…” I blushed. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

He offered a reassuring smile. “I only wish to be of assistance.”

I stared down at my uniform shoes, or as Jenna called them, ‘Mary Jane’s’. Apparently that’s the style. Huh, they had some mud stuck on the tips. When did that happen?

“Jordan?”

Ah hell. Making a face I looked back up at him. “I worked it out: I’ve been a girl for forty-five days now.” I stopped. How the hell was I going to explain this to him?

“Does that bother you?” He was puzzled. Not surprising, as I’d been telling him that the whole gender thing hadn’t been much of an issue lately. Which was true, I had too many other things to worry about.

“Not itself, no. Just, uh…certain things should have happened by now. But they haven’t.” It was raining against the windows again. Oh yeah, it had rained before dawn last night too. Hence muddy feet.

“Certain things?”

I gave up. “My period, okay?” I blurted loudly right as a freshman entered the room for the next class. The poor guy almost tripped and looked lost as to whether he should run out or pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

Rabbi Kirov still didn’t get it.

“Jesus, do I need to paint you a picture?” I leaned over to his ear and gave a graphic description of what the hell I meant.

He paled. “Ah. I see!”

“Yeah.” I nodded, crossing arms over my stomach protectively.

“How long did you say it hasn’t happened?”

“Forty-five days.”

He fumbled for his briefcase, fished out his teacher’s ticket book, and hastily scribbled onto the top slip. “Here.” He handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I tried to read the writing, but naturally it was illegible. My full name was probably there in the mess somewhere.

“Whatever your next class is, you’re excused. You are to go to Doyle for an examination.”

“Sensei Ito is not going to like me missing class.”

“I will notify him directly. This is not negotiable, Ms. Emry’s. Your health is paramount.”

I groaned, even louder than I had over being assigned the essay.

“Move along, Jordan. This cannot wait. And Mr. Hansen,” the rabbi said over my shoulder to the dude who had taken a seat all the way in the back of the room, “You are not to repeat what you overheard here, do you understand? It is private information.”

“Uh, yes sir?” I could hear the grin in the guy’s voice. I didn’t even need to look.

Shaking my head, I hurried out of the room. Didn’t the rabbi know that by giving such an admonishment he all but guaranteed the entire student body would be full of rumors by dinner? Argh!

~o~O~o~

At least the doctor at Doyle warmed up the invasive salad spoons before applying them to my, uh, sensitive areas. The hospital that had first examined me weeks ago hadn’t been so considerate.

I still didn’t enjoy the experience.

The doc ordered another set of blood work and also an ultrasound. And nope, she wouldn’t tell me anything. She just kept asking how many days I’d been a girl over and over as if hoping I’d trip up and admit that oh, oops my bad, it was only last week that my outtie became an innie! Yeah, like my medical file here didn’t already have all the details spelled out in triplicate.

She did make an attempt of consoling the patient with phrases like, ‘it could be a hormonal delay, and thus nothing to worry about’ and ‘recent transformees start their cycles differently’.

Nope, not comforting.

The ultrasound tech was a younger guy who pretended he didn’t speak any English. Either that or he had the music on his headphones turned up so loud he couldn’t hear me, but I liked the initial theory.

When an entirely different lab-coated woman came in to wheel me and the gurney I was stuck on into an elevator to the basement for ‘further testing’, I became concerned. Also, wow did she wear too much perfume. Urk!

The lady with the overpowering scent of an entire garden’s worth of flowers mushed into a bowl of vodka slid the gurney and its trapped passenger into a weird silver tube lined with white LEDs.

“Is this some kind of MRI?” I asked, thinking it odd to be fed into the contraption feet first.

She grunted as if offended by the notion. “No, this is a custom scanner of mine, of superb quality. And don’t worry, most lab subjects have no side effects of any note.”

Say what? “Side effects?” Wait - did she also say ‘lab subjects’?

The lady made a ‘tut tut’ sound with her tongue. “Try not to move.” She closed the tube behind me, as if having loaded a fresh torpedo into a submarine’s launch tube.

There was a loud ‘kachunk’ of a locking mechanism and the lights went out.

Before I could even say ‘what in tarnation’, my insides did a triple somersault and all senses went berserk.

 

Sound was sight, smell was touch, and taste reported the utter loss of balance. Up was yellow, the darkness was deafening, and there was no way to scream.

A voice painted a word using trombones and rough sandpaper. The flavor of an arrow offered guidance, and somehow I followed.

The scent of crashing thunder mixed with the direction of a breeze and I could see the coldness of a large stone.

My stone. The one from my dreams.

Like putting a puzzle together piece by piece, each sensory input needed to be reassembled and reassigned. But the pattern was familiar: ocean and beach, cliff and sky. Hands on liquid shoulders formed an essence which cut through the haywire sensations.

They steadied me, those hands, and the scene came into focus.

 

“Raphael?”

“I am here. But you are not, not entirely.”

We were standing upon that stone, with him behind. The sights and senses had become solid, but looking down I was not. My body - now dressed in casual t-shirt and jeans - kept flickering and pulsating like seeing an image in a constantly warping fun-house mirror.

“Keep your eyes on the ocean, or your perceptions may have further issues.” His voice was calm, yet concerned.

“Okay.” I gazed out over the waters, focusing on the white peaks of waves as they rolled towards the shore. “The doctors are using some kind of scanner on me. It’s messing me up.”

“For what do they scan?”

“My…female organs. I’ve yet to have a cycle. You know, menstruation.”

“Ah.” He said it with a touch of sadness and hands massaged my shoulders with a gentle firmness.

I choked up. “They’re going to find something anomalous, aren’t they?”

He stayed silent before sighing. “It is likely.”

“Damn.” I really didn’t want to think about it, not here, not now. “Where have you been?”

“Searching.”

“For what?”

He didn’t answer. I tried to turn my head to look back at him but even shifting that much threw everything off-kilter again. Back to the waves. Back to their gentle roar and the scent of salt in the wind.

Right.

He spoke quietly. “I was searching for that which I could not find when I first came across you here, much to my surprise.”

“What?”

“This dreamspace. It is a small pocket favored by someone. I had come hoping they would be here - and found you instead.”

Somehow, don’t ask me how, I knew who he meant. “Gabriel. This is her place.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t find her?”

“No. She is missing.”

“That’s…that’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I could feel his worry, through his touch, from his heart.

“I saw her. Once.”

The hands went still. “When?”

How could he not know? “Before she sent me back across.”

He exhaled sharply. “That answers one question, and raises a legion more in its place.”

“Can I help?”

“I do not know.”

“Raphael, what does it all mean? What is happening?”

The light from above reflected off white cresting waters, but it was felt as a clash of cymbals. I couldn’t refocus because the brilliant colors of butterfly wings were pulling me away.

As the bitterness of over-brewed tea swept everything away, his answer echoed across a painted tableau of soft silk.

“Change.”

 

The world coalesced into the bright white LEDs illuminating the inside of the silver tube where I still lay.

Finding my voice, I screamed sheer frustration until the throat bled raw.

~o~O~o~

They put me in a ‘recovery’ room to await the results of their tests. It had obviously been designed to try and put a patient at ease: wallpaper of greenery with pale flowers of yellows and violets, padded comfortable chairs, even a simulated skylight pretending to look upwards at a sunny blue sky complete with fluffy cotton-candy clouds.

But outside in the real world beyond the wall you could hear the rain.

When Natalie came in with the perfume lady it was obvious they were worried about disclosing their findings. But Raphael had pretty much already clued me in.

Natalie was the one to explain it all in careful technical detail: the lack of any follicles around the ovaries, how my blood nevertheless showed absolutely balanced and normal hormone levels between estrogen and progesterone, being at the stage where an egg should be released by a follicle and sent on its way to the uterus in its hope to encounter some male produced counterparts.

That and how the measurements of the blood exactly matched what they had seen in all their prior tests, with the only variance being minimal shifts of glucose levels.

The doctor (who’s name I had done my best to ignore) tried to interrupt a few times, but Natalie shushed her with a firm look each time.

But the therapist still wouldn’t cut to the chase and I’d had enough. “I’m barren,” I interrupted. “Just skip to the end of the bullshit and say it.”

Natalie had the grace to cringe. “I’m sorry, Jordan - but it appears so. Doctor Yellen’s devise shows your ovaries to be completely lacking of any eggs. And with the steady-state nature of your hormones favoring estrogen and lacking the follicles to remain and produce progesterone, your womb will not thicken to be ready to accept an egg even should one be procedurally transplanted.”

I stared at the green and off-white tiled floor, feeling numb.

Doctor Yellen (damn, perfect memory won’t let me forget her name now) opened her yap again. “Many women would count you lucky, you know - you won’t suffer monthly periods with their pains and messes. Why, I have often thought to induce such a state in myself, after all with some effort I’m sure I could build an artificial womb that could carry a child to term later should I wish it-”

“Doctor.” Natalie glared at the woman. “Why don’t you go double check the findings?”

Yellen snorted. “The results were obvious. Even a first year intern could interpret them. With her exemplar metabolism, even IVF hormone treatments would fail to allow such a womb to ever quicken and hold a child.”

“Leave, Doctor. Now.” Natalie pointed angrily at the door. With a casual shrug, the woman got to her feet and shuffled out.

At least the horrid flowery stench went with her.

“Jordan?” Natalie leaned closer, trying to make eye contact. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Can I go now?” I was still staring at the door the medical devisor had used to exit.

“Do you want to talk about it? I know this is a shock.”

“No.”

She sighed quietly. “I’m here for you if you need me. Call me, day or night, okay?”

“Sure. We done? I’d like to go back to my room now.”

After a hesitation, she nodded. “We’re done. But I’d like to check in with you this weekend, alright?”

“Sure,” I said again.

She opened the door for me, but I didn’t say anything or look at her as I left. I just needed out.

It rained heavily the whole way back to Hawthorne. There was an umbrella in my book-bag, but I didn’t think to pull it out.

~o~O~o~

Back at the attic sanctuary Khan tried to get me to play without much success. After settling for some scritches, he decided to go run amok in the rafters because hey, they were there.

As for me, everything seemed unreal and distant. I was a girl, but not really, not where it counted.

Raphael’s revelation that Gabriel was missing was also damn troubling. Problem was, I wasn’t sure I could tell anyone about that. Nick had warned me against spilling the beans to the rabbi about what had happened on the other side back when I had died and was resurrected, and this felt like something else that was really dangerous to know.

Nick was the only one I could really talk to about it, and the bastard hadn’t called back like he said he would. I swore that someday I’d have him and Isaiah try to get in touch with each other, the resulting silence would be profound.

Feeling I might do something stupid like punch another wall, I pulled out my dad’s guitar instead. After retuning the strings, I plunged into a frenetic Bulerias.

Not wanting to think, the music gave a great excuse to avoid doing so. I fell into the tempo and falsettas, repeating a piece from the beginning whenever a mistake was made.

I must have lost track of time because it was entirely dark outside when the room’s phone rang. The sound snapped me out of the reverie, and I fumbled for the receiver.

“Yeah?”

“Jordan?” Mrs. Cantrel was calling from downstairs. “Your dance partner, Zap, is here waiting and wondering if you’re going to class.”

Shit. Ballroom dance. Dangit, that meant I had also missed dinner completely.

For a second it was tempting to decline and skip the class as Natalie would surely give me cover for ditching, but then Zap wouldn’t have someone to practice with. There were an even number of kids in the class, and as I wanted to get to know him better I had quickly grabbed him to be my partner. He’d saved my bacon in the whole incident with Tamara and her demon after all.

I figured us stepping on each other’s toes by accident couldn’t be any more embarrassing than when he had passed out stark naked on top of me at the end of that whole encounter. As for having given him a peepshow while he'd been a hawk, when I’d asked him what he remembered from his time as the bird he only grinned and had refused to answer.

Yeah, overall I’d have to say we were even on that score.

“Jordan? You there?” Oops, Mrs. Cantrel was still waiting for a response.

“Tell him I’m coming.”

“He says not to forget your heels like you did on Wednesday.”

Blah. Those things were uncomfortable, but Cecilia wanted the girls to practice in them as much as possible. “Fine, fine. I’ll grab them.”

Fortunately my clothes had already dried from the earlier downpour and the standard uniform with skirt was good enough to practice in. So after picking up the pair of white and gold stilettos that Ms. Rogers had claimed would perfectly match the dress she was making for me, I hurried downstairs.

Zap waited in the lounge. We all knew his real name, but everyone still called him Zap. We were about the same height, and he had decided to grow his hair long. Unfortunately it was still in that awkward in-between stage and thus he looked rather like a mop-top member of the Monkeys.

Not that I’d tell him that.

“You ready?” he asked after I reached the ground floor and popped out of the elevator. If the campus rumor-mill had filled him in on things, he didn’t let it show.

“Sure, let’s go.”

The rain had let up for the moment which was weirdly disappointing, and we hurried to the gym in silence. He usually didn’t say much unless prompted and for once I was grateful. When the term started he had barely said anything more than a few words or maybe a grunt or two. He’d opened up, at least to me, but it had been slow going. When going around campus, however, he was hyper alert - those golden-brown eyes darting from sound to sound building a perfect mental map of everything occurring in the vicinity. Residuals from having been a hawk was my bet.

We were the last to arrive. Cecilia quickly formed us up to practice the steps she had demonstrated over the past couple weeks. She gave me a large sympathetic look as I came in, which made me internally wince. She’d been informed, wonderful.

Privacy, thy name is not Whateley.

She hit the music, and Zap put an arm around my waist before taking my hand.

We danced.

He was really good. He had this natural balance - something I was still working on. As partners I couldn’t have chosen better for he had this almost infinite patience and effortlessly picked up the dance moves Cecilia had been trying to teach everyone.

I was improving, but the first couple classes were really awkward. Just being held by a guy was weird enough, trying to move ‘naturally’ with spikes under my heels was tricky.

Turning at the end of the gym, he pulled me closer still. There was something comforting about his presence, even like this. There was this quiet solidity to him, and I don’t mean just physically because it was more than that. He had this immovable center, a core that while it could bend, it would never break.

Even if breaking would end the pain.

My wife Caroline had described me that way once - when I had held her tightly as she wept after the doctors told her the same things that they had told me today. She knew that as much as we both wanted children, I could never leave her just because she would be unable to bear them.

Such a thought had never registered, or if it had it was dismissed immediately as an absurdity unworthy of any further consideration. I don’t remember which.

As she lay dying those few all-too-short months later she told me I must find someone new. Marry them, she fervently had said, and go father the child she wished we could have shared. She made me promise.

And here I was, in a new body, in a new life, and I could never fulfill her dying wish for me. These insane changes completely destroyed the promise I had given. I’d spent the intervening years mourning deeply for her, rejecting all notions of dating anyone else. The chances and opportunities friends had tried to encourage to break me out of that shell had all been wasted and ignored.

My cheeks were wet and it wasn’t raining indoors.

Zap had stopped moving, he was staring wordlessly at the tears.

Ms. Rogers stepped up behind him, whispering to take me outside. I didn’t resist when he pulled me past the doors.

Once away from everyone else I collapsed against him. Without volition huge racking sobs of anguish soaked through his shirt faster than the lightly falling rain.

He held me close and let me cry.

~o~O~o~

Zap escorted me to the cafeteria when the class was over. Once I’d gotten myself together again, we’d gone back inside and continued practicing. Cecilia hovered nearby, but had been kind enough not to say anything.

A good number of the girls had also nodded to me with sympathy. As I had figured would happen, news had spread fast.

He stayed quiet until we’d already spent a few minutes picking at the food on our plates.

“Want to talk about it?” He said it casually, but you could hear the underlying concern.

“Not really,” I said.

Pause. “Okay.” He took another cheese-laden bite of his lasagna bolognese.

“You know,” I said, hoping to change the subject, “I’ve never asked you why you cursed at the sky after you saved me and Tamara. Were you just upset about being human again? Is it that bad?”

He stiffened, which made me feel guilty for being rude and asking. But after a moment he shrugged.

“Being human is fine. It’s what that asshole keeps shouting every morning at dawn that pisses me off. Easier to ignore as a bird.”

“Asshole?”

“Yeah. Ra.”

Wait, what? I replayed that scene in the forest: hawk-headed warrior standing guard, saying he had to go, shifting form to Zap…oh, and the sunlight that streamed down on him the whole time and which had disappeared when Zap came back.

Sunlight. Ra. Hawk-headed warrior who kicked serious ass. Oh shit!

“Holy crud, were you channeling Ra when you shifted out of hawk to help fight the demon-thing?”

Zap shook his head. “Only his energy, like a power-up boost.”

“Oh. So what does Ra shout at you?” I couldn’t help it, I had to ask.

He snorted in disgust. “He shouts pronouncements that I’m the god Heru and need to wake up. Yeah, fuck that noise.”

I gaped openly at him. After my fork kept not moving from where it hovered, he looked up. “What?”

“You’re Horus, I mean, Heru? The other hawk god? That’s, uh-”

“It’s a pain in the ass, is what it is. You have any idea how depressed that guy is?”

“Ra is depressed?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not Ra. Heru.”

“Why?”

Zap tilted his head, much like he had done as a hawk. “Dude was once god-king over Egypt and its entire civilization. His people and their traditions are all gone, and his cities are buried in sand. How much more depressing can you get?”

“But if you’re him…?” I admit, I was fairly confused.

He groaned and pointed a fork at me. “Look - gods are complicated spirits, okay? They have aspects, shards, bits of themselves that go off and do things. Read the myths, it’s all in there. Ra won’t shut up about me being one of them.”

“Is that why you stayed a hawk for so long?”

He grinned mischievously, stabbing more lasagna. “Birds don’t give a crap about the past, they just care about eating and fu…uh, other things. Worked great.”

I thought about the dream of Gabriel and Danielle’s report of also having past-life dreams. “Do you have memories of being Heru? From those old days?”

He shrugged. “A couple fragments, nothing really coherent. I try to block ‘em out.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“I already know what happened. Open a history book, it’s all there. He can keep his damn memories, I don’t want them.”

“Why not?” I asked again.

Zap’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Because I’m me, and I’m keeping it that way. I sure as shit am not going to let the ghost of some dying god swamp who and what I am.”

I contemplated my mostly uneaten steak salad. “Maybe you could teach Danielle how to do that - blocking stuff out, that is.”

“Danielle? Your freshman friend?”

“Yeah. She’s likely a reincarnate of an old sidhe and has relived some of it in her dreams. She’s learning magic from them, but I worry.”

“You’re afraid she’s going to lose herself to what she was.”

“Pretty much. She’s seems happy with it now, but as I understand the history the sidhe were pretty much wiped off the planet. Eventually she’ll trigger memories that won’t be happy. Like your Heru.”

“Until she wants to block that stuff, and I mean really want to, it won’t work. No matter what I show her. It’s, uh, it’s a bit like covering your ears while shouting loudly and running into a closet to get away from it at times.”

“You didn’t though.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Run. When it counted. Even as a hawk you were watching out for me and you let Heru take over to fight that demon. Thank you. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if it hadn’t been for you.”

His cheeks went all rosy as he looked away. “The bird liked you.”

I smiled. “The bird was you.” I picked at the salad, stabbing a bit of beef before grinning. “Totally worth the smuggled hot dogs onto the balcony.”

He grinned back, still flushing pink. “Those were tasty.”

“Aha, you do remember! Which means you remember seeing me topless!”

Those cheeks went a much deeper red but the grin didn’t falter. “Maybe?”

I couldn’t help it. Laughter overtook me, hard enough that my eyes watered. His silly smile kept it going. The few other late-evening diners stared at me like I’d lost my mind, but I didn’t care.

Right as I was calming down, he looked up and away and with an expression of forced innocence said, “Boing!”

I snerked loudly and lost it again.

After the day I’d had, I really needed it. Once we’d bussed our trays and were about to wander back to our own cottages, I impulsively grabbed him in a hug.

“Thanks, Zap.”

I must have caught him off guard, yet he went with it and held me close again. His expression, though, was of someone struggling with something. But with a forced casualness he only said, “Anytime, Jordan. See you later!”

It wasn’t until I’d gotten back to the doors of Hawthorne that I figured it out. He’d debated on whether he should try to kiss me. What was more disturbing as I went inside was that I wasn’t sure whether or not he’d made the right decision.

Chapter 5 - Feathers

“No, you’re just not getting it!”

Danielle threw her hands up in exasperation. She sat on a chair outside the circle covering the bedroom floor and had been glaring at me. We’d moved the bed out of the way (easy to do considering the size of the room, and how strong we both were), and I had plopped myself into the center of the three rings that kept the energy from flooding the cottage.

Around on the floor lay the wreckage of yet more candles, making white goopy circles of their own on the aluminum foil trays. Some wax had blown clear of the shiny improvised place-mats; it was going to be a pain to clean.

The day so far had been decent enough, especially after a surprisingly restful night of sleep. No dreams, no weirdness, just me and Khan snoozing and purring the night away. The little guy had graciously allowed me to sleep in, thus I had been late to the defensive driving class I’d signed up for in the hopes to be allowed to park on campus at the end of the term. It was an interesting class: we’d quickly gone through the usual types of vehicles in these state-of-the-art simulators and had moved on to things like armored vehicles and tanks. Motorcycles had been the most fun so far.

After lunch Danielle had marched me back here with a fresh pack of white candles and her notebook of magic incantations. She was fixated on me being finally able to light a flame by the end of the day.

The odds of that happening weren’t good.

“I’m trying!” I grumped with equal frustration. “I can gather the energy, hell I can keep it contained without these circles now for the most part, but it just won’t do anything! It’s like I’m using the wrong language or focus or something.” Whatever words I had instinctively shouted back at the DPA testing facility to such great effect refused to become clear in an otherwise perfect memory. Like there was a mental block in there, which just made the continued failure so much more annoying.

She casually gestured at a pillar candle placed on the desk and said, “Fuego!” The damn wick instantly whooshed into bright flame. It even danced about as if taunting me. “It shouldn’t really matter what language you use as long as it has meaning for you,” she said, knowing she’d proven the point by imitating one of our favorite modern-fantasy characters. “It’s all in the intent, visualization, and flow.”

“I dunno. It’s like my interface is broken or something. I can feel the command trying to go, but then it just bounces back into my face. This is useless.” I shook my head.

“You’re just upset that I can do it and you can’t, ‘uncle’.” She grinned, having made the scare quotes around our old relationship moniker obvious by her tone.

I threw her a dirty look and followed up by sticking out my tongue. “I thought I had gotten over you abusing my ego years ago when you used to cream me at Mario Kart.”

She giggled. “God, you really sucked at that game.”

I made a bigger show of being disgusted, but internally was smiling. If she ever figured out how badly I’d played on purpose…

“But more seriously,” she was saying, “You’ve got the manna channeling thing down pat. I mean, you have more energy than anyone else on campus. All of us sensitives can tell that much.”

“Really?”

“Jeeze, I’ve had to argue with other magic users to prevent them from doing something stupid like trying to tap into you as if you’re some kind of battery. I mean, we’ve all been warned against reaching into ley-lines, but some of these idiots think you’d be safer somehow.”

“Uh, how’d you convince them not to?” Holy hell, and what would I do if they tried?

“Reminded ‘em that you live in Hawthorne for a reason and that if they were to attempt something incredibly dumb like that to make sure I wasn’t in the same building or anywhere near the inevitable explosion. Shut them up pretty quick.” She smirked.

“Huh. Good.”

“Has the rabbi said anything about your spectacular lack of success with the spells? Anything useful?”

I sighed ruefully. “Not really. He only emphasized that I should have patience, and at the very least master control of the energy itself. If I can prove to him I can do that then I might be allowed to power up in martial arts class. So far that seems to be the most useful thing I can do reliably. Filling my physical body up with the power is easy now, but keeping it from leaking if I get distracted by fighting is tricky.”

She nodded. “That’s something they’ve been teaching in survival class. Spell knowledge and theory is great and all, but using it in a moment of panic is something else entirely.”

“Yep. And you never know if you’ll freeze up until the moment hits. Doesn’t have to be combat either, any kind of pressure crisis can trigger it. Seen enough programmers lock up under severe time crunch when the stress levels got high enough.”

“You didn’t when you came to rescue me.”

“That’s because I was too stupid to know what I was doing.” I smiled at her.

She smiled too, but it faded. “This is really strange, you know.”

“What, me failing the simplest spell, or the fact that Khan is actually trying to nap and not demanding attention?” I pointed at the fuzzy lump sprawled out on the purple comforter, four paws dangling up in the air with the rest of him flat on his back.

“No. It’s just…” She hesitated.

“Go ahead, hon. Whatever is bothering you.”

“All of this.” She gestured at me, and back at herself. “Us. You like that, me like this. I mean, you are…or were my uncle, an adult, and you took care of me when Mom,” she choked up, “…when Mom died. And now…”

“Now I’m just another student at your school, and a girl at that.”

“Yeah. Except when it’s just the two of us you sound like your old self. But out there?” She waved towards the balcony and the school beyond. “Out there, you’re more and more just like any girl going to the school. It’s weird.”

“I’m sorry.” I fidgeted, not knowing what to say.

“Jordan, who do you want to be?”

“That’s…a really good question, hon.” Unfortunately I didn’t have a good answer. “Who do you need me to be?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s a cop out. It’s not about me and what I want or need. It’s about you.”

“You’ve been talking with Natalie.”

“Well, duh. I’ve got an entire previous life and its personality to deal with so she’s asked me the same thing. But no distracting or sidestepping over to my problems - I asked you. Stay on target, Red Five!”

She earned a small grin with that, but yeah, best to fess up in all seriousness. “I guess I don’t know. As each day goes by, being like this becomes more normal. At times that is upsetting all by itself. I feel like I might be losing who I was, but then the fact that I died smacks me in the face. That life is gone. The only thing remaining from it is you.”

“Would it be better, you know, if we didn’t hang out or talk?” A cheek quivered as she asked.

“Hell no! Dangit hon, knowing you are here too is the only thing keeping me sane! We’ve both lost our old lives and are trying to start these new ones, but I don’t ever want to let go of the last beautiful treasure that remains. You. Well, and Khan, of course.”

That got a slight chuckle. “Of course.”

“I know I can’t be the adult or parental figure in your life any more, and yeah, that hurts. I’ve tried my best to not act that way towards you the past couple weeks. With all the teachers on your case, not to mention Isaiah demanding you email him those daily updates, I think you’ve got plenty of that. But I can still be there for you as more than a friend. We’re family. You’re all I have left, sweetie. Which means I’ll worry about you, just like I think you’ve been worrying about me.”

She gazed into the still-burning candle. “I heard about what happened yesterday. Rumors are saying that you were pregnant and had an abortion at Doyle.”

“What?!”

“They said you were late on your period. Did something else happen to you when you were attacked? Did that gryphon guy do something, like, unnatural to you?”

Face meet palm. Hard. “Oh for fuck’s sake. I am not, nor was I ever, pregnant. And no, Tsáyid did not rape me. Slit my throat, sure, but nothing more.” I gave a short bark of a laugh.

“Then what…?” She was clearly confused.

“I’m barren, Danielle. Utterly and totally barren. No periods, no eggs, no bearing children.” That came out with a lot more bitterness than I’d intended.

“Oh my god, like Aunt Caroline? I’m so sorry!”

It was a good thing I’d already released all the summoned energy because before I knew it Danielle had tackle-hugged me in the center of the circle.

“That’s just awful!” she said, horrified. “I know how much you and she wanted a baby, Mom was so sad for you guys when she found out. And I wanted a cousin too!”

I let her hug me, patting her hair awkwardly. “Yeah, well, as we both have learned all too well life is giving us dramatically different things from anything we could expect.”

She sniffled something fierce. I managed to extricate myself and fetch the tissues, holding them out for her. She took one gratefully.

With a long sigh I said, “I guess overall I’m just like any other teenager, sweetie.”

After blowing her nose, she asked, “How so?”

“Desperately trying to figure out who I am and where I’m going. The fact that I’ve done it before and have all that experience to draw on cushions it somewhat, I guess. I’d like to feel I was successful enough to not need to worry about whether I can do it again, but that doesn’t make things any less confusing. Hell, I might even like boys now. It’s a mess.” I tried to laugh but it came out more like a hiccup.

She wiped her eyes. “Natalie warned me against trying to rely on the past life stuff in deciding who I am. She said it was from a much different time and that I should hold on to how I was raised this go-round. To try and keep a firm grip on the nature of the world as it exists now. Otherwise I might fall into potential traps of being lost in sorrows over stuff that happened perhaps tens of thousands of years ago. I think the counselors here have dealt with this kind of thing a few times.”

“Seems smart.”

“Could it also apply to you? Maybe not the thousands of years part, but…”

“I get it. However, I only have the one childhood to draw upon. And my losses are just that: mine. Not from a different lifetime lived ages ago. I imagine there is wisdom that can be drawn from your past life too, but treating it like reading a book might be safer. Identify with her as a character but not as your core. I’d hate to lose my niece.”

“Am I losing my uncle?”

“Oh hon.” I pulled her into a hug. “You will never lose the love I have for you. We will always be family, regardless of bodies, and regardless of what anyone says about our spirits and who they were or who they are now. Family. I swear I will always be there for you.”

A pulse of power moved within, raising the hairs on my skin. A singular chime vibrated deep in the center of my soul. She stiffened, obviously feeling it too.

We were about to comment but a knock on the door startled us. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she scooted back so I could get my ass up and go open the door.

It was Jenna. “Hey Jordan!” she said all too cheerfully.

Not entirely happy at the timing of the interruption, I said, “Hi Jenna. Need something?”

“Want to go on a field trip?” She grinned wide, brushing aside blonde hairs from today’s wig selection away from her face.

“A field trip?”

“Yep! With the weather finally chilling out it’s safe for Penelope to go outside. Mrs. Cantrel is inviting a few of us who won’t have issues with the cold to join them for a quick trip off campus!”

Penelope had been stuck in her room all summer. For her a balmy seventy degrees Fahrenheit was like one-hundred twenty for the rest of us so she’d been effectively trapped. But this September had cooled off a lot faster than most years and looked like it should safely stay that way for at least a few more days. The rain had even stopped overnight and left clear (yet cold) skies behind.

“Like right now?”

“Absolutely! You had lunch already, right? Hi Danielle!” Jenna waved through the doorway. “Want to come too? There should be room for one more in the van, and as you’re also an exemplar a cold breeze shouldn’t bother you either.”

I looked back at Danielle and shrugged.

She shook her head at the mess I’d made of her candles. “May as well, we aren’t making any progress. We’ll just continue your torment some other time.”

Jenna bounced. “Awesome! Wear swimsuits!”

Swimsuits? Danielle gave me a huge evil smile as she said, “Oh we most definitely will, right Jordan?”

“Uh…sure?”

“Perfect! Meet downstairs in twenty!” And with that Ms. Perky Let’s-Embarrass-Ourselves-In-Public Jenna skipped the elevator to dance down the stairwell in the attic’s lobby area.

Danielle giggled. “You do have a suit, right?”

“I uh…” For a moment the temptation to lie shot skyward, but I resisted. “Yeah. I do. Cecilia Rogers sent me one for free because she claimed I seriously over-tipped.”

“Muhahaha…can’t wait to see you in it! I’ll go run and get mine.”

With that she also darted towards the stairs, leaving me alone with a deeply sleeping cat. He didn’t even stir as I rummaged in the wardrobe searching for the slinky and barely-there two pieces of deep purple fabric that Cecilia had sent.

“Why do I feel like fate is conspiring against me?” I muttered before changing into the ridiculous thing. Frankly it felt like I was wearing even less than when I had on only underwear and a bra. Worse still was how good the damn thing looked when I caught the reflection in the mirror. At least being Cecilia-crafted I knew it would be really durable and the knots holding the top and bottom pieces in place wouldn’t slip free. Small comfort, but it would have to do.

I threw a sweater and pair of sweats on over it all before tying on some sandals. That at least covered it up and removed the risk of any lustful spontaneous brain hemorrhaging within the local male teenage populace on the way out.

Lord knows I would have reacted just as badly to such a sight when I was that age.

~o~O~o~

Lieutenant Forsyth was drafted by Mrs. Cantrel to drive the Whateley van for our excursion. The long van had been modified so our house-mother could just hover into the back with her custom handicap floating chair. Wherever she’d gotten that thing made, it was a serious piece of tech.

Penelope was ecstatic over being able to go outside and, unlike the rest of us girls, hadn’t bothered covering up. Instead she danced all scantily clad in her tiny bikini into the front passenger seat after shouting ‘shotgun’ with glee. The blueish-green fabric made a nice contrast against the copper tones of her skin.

I will admit the wide-brimmed straw hat she had on was also cute, it even had a small recognizable penguin logo affixed to the front.

Danielle and Jenna grabbed the middle row, leaving me sitting next to Brendan behind them. The poor guy barely fit in the seat and kept apologizing whenever his knee would smack into my leg. He had to keep them widely splayed out just to wedge himself in. At first I had been surprised Jenna hadn’t wanted to sit next to him, but given her own height it was obvious that they both would have been really cramped if squeezed in next to each other.

By the time we drove past the suspicious-looking gargoyles at the main gate all the girls up front were busily singing the latest Lady Gaga song at the top of their lungs and drowning out the radio speakers. The Lieutenant had already thrice refused to turn the volume up any louder, so the girls had decided to make up the difference themselves. Exuberance, sadly, does not compensate for being seriously off-key.

Brendan, after rolling eyes towards the roof at the uncoordinated assault on our eardrums, pulled out a computer tablet which on boot up landed on a news page. I glanced quickly at it, noting that the top story was something about an explosion in Syria complete with a fuzzy black and white picture of the scene.

Shrugging, I turned to stare out at the forest trees that started zipping past, but something about that photo kept bugging me until I had to do something about it.

“Hey, can I see that headline news story?” I shouted, hoping he could hear me over the screeching chicken debate happening up front.

“Hmm?” Nope, he couldn’t.

I pointed at the tablet and leaned closer to his ear. “I want to see that news story!”

“Oh! Here, I’ve got another one.” He handed me this tablet, and fished a second from his bag. Looked like Jenna had made him carry hers too.

Hitting the back button a couple times brought up the story: ‘Central Synagogue of Aleppo Bombed’. I zoomed in on the picture showing smoldering rubble of what must have been a fairly large building wedged between many others. Emergency crews were trying to put the fire out, and a number of victims lay scattered about a small roadway in front. Some were on stretchers, others had been left where they must have fallen on the ground.

My gut bottomed out as I stared at the image. Because there, on one of the stretchers in the background, lay an unmistakable Nicolas Wright. He didn’t look conscious.

“Oh shit, oh shit…” Lungs began to work overtime and I had to force myself to breathe slower. I wanted to call Goodman, the Director at the DPA, and find out what the hell happened but I was in a van full of other students. Disturbingly loud ones at that.

I hastily sent a text message to Natalie instead. She was on loan to Whateley from the DPA after all, and in a weird way was therefore my main contact with them. She needed to know and maybe she could find out something, or even inform the home office if they hadn’t seen the pictures yet themselves.

‘Natalie! Look at the photo for the Aleppo Bombing on the news feeds - Nick Wright is on a stretcher! Is he alive???’

With an echoing pulse almost drowning out the girls, I waited for a response. It didn’t take long.

‘My god, you’re right. I’ll call it in. Where are you?’

‘On a field trip with Cantrel and kids…what the hell is he doing in Syria?? He said he needed to go to Jerusalem!’

‘Come by my office when you get back, I’ll try to have some intel by then - if I can.’

‘Okay’

Chewing at my lip, I went back to the tablet and tried to dig up whatever I could about that synagogue. The mind boggled at what was found. Apparently it was the site that had contained an extremely old and notable version of the Hebrew Bible - one endorsed by a very famous rabbi (named Maimonides) for its accuracy.

While the synagogue had been set on fire in 1947 during anti-Jewish riots, the Aleppo Codex (what they called the manuscript after it sat in Aleppo for six-hundred years) had mostly survived. It currently resided in something called the ‘Shrine of the Book’ at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.

Of real interest was that not all the pages had made it out of Aleppo and it was claimed that the missing ones had burned. Yet reports also said that none of the remaining pages had been singed.

Pages were simply missing, likely torn out.

There was a lot of controversy regarding the Codex, but the remaining pages had apparently been authenticated by leading scholars.

What the hell was Nick doing there? Did he have a lead on those missing pages or was he going after something altogether different? Dammit. I bet only he would know.

I hoped he hadn’t died - and not just because he was the only real chance for figuring out what the hell Soren had done to me and why. The man had helped save Danielle. I owed him. Plus the last time we spoke, he’d actually been honest and forthright about things.

Being so engrossed between trying to find more news articles about the explosion and reading further into the history of the Codex, I hadn’t noticed when the van stopped and everyone else got out.

“Jordan? You coming?” Mrs. Cantrel, having already disembarked, hovered at the side of the van’s open door.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…uh where are we?” I looked past her to see we were parked in a gravel lot. Brendan and Jenna were busy unloading a number of folding beach chairs.

“At a local lake,” she replied. “A bit chilly for my bones to go swimming, but you kids should be fine.”

Brendan bellowed at me over a shoulder. “Just leave the tablet in the van!”

I yelled back. “Got it!”

Turning off the device and dropping it on the seat, I scooted out as Danielle gleefully shouted at Penelope from the opposite side of the van. “Last one in is a rotten dragon egg!”

Penelope gave a giggling shriek and they raced off, presumably towards water.

Noting that there were six chairs and that with Jenna, Brendan, and myself we had six available hands to carry them, I quickly went over and grabbed a pair. Not that Jenna and Brendan couldn’t have carried more, but why be rude?

As we lugged the chairs around the van and towards a wide path, I caught sight of Danielle. She wore a white bikini two-piece and was laughing while easily running ahead of poor Penelope past all the green trees lining the path to a shimmering lake.

My stomach fell to the floor a second time. So did the two chairs that fell from my fingers. I’d seen this scene before. Back at powers testing. When I’d lost control.

When I’d seen the gryphon, Tsáyid, swoop out of a forest with the intent to take my niece’s life.

Eyes darting upwards caught sight of the black shape as it emerged from the obscuring foliage to barrel towards her on silent shadowy wings.

“Danielle! NO!!!”

Her running faltered as she turned towards my shout and she let out a scream of her own.

Black raven claws had pierced her shoulders and were carrying her up into the sky.

~o~O~o~

Everything went white.

He’d kill her. If I didn’t stop him, he’d kill her. As sure as the grass was green or the sky the bastard was flying into was blue.

All of Nick’s previous warnings against overload were ignored instantly, discarded as unimportant and if anything a hindrance to what needed to be done.

I didn’t just reach for the light, I plunged into it.

The limiter on the connection that had time and time again likely prevented serious damage appeared clearly as this intricate circle of energy in my inner vision. It rotated there, fully inscribed with brilliant golden names of power and diamond-forged sigils of meaning as it restricted the flow from that greater pillar of light which lay beyond.

Jenna and Brendan shouted my name, hands held before them trying to protect their eyes from the brilliance being cast forth unshielded.

I ignored them.

With flapping wings the gryphon climbed further into the sky while Danielle struggled against the claws piercing her skin. Both soon hovered several thousand feet up directly above a wide island dominating the center of the lake.

It was all so perfectly clear as if I was right there next to them. Her frantically screaming spells in an attempt to gain freedom, oblivious to the danger of what would happen should they succeed. But her invocations, her fae magic, slid off the dark feathers and fur as if the gentlest of spring rain.

Across that distance the beast looked to me with those stony raven eyes. And spoke straight into my mind.

The Master sends his regard and a message.

I shouted my response. “Fuck your master and his message, bring her back! Now!”

Sorrow I have as the deliverer, little sparrow. Yet the Master bids thee to learn.

Tears of glittering sparks burned down my cheeks, because as much as I could pull in the power I couldn’t use it. I couldn’t reach him, couldn’t save her. At that distance, none of us here could.

“Learn what? Bring her back!”

The Throne and its Light are a lie. They cannot save what is precious to you.

Oh shit. He really was going to kill her. Like he tried to do to me when he slit my throat.

The Master acknowledges your rise in power. But it is not enough. Never enough.

Dammit, no! I had to stall. Anything to keep him busy. “Tell him he should come and see my power for himself! Instead of hiding behind you like a damn coward! Tell him I challenge him, just us two!”

He sends his response.

Claws stained with blood withdrew from her shoulders. With a mighty scream of terror, Danielle fell.

There were no thoughts. Everything was thrown at that shining limiting circle. Everything. All the energy and light I had pulled in, all the rage, all the fear, and most of all the love-driven need to save her.

I had sworn to be there for her. I had to be. It was all that mattered.

An explosion ripped outward, tossing me like a kite in a hurricane from the resulting multiple concussive waves of force. The complex circle, its names, its sigils, its power, detonated into billions of streaming sparks, visible now to everyone and not just to that inner sight. The shock wave scorched the dirt where I had been standing, shattered the van’s windows, and knocked everyone else to the ground. Twin vortexes of fiery light flashed behind me though the air and set distant trees instantly aflame.

I found myself airborne.

And Danielle was falling rapidly towards the hard ground of the island below.

With a wordless cry of will and need I sped towards her, the unleashed energy now flowing free. No longer a trickle or even a faucet, it was a flood washing away any remains of the dam that had been keeping it in check. The lake billowed with steam as I flew across the waters to intercept her terminal trajectory.

No! I am commanded not to fail!

Tsáyid emitted a raven shriek and panther’s roar, plunging into his own dive to race towards our shared target.

Sight blurred as everything I had within was shoved into raw speed.

I got to her first.

Arms clamped around her protectively before the beast collided into my back and talons ripped through skin. I hugged her close, trying to wrap her within all the light that I could muster.

“You shall not have her, you bastard!”

Pain blossomed from the repeated slashes into my neck, along my back, and across the wings of light that held us aloft. But it didn’t matter. I had her.

His efforts became desperate. To his dismay, each slice only cast forth even more brilliance before swiftly closing over. He shifted tactics, trying to grapple instead to get those claws, both raven and forest cat, past me and into what I had sworn to keep and defend.

A symbol formed in the mind’s eye, and without hesitation I shouted the word it formed.

Another tremendous blast of light burst forth into the startled gryphon and launched him back towards shore. I flew after him, consumed with the need to take him down.

He recovered in the air, trying to drive back towards us. Again I shouted the word, sending a wave of light smashing into - and through - his essence.

The Light! It burns!

I hit him with it three more times until the last punched him into the wet earth by the water’s edge.

With those last hits he hadn’t been trying to attack, rather he’d unfolded wings from the tumbling as if only to bask in what I was throwing.

As we reached the shore Tsáyid had crouched on all fours, feathered wings smoldering against scorched fur with head and torso held low to the ground.

He was kneeling. And this time when he spoke it was not mind to mind.

“Lady, I beg thee! End me while the Light of All has weakened the Master’s grip!”

What?

Danielle, her voice weak, whispered, “He’s a slave. Help him. It’s not his fault.”

Landing besides the crater formed by the gryphon’s impact on the lake’s shore, I gently set Danielle on her feet - making sure she was able to hold herself up. The wounds on her shoulders were already starting to heal, faster than her regeneration normally was capable.

“Quickly! Before the Master rips me from this host!” Tears of desperation fell upon raven cheeks.

Stepping forward, I hesitated and looked back at Danielle.

“Hurry!” she pleaded.

“How do you know?” Not that I wanted to doubt but this was the same asshole who had sliced my throat from side to side and had just tried to kill her!

“Because I know who his master is!” she cried. “I’ve felt that energy before in my dreams of the past; it uses people as if they were puppets!”

Reaching out a glowing hand to Tsáyid’s forehead, I needed to check for myself.

~o~O~o~

It was like peering through an immense gallery measured not in years or even centuries, but eons.

Tsáyid had once been an angel of the Host, a Kerubim.

Pictures danced. He fought alongside six squad-mates as they stood against a terrible Darkness. It lacked all definition yet threw entities of endless appetites towards all the intrusions of light and order pushing outward into its depths.

They were raw patterns of energy, him and his squad. But those patterns had meaning. Raven. Lion. Hawk. Bull. Tiger. Eagle. Panther. And Man. The essences of the patterns of physical creatures not yet in existence echoing across the dreamspace within which the Kerubim fought and lived.

Each were unique in form and style, and each were bonded together by their struggles, fighting as one and healing together after mighty and victorious battles.

They were beings full of light, of laughter, of love, and an absolute singular dedication to defending the domain assigned to their care.

They were beautiful.

And they were part of something larger than themselves, bound to the infinite purpose of a greater whole. Their light and their hearts flowed freely to and from this unimaginably vast collective, and their names fit the perfection of their assigned places. His name among them had been Tsáyidiel, God’s Hunter.

He was that no longer.

Only weeks prior had I seen into a girl’s soul that was under attack by a demonic force, manifested as cruel tentacled barbs digging harshly into her inner shine. It had been heart-wrenchingly awful to behold.

This was, in its own way, worse.

I had already blasted him with the light, over and over, and his ancient energy channels yearned for any traces and echoes of the power which had burned its way through.

But those remnants of brilliance faded into darkness as if a deep internal pain could do naught but swallow all that might glimmer. Something else shoved and forced itself through those very channels that once had been glorious with creative purpose, something twisting and spoiling every passage it touched.

A cruel miasma, similar in horrible purpose to Tamara’s demonic force, had been internalized so deeply that in truth Tsáyid was but a husk being manipulated and used by the foul sludge pushing through the veins.

With a cry of dismay, I shoved light into that pattern, trying to burn away the infectious invader. All thoughts of subtlety were lost, it was a reaction born of pure instinct.

“It won’t do any good.” A voice, full of sadness, reached out to me. I recognized it immediately.

“Raphael! Help me heal him!”

“I cannot.”

That couldn’t be right. “He’s an angel and you are God’s Healer! There must be a way.”

“It is not possible,” he replied with a deep and ancient sadness. “This one has fallen beyond all hope. Look here.”

Attention was drawn towards the center of Tsáyid’s spirit. Where a word of immaculate fire had once been inscribed with loving care, now was naught but a hollow cave, the remains of his word now dark, smeared, and unreadable.

In its place a darker symbol, like a black hole devouring all traces of light, lurked within. This was the source of the black ichor growing stronger with each passing moment.

“He fell from grace, little one. And in a moment of desperation he turned to another to take up Father’s place within his heart.”

I felt sick.

“Look at the pattern again,” Raphael continued gently. “It is only the invader’s will that keeps the whole coherent. Without its influence and control, the entire fabric would collapse into lost shards streaming towards the Abyss. His own will is lost, incapable of maintaining his own existence.”

“Danielle was right,” I said, wanting to cry. “He’s a slave. Who did this to him?”

I had no form in this place, but still there was a sensation of a comforting touch. “He did it first to himself, but it is Azazel who has conquered his will and bound him. And if you do not hurry, this one’s terrible lord will pull him out of your reach, re-bind him to another hapless mortal avatar, and continue our brother’s endless suffering.”

“He asked me to end him.”

“For one such as him that is only a mercy.”

Images of this hunter’s former glory flashed past. What could have driven such a shining being to fall into a despair so powerful that he’d accept giving himself over to such invasive evil? The foul stench from the creeping muck flowing out of that rotten heart was overbearing. How long had he suffered so?

“Danielle wants me to save him.”

“Once broken, Father’s grace does not return to our kind. This name has been lost, forever and always.”

I couldn’t accept it. Had Tsáyid tried to fight against the orders from his master? Rebel against the evils that he had been commanded to perform? He had almost killed me, but he had seemed oddly reluctant to do so. Not to mention, if he had just cut off my head back at my old house when I was at his mercy that would have been it for me.

But he hadn’t. He only sliced my neck open and departed. Just like a cheap comic book villain leaving the hero (or heroine) a chance, albeit small, to survive.

Had that been deliberate? Reaching out, I touched Tsáyid’s memory of our first encounter, back to when he had tasted my blood as ordered by the cruel corruption pulling on his strings.

And I understood.

That blood had flashed through him like lightning, a reminder and literal taste of all he had once been and all he had lost. What was left of his spirit, corrupted even as it was, still deeply mourned the loss of his former comrades and that glorious unity, and he had shouted forth that tremendous internal agony, destroying the rest of Mark’s SUV in the process.

He cut my throat, yes, but deep inside he had hoped I would live. He had risked awful punishments from his enslaver - ones he had suffered before and which even the quick flashes from his memories caused me to shirk away in horror. He had deliberately given me a fighting chance to live at huge risk to himself. A chance which, with Soren’s arrival and guidance, had been successful.

I didn’t want him to die and I couldn’t leave him enslaved.

“Let him go. There is nothing you can do,” Raphael urged.

“Maybe so, but I don’t care! He earned a chance. And I promise you, he will get it.”

Emotion and will aligned, forming a standing wave of power threatening to grow without end. The brilliance crashed inward as a tidal wave flooded into the canyon of my being, rapidly rising above all limits of any rational capacity.

The decision within my heart had obliterated all restraint.

Raphael, always so calm and self-assured, reacted in alarm. “Wait, please, you could damage yourself!”

I doubt I could have stopped even if I had tried. That inrush of light overwhelmed everything, having latched onto the promise with a fierce resonance binding it to the blinding pillar stretching into the infinite. Burning with the power of a billion suns, I cried out not only from sheer pain, but also from the ecstasy that lay beyond the agony. There was only one thing to do before being consumed completely: I threw it all into Tsáyid’s core, directly at the place where once had been written something beautiful and transcendent. His former name still glimmered in the echoes of his past and I grabbed the memory of that name with all that I had.

The dark invader corrupting his heart screamed as it burnt and shriveled under the onslaught, black flakes peeling off and falling away as dust and ash. A field of despair and rejection of hope tried to coalesce and push back, but the infinite light focused to an impossible spear-point and drove the unyielding white fire right through.

Where I ended and the source began became meaningless for I was the light and it was me. There was only a cacophony of emotion and driven focus swarming the senses: a song of love and a need unknowable, so powerful in its desire and intent that nothing in existence could withstand a single unfiltered note.

And yet this symphony underlay and upheld all.

Being merged and lost within that torrent, I began to understand. Everything that was, the entire universe - or universes, as there were realms upon realms upon realms all piled onto each other yet distinct within their own individual resonances and layers - all was created by this primal energy.

Because it moved.

The substances of physicality, the substances of spirit, of emotion and of wisdom, of all life and the magic it generated, all were created by the endless dance of this light. Every idea, every atom, every flow of manna, every thread of spirit, all existed by virtue of the motion of this endless light in expression of its desire that all things be continually created.

With every bounce and leap of its ceaseless passing a symphony comprising all things emerged from the eternal dance of the infinite.

Here and now it flashed into Tsáyid with glorious purpose. Through energy channels rigid and drenched in the molasses of dark despair for years uncounted the hot and bright fire now spiraled, cleansing with both a mercilessness and a tenderness every last strand within the skein of that spirit until it too sang in perfect harmony. Like electricity overheating a coil until the metal burned past the glowing red into blinding white brightness, the weaving of darkness and grime vibrated with rising intensity until a pattern as pure and shining as the day it had been created blazed forth anew: a reforged extension of the very power that had claimed us.

At his center, as the torrent began to calm and recede, a name burned once again to sing its joy in letters of multi-colored fire: Tsáyidiel.

That wasn’t all.

Above the name, indeed anchoring it in place and fueling its fire, sat a promise engraved by the purity of the endless source.

Tsáyidiel’s spirit sounded one final mighty note as the light’s work completed, shouting its blinding glory. As focus faded a sense of self rebounded, causing the vision of spirit and source to drop away. But as I staggered and fell to weak knees back in the physical world I distinctly heard Raphael cry out in awe and fear.

“What have you done?”

Then his presence was gone.

~o~O~o~

Lying on the sandy ground was an unconscious and scrawny man wearing nothing more than boxer shorts and a sleeveless grubby t-shirt. Not that I should cast any aspersions on his wardrobe choices as other than the amazing Cecilia-crafted purple two piece bikini my own attire had been reduced to a few slips of shredded rags merely waiting for a nearby sneeze to fall off the rest of the way.

Oh, and my hand was resting on the guy’s sweaty forehead below stringy and unkempt grey hair. It was sticky.

Standing up, the world swayed and flickered. I might have fallen had Danielle not been there to put a hand on an arm. Her touch offered steady coherence, much like Raphael’s had done in the dreamworld when I was being wacky-scanned.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Turning, my first concern was her - but all her wounds were gone, not a single mark or scar remained from where claws had scraped bone. She was also covered by a thin sheen of ice. “I think so,” I stammered while looking about to get a measure of the damage.

Oh boy. The lake behind Danielle now sported a large section by the shore completely frozen over and judging by her icy armor she must have come from there. The wreckage done to the forest was extensive: treetops were still aflame, spitting wild sparks.

Back at the crumpled remains of the van Penelope peaked around a shredded bumper while Jenna and Brendan came running towards us after abandoning the partially melted shelter. Jenna was in full stone skin mode and had lost her clothing. Her armored skin was weirdly not grey as usual but instead this glossy shade of ebony. She was like this human-shaped black mirror reflecting the inferno from the trees above as she ran. It was remarkably beautiful.

“Wow, look at those wings!” Danielle exclaimed. Just as I had been trying to take in the scene, Danielle had been checking out what was behind my shoulder blades.

Twisting to the side, sure enough there were two glowing wings of gold spilling out of my back made up of white feathers forged from the electrified filaments of a thousand lightbulbs. Whoa.

I tried flexing to move them, and to my astonishment they did. I was aware of both the wings and the energy coursing through the veins of each individual feather. While I was distracted by this discovery, Danielle suddenly jerked backwards a couple steps and her hand fell from my arm.

The distant crack of a rifle’s gunshot followed quickly after.

“Jordan?” Pale blue eyes looked at me in surprised shock. Her knees buckled as she collapsed and thick red blood poured down her chest melting the ice still covering her skin.

Chapter 6 - Missing

Gunfire echoed through the forest.

I was screaming, but I don’t remember what. Danielle was on the ground bleeding heavily from the spot over her heart and I was lying over her trying to keep her covered because Lieutenant Forsythe had shouted that there were multiple snipers and for everyone to get down.

Jenna was struck as she got close, the impact causing her to tumble forward like a dark shadow projected on a screen behind a mad trapeze artist.

“Jenna! No!” Brendan, only a few steps behind her, dove towards where she lay.

From where she hit the dirt out of view Jenna shouted, but not with pain. “Wow! I’m fucking bullet proof! Jordan, stay there!”

With that she was on her feet charging into the woods. Brendan, fury replacing shock, gave chase while lines of force wavered in the air around him. More gunshots, but this time coming from Mrs. Cantrel and the Lieutenant’s position by the van.

Lt. Colin Forsythe was returning fire.

There was a loud ka-chunk, and a small cylinder hit the path between us and the parking area. It spewed out a tremendous amount of smoke, covering everything and making it impossible to see.

My hands were trying to keep Danielle’s blood from spilling free. They were glowing, attempting to help her as I had once helped Mark.

But there was an awful lot of blood.

Mrs. Cantrel’s emerged through the smoke piloting the hover chair, expression determined and focused. In rapid succession the dark-skinned woman visually examined me and Danielle, flicked at the controls to launch another smoke grenade out the back towards the snipers, and continued shouting into a wireless ear-mic that had been snapped into place.

“…at least two hostiles conventionally armed. One student down, repeat, one student down. The vehicle is disabled, our transport is gone. Request ETA on evac and medical!”

All I could do was stare down at Danielle’s pretty and unconscious face.

“That’s not soon enough!” Cantrel yelled into the link. “Dammit, Jordan…Jordan!” She nudged my arm with her chair. “Snap out of it, girl!”

I looked blankly up at her.

“Reinforcements and transport will take minutes to get here. From that wound, she doesn’t have that kind of time. Can you fly?”

Blinking, I remembered I still had wings - and power still flowed through them. And through me. The realization forced the world back into clarity. “I think I can, yes!”

From a hidden compartment she fished out a weird plastic mask contraption and tossed it over. “Put that on her, it will force air into her lungs. You can’t do CPR while in flight.”

I scrambled and slid the mask over Danielle’s head. As soon as it was in place her chest began to rise and fall from the gadget’s forced airflow.

“Now put this over the wound. It may not help much, but every bit counts.” She handed me a beige cloth-like thing, like those special ones used to dry cars, and I placed it against the raw bloody leak over Danielle’s heart. The strange cloth seemed to suck itself onto her skin - sealing the wound. A second one went over the exit hole in the middle of her back.

That done, I picked her up in my arms.

“Can you find the way to the campus?” Mrs. Cantrel demanded to know.

A moment of panic. I hadn’t paid any attention to the drive here and really didn’t have any idea where I was.

Mrs. Cantrel saw my face. “Don’t freak, girl - focus. You have a familiar. Some magic users can sense them, even from afar. Your cat, Khan, can you feel where he is? The roads don’t lead straight to get there, but a feeling will.”

Khan? How the heck…wait. My head snapped towards a direction over the lake and off to one side. For a brief second there was a flash of Khan scratching and meowing at the inside of the door to our room.

He knew something was very wrong.

“Yes, I see him! He’s that way!” With hands full, I pointed with my chin in the general direction.

“Then get her to Doyle as fast as you can without harming her further, understand? I will tell them you are on your way.”

More gunfire and shouting could be heard off in the forest and I hesitated.

“Don’t worry about us, just fly! Go!”

I took to the air.

~o~O~o~

Treetops rushed past directly below and a trail of light and tears followed behind.

I prayed to Raphael to get his help for Danielle, but I couldn’t feel him.

“Dammit, Raphael, where the fuck are you? She needs you…” Honestly, I didn’t know what he could have done to help, but I was furious that he didn’t answer.

Which is why I didn’t react very kindly when a presence popped up to the side and called my name.

“Jordan!”

I snapped before looking. “Raphael! Where the hell have you been! I’ve been calling…oh…shit, sorry Louis.”

Louis Geintz, a.k.a ‘Fubar’, had projected his mental self to ‘fly’ alongside us.

“Raphael?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s a new one.”

“Sorry!” I said again. “How’d you find us?”

“You mean other than looking off into the sky and spotting the incoming blazing comet? But listen, you need to follow me in. The wards detected Class X energies…and something else…in the vicinity. An opening will be made for you, and if you miss it, well, right now let’s just say I’m not sure which would win: you or the wards.” The roaring wind blew hair into my face while he floated alongside untouched in a perfect lotus sitting position.

“I’m getting her to Doyle. I don’t care what’s in the way!”

He nodded seriously. “My point exactly. Will you let me lead you in?”

Clutching Danielle closer, I tried to increase speed. “Do it!”

“Then go up a little higher. Here, follow.”

He teleported directly in front, pointing the way. The road leading to the campus was off to the right and I remembered that the wards extended a decent distance outside the actual official limits of the school.

He had us curve up further, and this time the wards were even clearer than when I had arrived. They comprised a solid wall of energy much like a huge soap bubble, including rainbow refractions swirling about on the surface. The pattern pulsed with active energy whereas before it had seemed passive.

As we went over the protective half-dome, it became obvious where he was guiding us. A circular section opened in the wards - surrounded by a slowly expanding wheel of sigils. I aimed for the gap and was through.

It closed instantly behind.

Swooping down we made a beeline towards Doyle where a gurney and crew of medical personnel already waited in front. One of the nurses was off to the side with a young female student who I didn’t recognize. The nurse was trying to get the girl inside, but they and everyone else gaped as we came in for a landing.

Laying Danielle as gently as I could on the gurney, I took a step back to give the medical team room to do their jobs.

Please, God, if you’re listening - take care of her! Please!

They rushed her into the building, shouting about starting an IV and getting her into surgery.

Louis put an awkward arm around my shoulders, trying to offer what comfort he could as we watched Danielle get wheeled away. “They’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

“They better.”

The young girl still stared at me through horn-rimmed glasses. Her face had gone very pale and she muttered, “Gabriel?” Wide eyes then proceeded to roll up into her head.

The nurse snapped free from her own astonishment at my appearance and managed to catch the girl before she hit the ground.

~o~O~o~

Jenna raced between densely clustered trees, each step launching her faster through branches shattering against her obsidian skin. Brendan was not far behind. She could hear each of his running steps, his presence a warmth following the same path that beckoned her forward.

The blinding explosion of light that burst from Jordan upon touching the gryphon had washed through her and Brendan both, and she knew they were riding the culmination of its pulse towards those who would snuff out all illumination if given the chance.

As she gave herself over to the music reverberating within, she offered up a quick prayer to a deity she had set aside after losing the most precious thing in her life.

The foliage ahead became a blur, yet each leaf was distinct and framed with clarity. Thunderclaps of the attackers’ guns registered within her perceptions, but her body had already danced to the side as if it knew beforehand the proper path to take to avoid the deadly rounds of lead which spiraled past.

Her blood sang with righteous fury and she charged with a fierce joy at the figures ahead, noting black clouds obscuring eyes set within expressionless faces. Her body was her weapon: a fist smashed the rifle of the enemy, tearing the front end of the weapon clear off. The opponent, a man shorter in height and dressed in the fighting fatigues of a certain extra-national organization, twisted aside and drew a knife. But she had already twirled about, catching his face with an elbow and forearm to scrape past his head and grab the back of his neck. Planting her feet, her other hand smashed the nose a second time and with his head now locked in a vice grip her coiled body unwound and hurled him into a tree-trunk. The wood disintegrated into splinters. Like a kata in Sensei Ito’s class, each move of the fight was somehow known, practiced, and laid out in a glorious sequence of efficient violence.

All she had to do was connect the dots.

Brendan grunted as a third unseen attacker shot through his leg as he closed the distance with the second. He didn’t falter or even flinch as he tackled the man before him, letting his larger size and momentum plow the foe into the rough ground. Jenna sprinted towards the new threat, determined to reach the similarly uniformed woman and bring her down.

Jenna’s perceived sequence of attack shifted. Behind her the first, who by all rights should have been incapacitated by the crack denting his spine, was on his feet anyway to give chase with a knife in each hand.

The two students instinctively moved to stand back to back, preparing to deal with attackers eerily connected by strands of wispy darkness just as the light bound the two of them together.

But while they were outnumbered, Jenna and Brendan were no ordinary opponents. With hearts echoing that drumbeat singing within the marrow of their bones, they raced along the path of glorious light so clearly charting the way.

As one they lashed out with a speed, strength, and fury beyond anything their foes could counter.

~o~O~o~

Within the most warded room in the hospital, I waited anxiously.

It had been over an hour and still no word from anyone - other than the nurse who had kindly brought over a pair of white sweatpants and a blank grey t-shirt.

She also had gently suggested that maybe I should go to my room and the further protections it provided. She (and presumably everyone else in the building) was obviously quite worried what I might do should they lose Danielle.

I had stubbornly refused to go. Let them worry and do their damned best to make sure that didn’t happen.

Louis clearly had wanted to stay and wait with me, but the pensive worry lines that remained from watching the other girl pass out led me to assure him he could go. If he could help the other girl he should. Reluctantly he had acquiesced and disappeared.

All I could do was alternately pace and try to sit in between throwing prayers at the ether and despairing at Raphael’s lack of response. So yes, I pretty much spent the time worrying myself sick.

I had powered down, causing the wings to flicker out and disappear. What was really weird was that the channels for them could still be felt as they were just waiting for energy to pour back in. Whenever the anxieties would peak, they would pulse - an instant alerting mechanism that, shit, I was pulling in power again without meaning to.

There was no longer any resistance to doing so. I had a sinking feeling I could go from zero to floodlight in less than an instant.

Which may have explained the nurse’s trepidations if they had figured that out too.

My heart skipped a beat as the door opened, all the fears leaping again. But it was only Jenna, dressed in ill-fitting Whateley Security fatigues. Oh, right. She had lost her clothes before she took off into the forest. She must have lost her wig as well, because her head was again sporting the post-stone-form baldness.

“Jenna!” I jumped to my feet and pulled her into a fierce hug. “You okay?”

“Whoa, there! I’m not armored!”

Chagrined, I let go. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright. Any word on Danielle?”

“No. They’ve just left me in here, saying she’s in surgery. Where’s Penelope and Brendan? Are they alright?”

“They’re fine. Penelope wasn’t touched, and Brendan’s leg is all stitched up. He’ll be good by next week.”

“His leg? What happened?”

She pulled me back over to the chairs, making me sit again. “The idiot got shot trying to keep up with me.”

“Doesn’t he have regen? His codename is ‘Tank’ for crying out loud!”

“He doesn’t understand it either, he’s usually bullet proof because of his telekinetic shielding. Whereas I’m not. But the rounds bounced off of me, and yet one went right through his thigh. They haven’t told us much other than something about those bullets being special, some kind of meta-poison-projection or magical field penetrators.” She paused before looking carefully at me. “While the docs clammed up on the details, they did say those rounds also nullified regeneration powers.”

“Oh god, Danielle.”

“Yeah,” she said, putting an arm around me. “It’s probably why they’re taking so long.”

I was shaking. “Did…did you guys get the shooters?”

“Kind of. They were MCO. Three of them. But they were messed up. Their eyes were like solid black, you know, evil. And they didn’t react normally, more like they were in perfect lockstep coordination. If it wasn’t for…” She stopped herself, staring at the floor a moment before continuing. “If it wasn’t for us being supercharged, we would have been toast.”

“I saw you - all black and shiny, not grey. How did you do that?”

“Jesus, Jordan, you don’t know? It’s because of you.”

“Me?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “When you touched that gryphon son-of-a-bitch, it was like a column of power just, I dunno, detonated around you. Hell, it launched Danielle into the lake, crushed the van, and set more trees on fire. When it washed over us my power went crazy. At first my usual grey stone popped out like half a foot thick all over - totally destroying my clothes - but then it’s like the rock concentrated down. I think the density it reached was insanely high. It didn’t even feel like stone, just like this smooth skin covering.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Brendan was right,” she said while letting me lean against her. “You can supercharge powers. He can normally only shield himself, but while we were fighting those three hand to hand? I’m pretty sure he punched one of them without actually touching them.”

“But his defense wasn’t enough to stop their bullets.”

“Forsythe says those things were really nasty pieces of work.”

I swallowed. “If the doctors were able to help Brendan, hopefully they’ll know what to do for Danielle.”

“Yeah.”

We sat silently for a minute before I asked, “What about the unconscious guy on the shore? Was he alive?”

She nodded. “Alive, and he woke up once on the trip back.” She winced. “That was creepy.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“He woke up crying for his mom, with this thick English accent. When we asked who he was, he only said his name was ‘Billy’ and kept demanding his mom. He looks totally over fifty, like old and stuff, but he sounded really young. Mrs. Cantrell asked him his age.”

“And?”

“He claimed to be nine so she asked him what the year was. He got real confused and blurted out that it was nineteen sixty-six.”

“Holy shit.” I shivered. I had a horrible suspicion about what had happened to the guy.

“He had a panic fit and they had to restrain him; they even gave him a shot of something to knock him out. Mrs. Cantrell was really disturbed, I could tell that much, but she wouldn’t explain why.”

“I think he was Tsáyidiel’s avatar host.”

“Tsáyi-what?”

“The gryphon. That’s his true name. He was under a…a really nasty compulsion. I think Billy is an avatar mutant, likely a high level one. And Tsáyidiel was bound to him, so that he could manifest through Billy’s powers.”

She thought about it for a moment, and looked sick. “Wait, that would mean…”

“Yeah,” I said. “Billy’s mind, if not his whole soul, has probably been completely suppressed for forty plus years.”

“That’s fucked up.”

I couldn’t even imagine how much help Billy was going to need. He’d lost over more than three quarters of his life, and now was in a time extremely different from what he’d known. Hopefully the school could find his family, even if his parents were probably retirees by now. I was pretty sure that he and Tsáyidiel weren’t bonded anymore as that connection severed before the light crashed full strength into the gryphon’s pattern. Good thing too. I’m not sure a human’s spirit could have survived that kind of power.

“Oh!” Jenna said. “I didn’t tell you the rest about those MCO assholes.”

“Are they in custody? And how do you know they were MCO?”

“They were in uniforms. And that’s just it, me and Brendan fought and chased them through the forest, right? We gave them a good beat-down and finally knocked them out of commission. But when the Lieutenant arrived with the armored security squad and went to pick them up? With eyes closed and their bodies slack, they all laughed with this same really disturbing laugh. And they died, all three of them. They fought as if super-powered too, we…if we hadn’t fought like we did…” Jenna let go of me to cross her arms, hugging herself instead.

“With enchanted weapons, it’s a miracle you both survived. What were you thinking running at them like that?”

“We were…look, I can’t explain it, okay? We needed to take them down.” Jenna watched me for a long moment, studying my face. “Jordan, just what the hell is after Danielle and why? Do you know?”

“It’s a long story. And there is way too much for which I haven’t a single clue.” I was about to say more, but the door opened. Natalie came in, and I panicked. If they had sent Natalie, oh no…no…

Jenna took my hand and squeezed it, hard.

Natalie, looking a bit frazzled herself, simply said, “She’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. The surgeon expects her to recover.”

I choked out a sob and they both held me while the tears fell again, this time with overwhelming relief.

~o~O~o~

Natalie had already called Isaiah, and miraculously he’d answered. He was taking a red-eye flight and due to arrive in the morning. I wasn’t looking forward to having to explain to him how we had foolishly left the security of the campus, and how we’d severely underestimated how easily our enemies could find us if we did. Natalie had mentioned they were looking into how the attackers knew where we’d be, but so far the guess was something magical. Great.

They let me visit Danielle. I spent the next couple hours kneeling at her bedside holding her hand while listening to the heart monitor steadily beep. Once again, another hospital room, and another bedside for someone I loved so dearly it hurt.

Jenna insisted on sitting in a chair nearby where she’d pick up a tablet, poke at it, and put it down again. I knew she still had questions, but I really didn’t feel up to talking. She was kind enough to respect that.

The doctors had said Danielle should recover and be fine, especially as her regeneration had been picking up speed ever since they were able to flush the poison from the bullet out of her system. They said she should wake up by morning.

It all sounded reassuring, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong.

After awhile voices rose in the hallway, and as I slowly paid attention they resolved into Rabbi Kirov arguing with Circe.

“…but we know something of incredible power happened out there, and we need to find out what!”

“Patience, rabbi. Jordan will talk to you soon enough. I felt it too, naturally, but for now this is where she needs to be.”

“The echos reached colleagues in Israel. They report that their contacts with Above have all fallen silent. It is very worrisome!”

“Is Jordan or the school in any danger tonight from the repercussions?”

“I…I don’t know. But the MCO’s involvement-”

“They have no authority to intervene on school grounds, at least not without cooperation from the DPA. And the DPA Director has advised to sit tight.”

I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk about any of it, but if there was a chance of a further threat they needed to know. I got up, earning a weird look from Jenna who had obviously been listening in on the hallway conversation too.

“Watch over her, will you?” I said.

“You got it.” Jenna nodded, scooting her chair closer to the bed.

Stepping out into the hallway interrupted whatever Kirov had been about to say. Instead both him and Circe turned to me.

Despite the exhaustion, I forced myself to speak. “You want to know, so I’ll give a summary.”

The rabbi’s expression went quickly from anticipation to concern after taking in how I looked. “If you’re too tired…”

Holding up a hand I said, “Just listen, okay?”

He nodded while Circe gave me her complete focus and attention. Yeah, that wasn’t unnerving or anything.

I told them everything I could remember: the airborne fight with Tsáyidiel, Danielle wanting to free him, and Raphael saying it couldn’t be done and to kill him before Azazel took him.

And I described the light taking over and freeing him anyway.

Kirov’s mouth hung open, he was at a complete loss for words. Circe, however, narrowed her eyes. “Azazel.”

I nodded. “Yeah. That’s the name of his master, Raphael said so. Not like I know who that is, though.”

The rabbi recovered enough wits to speak. “A fallen Grigori, one of their leaders according to lore.”

I thought back to the dream of Gabriel discussing these Watchers as she’d called them. Nervous butterflies tried to fly in the stomach but sank like lead instead. “Well, that’s the asshole who wants Danielle to die while I watch. And who ordered Tsáyidiel to kill me before.”

Circe said to Kirov, “Go make use of your connections. Find out all you can about this fallen angel. Also inform the DPA, though I advise going through your brother to have a properly secure connection with which to talk to the Director. If you have friends in the Christian communities or other Abrahamic scholars, talk to them as well. They may have insights from their perspectives that we lack. Do it discreetly.”

He nodded with a face drawn and serious. “That I shall do. Jordan, you should rest - and likely should eat. Regain strength.” He turned to go, but then stopped and looked back. “And Jordan?”

“Yeah?”

“Raphael was correct. An angel lost from God cannot be recovered. As far as I understand, it is impossible and has never been done.”

“Then what the hell did I just do?”

He was both concerned and awed. “Perhaps a true miracle. And we had best find out.” With a nod to Circe, he hurried down the hall.

Circe put a hand on my shoulder. “You really should try to eat. So should your friend in there.”

“I can’t leave Danielle. I just…I can’t.”

“What if I stayed with her until you returned? Should anything change, I can have you paged at the cafeteria. I’m going to presume you lost your phone in the fight that destroyed your other clothes.”

Shit. She was right - my phone had been in a front pocket. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Until I get back? You’ll sit with her?”

“I will.”

Slowly I nodded, realizing that yeah, my stomach was really empty - the sinking butterflies didn’t count. Come to think of it, Jenna was also probably starving beyond belief.

She was, and so we went. Jenna didn’t even want to stop by Hawthorne and get one of her other wigs, saying that after the day’s events any snot-nosed punks that tried to make fun of her baldness could, in her words, go suck eggs.

~o~O~o~

The Crystal Hall was in the middle of dinner rush and packed to the brim with students.

Not feeling adventurous, I just slapped a couple slices of pizza onto a plate and grabbed an iced tea. Jenna must have felt similarly, as she piled a few cheeseburgers onto hers and called it good.

The whole cafeteria was abuzz with kids talking about what had happened. The tale had obviously grown in the repeated tellings: Tsáyidiel was described as having been as large as a house and instead of three MCO agents it was now a full squad of ten, no twenty. With devisor tech rifles no less.

As we passed some of the freshmen tables, however, one male voice spoke louder than his classmates.

“Too bad the MCO was too incompetent to get the job done, ain’t it.”

Magnus. The jerk who had accosted Danielle her first day here.

“ ‘A’ for effort, but ‘F’ for results,” he continued snidely.

Reaching an open table, I carefully put down my tray. “Watch my food, please,” I said to Jenna, and before she could try and stop me I walked back over to Magnus. I tapped him on a shoulder.

“Care to say that crap again?” I asked him, my tone strangely calm.

His buddies, those that weren’t too busy ogling me, quieted. But Magnus turned and stood up.

Huh, we were the same height.

“You one of those sidhe loving idiots or something?” he asked with a sneer.

In a tone somewhere below freezing I said, “I only know one sidhe, and yes, I care for her more deeply than you will likely ever understand. My question to you is, are you just a bigoted moronic child who can’t help but parrot the garbage he was raised with, or do you have even the slightest possibility of growing out of it and becoming a worthwhile person?”

“Are you calling my gran garbage?” His face twitched with rising anger.

“If she taught you to prejudge everyone with a disgusting bias then yes, I suppose I am.”

“You bitch!” The air around me on all sides solidified into glassy barriers of force as he activated his powers. He even put a top on the box. “I’ll crush you!”

The translucent walls he created tried to compact the space with me still between them.

Thing was, they were just made of energy which flowed outward from his aura. Barely anchored energy at that. Holding up a single finger, a pulse ripped at the pattern of light underlying his magic and focused it all instead to that fingertip.

The entire hand burst into white flame, and I drove the point directly towards his forehead with a blur of speed as if meaning to burn through his skull and set the lack of brain on fire.

But I didn’t. The fingernail stopped millimeters above the skin right between his wide eyes, while the rush of air generated by the swiftness blasted into his face and through his hair with a small sonic boom.

He was too stunned at the speed to raise his hands or try anything.

“Hear me carefully, Magnus,” I said, holding that burning finger ever closer to his forehead. “The sidhe you accused the other week as being one who would enslave the human race begged me, earlier this very day, to free a slave who had only moments before driven claws through both her shoulders and tried to kill her.”

Magnus swallowed, his face pale with fear of the white flame before him and of the crazy equally flaming-eyed girl holding it.

“Ask yourself,” I continued, “whether your hate will help your cause or if it is more likely to poison her pure heart towards you and all the other humans, and thereby become the source of a self-fulfilling prophecy and cycle of pain.”

“What…what are you?” he stammered. He tried to raise his shield-wall again, but that only caused the finger to grow brighter.

“Were you raised a Christian?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to use his power.

“Y…yes…”

“Then consider me a messenger from the Lord with a warning for your soul. And do not test my patience any further.”

I slowly pulled back and, with eyes locked on his, blew out the dancing flames before stepping calmly away past the astonished faces of the other students.

As I sat down back where Jenna was waiting, she casually pointed at my pizza. “It’s getting cold.”

We ate.

It took a few minutes of silent chewing for it to hit me. I had no idea how I had just done what I did. It was all reaction without thinking and just, well, doing it. Like being in a dream, with that weird intuitive knowledge you get where you just do and say stuff automatically because you’re following the dream logic and story.

That feeling still remained. The solidity of the world had gone, like the illusion had been pierced and I should wake up any moment. But where would I awaken to?

Breaking through the mystical limiter that had given boundaries to the energy had changed me, and more than just the gain of those fiery wings. And clearly from the conversation with Magnus, the subconscious no longer considered me to be one of the humans along with him and everyone else.

Deep down, it knew different.

Even Jenna, who normally would be trying to cheer me up or something, sat there quietly eating hamburger while lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t tried to stop me from confronting Magnus. What had she really seen or felt by the lake? Was she afraid of me now?

She caught my stare and put down her burger. “You okay?” she asked, looking at me warily.

“I don’t know. You?”

She hesitated, as if debating on what to say. “I’ve never been in a real fight before. Not like this.”

Oh. How stupid can I be? Her fight with the MCO thugs…“Sounded scary, but you did real well.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” she said, pushing tomato back under a bun to prevent its escape. “When they started shooting and that bullet bounced off? I just charged in, as if I was invincible. It was like I was high on adrenalin or…”

“Or overdosed with power. Thanks to me.”

She slowly nodded. “Yeah. Totally unreal. Like a crazy video game.”

“Still feels that way.”

“You in shock? I’ve heard that can happen. I mean, we only caught the edge of that font. You were at the center. You really…” She hesitated. “You really are something different, aren’t you?”

I winced.

“A real angel,” she continued. “And not just as a spirit, you know, with a human body.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I don’t think I can deny it anymore.”

“Plus something out there is hunting you. And those close to you.”

Staring down at the slice of pizza in my hand all I could do is nod. “Something old and terrible. Evil. And I barely know anything about it.”

“That’s messed up.”

The slice fell back onto the plate. “It…it’d be safer to-”

She cut me off. “If you even think of saying it’d be best to not be your friend, you should shut the fuck up right now.”

Startled, I stared up at her. Her eyes had hardened. “But-”

“No. Being hunted or chased by big and nasty things or organizations is like a damned tradition at this school. Heck, most of us obvious mutants get hunted in general anyway. So this enemy of yours doesn’t make you special. Okay, sure, it sounds all darkly powerful and shit, but you know what? You’re going to win. And we’re going to help you, however we can.”

I didn’t know what to say, and she kept talking.

“I’ve never been one to really believe in God, or any of that stuff. Especially after…after losing my brother. I mean, sure, I knew spirits and magic were real, but since you got here you’ve saved Evie, saved Tamara, and today you saved Danielle and fought off a monster. And when that blast wave hit us? It didn’t feel like magic.”

She shook her head. “It was something different. Something holy. I can’t explain in words properly, but there it is. We must be meant to help you. It gave me the power today to do so, and it felt like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I tried to shift my skin in private in the restroom at Doyle, and it’s back to being the usual grey stone. I’m not bulletproof, not to long arms fire like that. But today I was, because of the divine. Because of you.”

“Because of me, you could have been killed!” I protested. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you!”

“I know. We all know you would do anything to keep us safe. So let us try and do the same for you.”

“Us?”

“Me, Brendan, and I’m sure if you asked, Evie, Leland, Zap, and Tamara all would say the same.”

“I…” Words died in my throat. Yep. Overwhelmed, that was me.

She managed a tired grin. “Just shut up, eat your pizza, and let’s get back to check on Danielle.”

I obediently shoved pepperoni and cheese past my teeth. But after a couple bites, something popped into my thoughts and I had to ask.

“Hey, Jenna?”

“Yeah?”

“Was it a green or red flag today?”

She paused, looked up at the color displayed over the cafeteria doors, then snorted a giggle. “Seriously?”

“Don’t want to get more detention, Mrs. Cantrel will run out of things for me to clean!”

That earned an even louder guffaw of laughter. I joined in.

~o~O~o~

We remained punch-drunk from the day’s events during the rest of our dinner and all the way back to Doyle. Whenever we’d fall quiet one of us would just go ‘flag!’ and kick off more giggles.

The mirth, however, fell away when we got back to Danielle’s room.

Circe was there as before, but now Louis and another man I didn’t know also stood next to Danielle’s bed. The newcomer had on a western-style leather vest, jeans, boots, and even some turquoise beads around his neck. Weirdly I could sense a powerful spirit either within him, or lurking nearby. It was an odd sensation and knowledge.

All three were way too somber for the gathering to be anything good. The air was thick with deep concern and worry.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, pushing myself past them so I could see Danielle, leaving Jenna in the hallway. Danielle was still on the bed, still breathing, and the heart monitor beeped normally.

It was Louis who answered. “Physically, nothing - and that is the concern. Jordan, can you see her spirit?”

Her spirit? I frowned, focusing to open myself to the other side of things. Immediately the room shifted and now there were four people in it. Circe was like a solid green flow of magic, Louis was clearly his projected self with the tether-line flowing up and out of the room towards Hawthorne, the new guy had a pattern that felt like a calm spring bubbling in pristine woods, and the fourth was an older native man hovering behind the new guy all dressed in traditional leathers decorated with beads and feathers, with a worn face to match.

Danielle, though, was missing. Her spirit was just…gone.

“No!” Knees failed, the guy in the vest caught my elbows and gently lowered me to her bedside.

“Her spirit is traveling,” he said. “But to where, we do not know.”

“Charlie,” Circe said. “Can you trace it?”

The man shook his head. “If there is an astral cord, we cannot see it. I can ask the spirits to search for her, perhaps they could find her depending on where she has gone.”

From what the rabbi and Louis had told me about astral projections, I knew that losing the connection between spirit and the body was really bad. “How long can she live like this? How long does she have?” I demanded.

Sad faces all looked at me, and Charlie answered. “A few days, perhaps weeks. Without a solid cord, the body will eventually give up. Though her natural regeneration could lengthen that time-frame, it’s hard to say.”

“How likely is it your spirits can find her?” He hadn’t sounded confident.

“Like I said, it depends. They can search the realms they know and travel. But not beyond.”

I felt cold. “That doesn’t sound reliable.”

“It’s the best I can do,” he said quietly.

Dammit, what good was it being an angel if I couldn’t protect one soul? Or even notice when Danielle’s got knocked free? Problem was, I hadn’t known to look and even if I could potentially go after it, I had no idea how to do that either.

Wait. I didn’t, but maybe - just maybe - I knew someone who did.

“Circe,” I said more forcefully than I probably should have. “I need your help.”

Eyes older than civilizations calmly regarded me. “How so?”

“I’m unsure of my control or even limitations after today. Come with me to my room, if you could, and stand ready to trigger your failsafe in case it’s…necessary.”

“What are your intentions, Jordan?” she asked curiously.

“I need to call out to someone who, if I’m right, should be able to find her no matter what spirit realm or place she’s gotten lost in. I don’t know how much power I’ll unleash if I do this and right now I don’t trust myself. I’m trying to play it safe.”

She considered for a moment, then nodded. “A summoning. Let me stop by my office and pick up a couple items and I’ll meet you at your room.”

I stood and leaned over the bed to kiss Danielle’s forehead. “Hang in there, sweetie,” I whispered. “I’m going to send help.”

Straightening, I looked at Charlie - and realized he must be Charlie Lodgeman, the same one who had tried to help Zap when Zap first shifted and got stuck as a hawk.

I said to him, “I don’t know much about such things, but I have read stories about it being dangerous for a body to be without its soul for too long. Making it vulnerable to evil spirits, demons, stuff like that. If that’s true, is there anything you can do to ward this room and keep her protected?”

He smiled gently, but the creases besides the eyes showed a deep weariness. He’d seen too many kids in these kinds of conditions, and the toll lay heavy upon him. “I was going to suggest it. Yes, I’ll stay here and do all I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything I can do?” Louis asked.

I shook my head. “If you can’t trace where to start looking for her spirit, then maybe go bug Natalie or whomever is trying to help Billy. He’s going to need all the love and understanding he can get - and make sure he’s protected both physically and spiritually. He was probably kidnapped and used for his high avatar ability and is wide open again.”

“I’ll check in.”

With one more gaze at my unconscious niece, I stepped from the room. Jenna, still at the doorway, backed up to let me exit. She wiped away the tears on her face and looked at me determinedly.

“You’re under my protection again. Where you go, I go.”

This time I knew better than to argue. I gave her a quick hug. “Okay.”

We headed towards Hawthorne’s attic and the triple circle that waited there. I really hoped I knew what the hell I was doing.

Truth was, I hadn’t much of a clue. But I was going to do it anyway.

~o~O~o~

When Circe arrived she asked Jenna to stand outside the attic room’s door and make sure we were undisturbed. Jenna reluctantly agreed though she was clearly not happy about it.

I had given Khan some attention. The poor little guy had really made a mess of the inside of the door, he’d left deep grooves. I checked his paws to make sure no claws had broken off, fortunately they were all intact. For his part, he kept wanting to bonk foreheads with me - at least until I put the fresh food down for him. He had his priorities, though he did pause to give me a look until I told him it was okay and he should eat. He tucked in.

Circe had been busily preparing a separate part of the floor for herself. With chalk and a small amount of her own blood she marked a new circle in a corner and inscribed a pentacle within it.

“I’ll stand here. Do you have a technique you are going to try?” she asked.

The king-size bed was still shoved to the side out of the triple circle from the day’s earlier practice sessions. “Not really, figured I’d power up, try to reach across - maybe to the space I keep going to in my dreams - and then shout until he answers.”

“Raphael?”

I shook my head. “No, not him. I think earlier today scared him off.”

Her brow lifted in surprise. “An archangel scared? You didn’t mention this to the rabbi.”

“Nope. Haven’t decided whether I want to yet or not. I like Kirov, but if he gets too excited? I’m not certain he won’t let something slip to a colleague and start a religious mess. Attention like that is the last thing I need right now. Which is why I didn’t invite him to this - even if contacting angels is more likely his area of expertise. Honestly, if he were to overhear any of this he might soil his pants.”

“I agree. And I appreciate the gesture of trust you’re extending me.” She nodded with approval and stepped inside her newly protected area. “I am ready. Good luck.” Khan took a seat on the floor at her side, just outside the markings. He watched me expectantly, as if he knew I was about to do something and he too would be ready just in case.

I pulled off the t-shirt, still wearing the purple bikini top underneath. I didn’t want the borrowed shirt to get ruined with what I was about to do.

After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped into the center of the circles: three rings surrounding a six-pointed star with each ring inscribed in very different styles of symbols and languages. This time I could feel the change from crossing their boundaries. It was like I became mostly cut off from the world beyond the lines. The middle circle had originally been designed to just anchor and hold me, but after making a mess of my dreamtime it had been modified to let awareness slip back and forth.

The outer circle, of course, was Circe’s failsafe to launch the inner contents beyond all the worlds if the energy levels became dangerous to the school. Or the planet.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Every time I had powered up before I had to deliberately open up, pulling the brilliant energy into that spiritual well. This time was different. I realized that since powering down at the hospital I’d been unconsciously putting effort into seeming human, my own will restricting the flow to maintain the appearance of being nothing more than a sixteen year old girl. But I wasn’t human. And as much as that scared me something awful, I embraced the idea because right now I had to.

Danielle needed my help.

The restrictions both in my mind and my spirit fell away and wings spread instantly out behind, feathers and skin filling the room with that brilliant effervescent glow.

It felt natural. It felt right.

Waking up in the hospital that first day with an exemplar body and its lack of aches and pains and ease of breathing had been a similar experience, only this was so much more. I just was, and it was glorious.

I could have spent hours reveling in the sheer sensation of it, but there was work to do.

For over a month my dreams had drifted to those cliffs overlooking an ocean. In the sky above were usually clouds that occasionally carried a floating city. The path to that place had been taken whether I willed it or not, but now I reached for it deliberately while awake and still standing in the physical world.

I pictured that scene lying behind the balcony doors, and in that vision I stepped forward to open them wide and let that ocean breeze flow into the room. As feet passed the second circle there was a tug of resistance, but a quick determined push carried them past. Moving both in the physical and spiritual realms, the distinction had washed away.

Standing in the open double doorway I called outward into the bright yet sunless sky beyond.

“Tsáyidiel! If you can hear, I bid you come!”

As soon as I said his name I could feel him, like a warm cozy blanket that takes away a wintry evening’s chill. He was coming, and coming fast. I took a couple steps back inside as a large black raven swooped down to the floor just inside the doors.

Upon landing it was no longer a raven. On one knee was an angel, raven wings cascading upon his back to match feathers woven into long dark hair. His hands - correction, his dark furred paws - were placed on the ground as he bowed low.

“My Lady calls, and I answer.”

I felt the acknowledgment as a shiver through my spirit. “Are you…alright? Are you free from darkness?”

He raised a beautiful face of flawless skin and eyes deeper than the night. I couldn’t help it, I gently touched that face, aching for merging my energy with his. He was mine somehow, and I was his.

From that touch, he didn’t shrink away. If anything he trembled in ecstasy.

I took a half-step back, disturbed by the strength of that connection between us.

“My freedom lies in serving the Light,” he said as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “But I am unworthy, my Lady, and this dream is impossible. You are right to recoil from one such as I.”

“No!” Impulsively I pulled that gorgeous face against my chest, wrapping glowing wings around him. “No. I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” He was terrified, absolutely terrified, to believe in what had happened and his pain and fears surged through me. I couldn’t stand it!

He wept as I held him, paws folding around the small of my back, clinging to me fiercely. “It is too much, for this is not possible. Because I failed! I failed, and I fell, and I let the abyss claim and abuse me - and through me perform horrors. My Lady, I do not deserve this miracle!”

The reason for the connection between his heart and mine burned again in my perceptions, for a heart’s promise lay within him still and continued to be the source of the light shining through his reforged name. It was my promise that fueled him and kept him whole.

I pressed a cheek into the soft feathers woven through his hair. “Tsáyidiel, you have to believe. And if you failed in the past, remember the experience and don’t repeat the mistake!”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, still trembling. “We Malakhim, if we fail from inner weakness we can never be used again. For it was proven we were flawed, the name shown to be weak. A member of the Host must be impeccable, our tasks are too important to be risked and given to a failed instrument. So it is commanded.”

“Then listen to me, Tsáyidiel. Because if you were flawed before, you now must learn from it and grow stronger. I’ve known many flawed people. The ones who are worthy recognize their weaknesses and strive to work past them, to heal the cracks so they become stronger than ever they were before.”

“It cannot be done.”

“If it cannot be done, then why has the Light chosen you? Why has it used me to restore your name? Because I have a need for you, a task that only you can perform before it is too late.”

“My Lady, I…I do not know the answers. I know only of failure.”

Words flowed unbidden off my tongue. “Give yourself over to faith, beloved Kerubim. And find the start of your redemption in the completion of this need.” The words were more than advice. They were a command.

His trembling quieted and new resolve grew in response, causing that name to burn stronger still. “Give me your task, my Lady. I pledge myself to you and its success, unworthy as I am. For you have given me that which I never dared dream possible, and even the merest taste of it is worth more than my whole existence. Please, tell me, what is this sacred task?”

“You are God’s Hunter. Find my niece’s soul: Danielle Thorne, recently manifested as one of the sidhe. Her body lies in the medical facility here at this campus, but her spirit is missing. Find her spirit and bring it safely back. I will help in any way that I can, just tell me how.”

Those dark eyes flared with renewed purpose. “She is your family, and thus is she also mine. I can see the ties that bind us, and they will lead me to her. But I give warning that the flow of time between realms ebbs and shifts according to its own schedule. Please do not mistake any perceived delay in my return as a lack of haste in my efforts! No matter where in the planes of existence she is hidden, she shall be found as swiftly as these wings may fly.”

He stood and bowed deeply to me with a courtly sweep of an arm. “With your permission, I shall not delay.”

“It is given. Go hunt, and may the light be with you.”

“Through your grace, my Lady, it has been restored to me!”

Turning towards the ocean bluffs existing beyond the doors, he took three steps before spreading those wings as if to cover that bright sky with a feathery night and took to the air.

He shimmered before disappearing as he slipped between the realms. But if I focused, his heart could still be felt as if it were next to my own.

Closing the doors, I walked back within the three circles and, with a last glance at the ocean view, clamped down on the energies. Wings disappeared and I collapsed to the floor, shaking from the sudden nausea and fear that swept through me.

Circe knelt down nearby and offered a trash can. “Here.”

Taking it gratefully, I threw up. Still twitching, I managed to whimper, “Good grief, who the hell am I? Was that really me just now?”

The ageless sorceress frowned, worry lines clear upon her face. “That is an excellent question. But a phrase from my youth comes to mind: Tò peproménon phygeîn adýnaton. It is impossible…”

“…to escape from what is destined,” I completed without thinking. “Great, just great.”

She looked at me oddly. “You speak Greek?”

“Of course not,” I replied before realizing what I had just done.

The world spun as all blood fled my face, said face needing to be shoved back into the trash can due to the stomach’s continued decision that insanity and pizza should not mix.

Circe kindly held my hair out of the way.

Chapter 7 - Traps

He awoke in darkness.

Confusion assaulted senses, pain of sufficient alarming intensity breaking through what obviously was a medicated haze. Eyes open, but no light, and no sound.

Rolling clouds of dark and grey, crashing thunder under a water-deluged sky. Hovering above a grassy plain, watching as a tidal wave hundreds of feet high swept away all that dared stand before it. Voices screaming, crying out for help or forgiveness as the waters plowed them under, and knowing there was still time to save those he very much needed to save…

A sword of blazing crimson fire held point first against his neck prevented swooping down to those desperately wailing, forcing him to abandon those hoping against hope that the numerous winged figures framed by lightning in the rain above might lift them to safety.

No, that was just a dream, clinging to consciousness after waking up. Roll it back a bit further. There had been an explosion followed by pain.

Ah, progress. Keep going then.

Running, he had been running. Makes sense, but from what?

The underground vault. Running up the hidden staircase, cursing with each step.

Traps. Magical ones, cunning and complicated, with the second set proving much more difficult than the first had been.

Oh. He had screwed up. Miscalculated and triggered a backlash. The resulting blast launched him from the top of the stairwell and through a couple walls, protective spells on his trusty coat had done their best to keep him alive. But the force had still knocked his overconfident and foolish ass right out, leaving bruises on ego and body.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wright. I’d suggest trying not to move much as you have had a rough couple days.”

The voice - female, adult - perhaps late forties? Older? The accent was odd, British but not from England. Former colony perhaps. It came from off to the right and a distant echo indicated wherever he was, it was in a large open space.

Not a proper hospital room then, despite the IV needle shoved into the back of a hand.

She spoke again. “While I’m sure you would prefer to rest and recuperate, we have need to talk. Sadly, this is not how the approach is usually done, what with the smuggling you out of the hospital and such. But we believed you to be in danger which required us to move fast.”

“Danger?” His own voice croaked, throat parched and dry.

She ignored the question. “Do you know what is truly frustrating about holy men? They reach momentary enlightened states, gain access to higher levels and perceive things not meant for mankind. And then they proceed to scribble it all down on paper, even though they are quite literally incapable of ever reading, let alone understanding, a single thing they write. Then they leave these legacies of dangerous knowledge behind to their successors, akin to handing a bucket of live grenades to curious children. I’m sure you know of what I speak.”

“The Codex.” He flexed arms and legs slowly, discovering to his surprise that he wasn’t secured to the bed. Interesting.

“Yes, exactly. The Codex’s missing pages and other works like it. We know you were tracing the ancient language, the one mankind is not meant to read.”

“I thought I’d been discreet.” He coughed, the resulting pain providing a detailed map of the worst bruises over his back.

“I’ll be honest,” she said. “We were truly lucky in finding out about your efforts . And you yourself were equally lucky that we did, or else you would be dead by now if not worse.”

“Really.”

“I’m afraid so. There are many interested parties in such works, some less savory than others. We knew there were things hidden underneath the synagogue, things too difficult to transport safely during the riots in the forties and thus entrusted to the protective workings you endeavored to undo. Unfortunately, the men who had personally seen and knew what was down there died in the unpleasantness during the war in Europe. But if we are correct, at least one item buried and protected therein is a danger to you. And to me. Thus, you see, my concern.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You obviously did not have anything on you when we removed you from the hospital, but you had been working down there for many days. There was more than one magically sealed compartment, so I must ask which one did you trigger? And if you opened any of the others, where are their contents now? Your life, my life, and the lives of quite a few others may depend upon your answer.”

“Lady, you’ve admitted to kidnapping me. At the moment I’m also clearly drugged, so why would I trust and tell you anything? You haven’t even told me your name.”

“Because whether you believe me or not, we should be on the same side. And at the moment events are barreling forwards in ways no one could have predicted even as of last week. If we are to survive what is coming, we will need to work together.”

“Sounds like a bunch of horseshit, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

“It isn’t. Sadly, you still have not remembered anything. And we may not have the luxury of time to wait for you to do so.”

Remember? He thought through the events of the past week again. Vault one had been complex, but by virtue of Soren’s exhaustive mental training, he’d been able to map it out. A handful of pages were recovered, gibberish to him but he hadn’t had time to study them carefully. Their letters and symbols kept shifting on the page making such study tricky.

The second vault, though, was protected by wardings at least ten times as complicated. Whatever it contained was the true treasure of the site, of that he was sure. The third had appeared empty, but he hadn’t spent the effort trying to confirm the lack of another security illusion. The second was too tempting a focus.

All told, his memory seemed pretty good to him.

“I only worked on one alcove,” he lied. “Thought I had it figured out, but I was wrong. Way wrong. Hence…kaboom.”

“Is it still secure? Or was it a one-time protection?”

He chuckled and winced from the motion. “Why don’t you dig through the rubble and look for yourself?”

“Syrian security forces have the site contained. Someone with pockets deeper than ours is already there.”

“In that case, keep away from it. I can think of only one guy who might be able to get that damn thing open. The trap replenishes itself instantly, if my calculations are correct.”

As much as he didn’t want to give out information that much should be harmless. They’d either have figured it out by killing themselves, or not. Better to seem cooperative, if even just a little bit.

“One man? Who?”

“The inscrutable Callas Soren. Good luck getting him to help, unless you want to owe him one humdinger of a favor.”

“Soren.” She paused in consideration. “I recognize the name, but never have had the pleasure.”

Good. Then they probably didn’t know it was Soren’s work in Los Angeles that led him to the Middle East and this mess. Keeping it that way seemed like a decent idea. “Sorry, I no longer have his phone number. I lost it in a poker game; never try to cheat at cards against someone with precognition. So what now?”

“You should rest. Food will be brought shortly and I may have more questions, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Relax, Mr. Wright. If you stay right there for just a short while longer, I believe you stand to gain the answers to a number of your own mysteries.”

“Well, isn’t that a cryptic statement.”

“I suppose it is. Patience, Nicolas. Patience.” She must have been standing nearby, as he could hear footsteps walking away. Likely high heels, too. The sound of a heavy door opening, then clunk. Closed.

Not even a single glimpse of light had flickered from the door.

He waited in the absolute darkness counting out the minutes by mentally singing a pair of Eagle’s songs to mark the time. Witchy Woman and Already Gone. There had been no further sounds throughout so he decided that was enough. Time to see where he was being held and get the heck out.

Without sitting up he reached out with both hands. The skin still felt tight after healing the burns they’d received from catching the white fire of Soren’s ritual - the same flames that had consumed and then restored Jordan. The magical healer he had visited in Jerusalem could only do so much for this kind of damage, but he was grateful for what they’d accomplished. Flexing the fingers, he mentally aligned the tattoos which had survived on the palms and brought them together.

“Illuminatum!”

The spell, instead of emitting a soft steady glow as he’d intended, flared brightly like a camera with the flash stuck on. Feedback from the spell scorched still-healing hands to send pain cascading down nerves towards his waiting brain.

As the nerve-fire overcame his senses, he caught a glimpse of his surroundings: a warehouse-like room, at least two stories tall, with every surface covered in hundreds of circles and sigils. His own magic had just been used against him, triggering a connection with a working that must have taken months to get right.

A mocha-skinned woman in a simple long black skirt and creme-colored blouse stood over him. There had to have been two people in the room, both female and only one had exited - duping him into thinking he’d been left alone. The other had remained behind in perfect silence.

With a mind screaming with the pain from the backlash of the surrounding spell, his vision latched on to a silver pendant hanging around her neck. Dangling there was a strange sigil he did not recognize yet felt like he should know. It grew larger and larger and he fell into it, but as he did he heard the woman sigh tiredly.

“You always were a stubborn one, Barakiel. Sweet dreams.”

A crash of distant thunder pulled him under.

Light's Promise (Part 3 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 8 - Memories

Once the stomach agreed to at least a temporary truce, I’d gone back to the hospital to sit with Danielle. Now that I knew her spirit wasn’t there all I could sense was the hollow absence. Her body lay in the bed, heart pumping and lungs moving, but it was empty like a still life painting where the fruit bowl’s contents had been cruelly ripped from the canvas. What was left was only a blank outline of where Danielle’s spirit should have been.

It was wrong. So very wrong.

Charlie had set up funky looking wards all over the walls, floor, and ceiling. He’d scattered mandalas and dreamcatchers about and placed stones on the counters, windowsill, even on top of the fluids drip. There had been a weird resistance when I crossed the threshold, but whatever he had done must have decided I was safe enough and eased off.

Jenna sat with me while nervously fiddling with a small gold cross dangling around her neck. She must have put it on back in her room when changing clothes earlier. I’d never seen her wear it before. She’d insisted on keeping me company and had been pretending to read a book for English class in between glances every few minutes to see if I was okay. Which, to be honest, was not the case below the forced appearance of calm.

After all, let’s sum up:

Danielle was in a coma with her spirit lost in the never-never somewhere.

The truth was undeniable that I was no longer human by any stretch of the imagination, with seriously frightening powers sitting like a sickly-sweet cherry on top.

Tsáyidiel had been a fallen angel and was now not only restored but mystically bound to me. How the heck had I done that? Had that been God working through me? I had no idea how to tell the difference. Tsáyidiel might know but he, of course, was no longer around to ask.

Oh, and adding to the list was Natalie’s report on her conversation with the DPA about Nick. The last information they had on him was that he had been checked unconscious into a hospital in Aleppo but had disappeared later that night. They were busily trying to figure out whether he had slipped off by himself or if someone had taken him. What they could actually do about either scenario sounded extremely limited.

Yeah, I was not okay. Not at all.

That emptiness within Daniele where her soul should have been kept driving me nuts. “Hey, Jenna?”

“Mmm?” She looked up from the same page she’d been on for the last ten minutes.

“I’m gonna go get a drink from the vending machine downstairs. Want anything?”

“Just downstairs?”

I gave her a look. “Yeah. I don’t need a bodyguard for that.” I stuck my tongue out at her.

She didn’t smile. “I’ll take a Coke. Or a Pepsi if that’s all they have.”

With a sigh, I shuffled out of the room and down the hallway. It was after the seven o’clock shift change and the floor had gone quiet. Most of the rooms were empty in any case, so there wasn’t much for the nurses to be doing. This place was rather strange as a hospital when you thought about it: the building had a capacity far exceeding what a private school should ever hope to need. I had a feeling that their magical and devisor medical capabilities were off the charts. Ha, get it? Medical charts? Oh forget it. I didn’t feel much like laughing either.

Maybe the school took rich outside patients for super-specialized treatments. They could probably make a lot of money that way which would be a great source of scholarship funds.

Brendan had been put in a room halfway down the hall but when I quietly peeked in he was sound asleep. He was hooked to an I.V. line and to a heart monitor that pulsed steady and strong. They had to be giving him some crazy dosages of pain medications just to get an effect, one of the few drawbacks to being an exemplar. I moved on to let the poor guy sleep.

Further down the hall was an occupied room with the light still on and being nosy I snuck a look at whoever was in there. The board outside the door had said, ‘August Rose’, but that was not a name I knew.

A girl was propped up in the bed, busily scribbling in a notebook. Another I.V. ran into one arm and electrodes were stuck to a few places on her forehead leading to a separate device on a second pole by the bed. Its screen was displaying a colorful three dimensional brain that kept cycling through a fixed color palette not unlike old-school screen savers once favored by kids who liked dropping acid. Or so I’ve heard.

She was the girl who had called me ‘Gabriel’ before passing out after I had landed with Danielle outside. The floor must’ve creaked because she startled, looking up right as I recognized her.

“You!” we said in unison.

Eyes went wide behind her glasses while the brain monitor device started flashing hypnotic purples and blues.

“Uh, hi?” I ventured. “Can I come in?”

She nodded, still staring at me with some seriously dilated pupils. But after I stepped fully into the room she blurted, “You’re the angel! Holy shit!”

I cringed. “Yeah, guess I am.”

“That landing was so cool! But where’d the wings go?” She tilted her head, trying to see at my back.

“They, well…I put them away.”

“You can do that? Neat!” The blues shifted to reds and the purples into gold.

“What’s with the brain thing?” I said, pointing at the display.

“Oh that? I’m not really sure, but they wanted to monitor me tonight.”

“You saw us and then passed out. You okay?”

She shrugged. “I was having this horrible headache. Like knives from those commercials where they cut through nails were stabbing my head. Then I saw you land and it was like a bubble burst. The relief was so sharp it knocked me out.”

“Why’d you call me ‘Gabriel’? My name’s Jordan.”

“Hi Jordan, I’m August!” she said cheerily. “And as for that, well I had this trippy dream when I passed out.”

“Dream?”

Nodding, she put down the notebook. “Yeah, was really vivid. Think it started right when I saw you, actually.”

I pulled over the visitor chair to sit on its front edge, leaning forward with interest. “Mind telling me what it was about?”

“Oh sure! The angel Gabriel was showing me around this fantastic city of white marble, gold, and silver. It was huge! And almost too perfect, you know? With these towers stretching way up…” She gestured widely with her arms, the I.V. pole shifting as its line went taut. “You look a lot like how she was in the dream, probably why I said that. But she’s cuter. No offense!”

“Um, none taken?” The time-line didn’t make sense. She’d called out the name before she passed out and had the dream. But I didn’t want to interrupt.

“Anyway, I woke up in the room here all fuzzy headed. They’ve given me some sort of brain drugs that make me feel loopy. The doctor said my brain activity is highly unusual - those are the words he used - and they were concerned. I feel fine now, other than the meds.”

“Well, that’s good to-”

“Oh!” She interrupted. “They blamed you for it too.”

“What? Me?”

Nodding, she spoke quickly. “When I woke up they said there’d been a major magical event outside the school and that it was reverberating everywhere. The doc said you were the cause or at least very involved. They think I was overly sensitive to it and that’s what caused the headache. Then seeing you with wings and everything pushed my imagination into overdrive, and so I dreamed of being with the angel Gabriel. They told me not to worry about it, though they still stuck these things on my head.”

Crap, how loud of an event had it been? And would that happen every time the new wings came out? Argh, I hoped not. Being able to fly might be the only neat thing out of this entire mess. If they sounded some kind of spiritual gong every time I tried to use them, that would suck.

She kept talking. “I also saw some of my symbols in that dream, so I’ve been trying to draw them.”

Pushing aside thoughts of flying and magical radar systems shrieking worldwide, I asked, “Symbols?”

“I’m a magic user. The examiners think I have good potential. When I was little I made up my own symbols, drawing them on everything. Drove mom nuts. And one day they actually started working and affecting stuff! It’s why I’m here at the school. I’m not a mutant, but a ‘baseline magic talent’ according to the tests.”

“Mind if I see?”

She shrugged and handed me the spiraled sketchbook. “I’ve made up ones for the elements and basic spells. You know, like casting light or levitating small objects, that kind of thing.”

Flipping open the notebook, there were sets of wavy lines and scribbles. At first they seemed like random broken lines, arrows, and circular paths drawn on the page - heck they even seemed to shift and change while staring at them. But something clicked.

In a vision overlapping the physical page, each symbol came into intense focus as planar projections of complex multi-dimensional patterns. From that perspective they weren’t broken at all, rather they were representative of distinct and connected motions of energy weaving through the layers of time and space. The nuances weren’t clear, but the general shapes started making sense.

“Fire,” I said, turning the pages one by one. “Cold, wind, shielding…”

She gasped. “You can read them?”

“A little?” Feeling the rug getting yanked out from under my mental feet, I turned to the page she had been working on. A single rather involved symbol dominated the entire sheet of paper.

The image swam off the paper and I dizzily looked away. Meeting her curious eyes accidentally triggered a glimpse of the pattern softly glowing behind them: she was this symbol, or at least her spirit had been long ago. It lay there at her center, dim and forgotten, but not erased.

“Tamiel,” I mumbled. “Your name is Tamiel.”

Her jaw fell. “That’s what Gabriel called me in the dream!” The brain scan machine bleated loudly, sounding some kind of alarm.

I was no longer listening. A large chunk of memory broke free to swarm my awareness, picking it up like a paper airplane sucked into a hurricane and launching it elsewhere.

And else-when.

~o~O~o~

The inside of the thatched-roof hut was small yet cozy. Animal hides of various thicknesses covered both the floor and the seats of the wooden chairs dominating the center of the room. The chairs were embossed with intricate Celtic knot-work humming quietly with enchantments of home and tranquility. Tiny glowing will-o-wisps danced and fluttered about the support beams above, their glittering light blending into a soft pulsing illumination brightening the room.

“It’s been a long time, Fionna,” Gabriel was saying. “I’m saddened to hear of the loss of your parents and brothers. Your mother was a fine queen for your people, and always an exquisite hostess.”

A regal lady of the fae sat before Gabriel, two silver braids framing slender high cheekbones. A thin crystal circlet upon her brow was the only mark of royal status as her robe, while clean, was simple green linen.

“Your words are kind, Lady Gabriel. I must apologize for our inability to host such an honored guest in the style and jubilation as ought to be accorded, but alas - we have fallen upon hard times and in this age we are forced to be more reserved.”

Gabriel smiled sympathetically. “The conflicts and sundering of this world will take a measure of time to heal.”

Beyond the hut lay the village that had drawn the two angels’ attention as they flew over the island resting to the west of the larger continent. Following the lines of power running underneath the world, dim as they may have become, had led Gabriel to this settlement. Ancient standing stones had been erected nearby to mark the site of energetic confluence.

As she had hoped to find, the gathering of peoples here included remnants of the fae: sidhe, brownies, and the myriad of other fae creatures all huddling close to the font which still had power enough to preserve them.

Fionna snorted bitterly. “A measure of time, Lady? To your eternal Host that hovers close to the center of the Wheel of Time, it may not seem like much. But for those of us trapped here it may as well be forever. Our people are dying.”

“Most of the sidhe have departed, heading for other worlds. Why not do the same?”

Silver pupils sparked. “Those with the power to do so have already gone. False royals fleeing with their closest and most skilled retainers, leaving the rest of our folk who could not survive such a crossing behind. As my only surviving elder sibling is oath-bound as a Priestess of Gaia, the burden of Queenship has fallen upon my shoulders. The title of queen in this age is a mockery of what it once was, but I shall not abandon our folk, neither the mightiest warrior of the sidhe nor the smallest bogarts now forced to hide within wells run dry!”

Gabriel raised a hand in apology. “I am sorry, Fionna. We are still learning of the situation that has befallen this world, and we mean no offense. The Grigori were sent to assist, but the reality and the reports we have received are clearly in dispute. Making sense of it all and determining what must be done is why I have sought out the counsel of your fair folk.”

The queen rubbed the space below the delicately forged crown. “Your Watchers have been a mixed bag, archangel. Some have done what they could to assist the inhabitants here and our struggles, while others…” She paused, not wanting to offend her guest.

“While others,” the angel completed, “have consorted with humankind and bred abominations that do not belong on any world. And it took a minor scout’s retrieval of a human witness for us to even hear of these acts. The council is displeased, and the Chorus of the Grigori shall be held accountable.”

“But are they all guilty, Lady Gabriel? Some have only tried to-”

A tall hooded figure being pushed past thick curtains interrupted the fae queen’s words. The source of the shove followed, clad in gold and black armor with blood red-wings sweeping behind.

“I found this one hiding amongst the stones in a stream nearby.” Camael’s eyes burned under the helm covering his face. “Kneel, Grigori,” he said coldly as he forced the taller figure to its knees. “Give proper greetings to the Archangel.”

The figure, trembling hands trying to grasp at the fur-lined flooring, bowed low. Camael yanked back the woolen hood, revealing a face of beauty - both masculine and feminine - which was marred only by tears flowing over smooth skin.

Gabriel was out of her chair, gathering the weeping one into her arms. Wrapping instantly manifested dove-like wings around them, she shouted at the warrior. “That’s enough! Stand down!”

The battle-blooded angel took a step back and crossed his arms.

Hands clutched at Gabriel’s dress, and through a sob was whispered, “Lady Gabriel, I’m…so sorry…”

Sighing deeply, Gabriel looked up at the lady of the fae. “Forgive us, Queen Fionnabhair, but could you give us a few moments in private? We can move elsewhere if need be.”

The queen gazed concernedly at the weeping Grigori. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but a quick glance at the imposing angel by the wall caught the words in her throat instead. Coughing slightly, she rose to her feet. “I shall take my leave then, Archangel,” she said with a touch of frost to her words. “If you should have need, I shall be nearby.” With a nod first to Gabriel followed by a colder one to the warrior, she stepped outside.

The silence lay thick in the room. Even the will-o-wisps above held their breath, their dance motionless.

“Oh Tamiel,” Gabriel said gently as she brushed short dark strands away from the tears on the other angel’s face. “When last I saw you, your hair flowed to your ankles as a river under a starry sky.”

“We…we cut it,” came the quiet reply.

“’We’? You mean you’ve all cut your hair?”

A nod. “It was Sariel’s idea. A symbol of cutting our ties to the Host. He said it was something other exiles had done.”

Gabriel’s open hand shot up, forestalling the warrior who had taken a step closer in rising anger.

“But why, Tamiel?” she asked.

Anguish flooded the other angel’s voice. “We needed to go home, but we were abandoned! For ages, Gabriel…you don’t know what it’s been like!”

A low growl from under the helm caused Gabriel’s eyes to flash hotly with irritation. “Step outside, Camael.”

“My Lady, I am here as your protection.”

“As if you would have let them be armed in my presence. You do your tasks well, now allow me to do mine. That’s an order, Regent.”

With a curt bow, the warrior stepped through the hanging cloths covering the doorway, pulling in his wings so they could clear the narrower exit.

Gabriel shook her head. Rising, she lead Tamiel to the archangel’s former chair. “Sit. Here, have some wine.” Refilling a pewter mug from a pitcher on the floor, she handed it to the Grigori. “Drink, Tamiel, and speak with me.”

Tamiel took a slow sip, wiping the moisture from their face with a sleeve. Gabriel sat cross-legged on the floor before the chair, causing the Grigori’s eyes to widen at the impropriety of their positions.

“I need answers, Tamiel,” Gabriel said quietly yet firmly. “Have you rebelled against the Throne?”

Eyes the grey shade of a fog-covered ocean widened further. “No!”

“Yet you cut your hair.”

A forced swallow. “This…this world is now my home.”

Irritation crept into the archangel’s tone. “And you Watchers threaten it entirely by breeding these Nephelim. Such an act invites this world’s destruction by the Council!”

“Not I!” Tamiel blurted. “I have nothing to do with those…cross-breeds. It’s awful, Gabriel! What they do to create them, it’s-”

“An abomination.”

Tamiel shook their head. “You don’t understand. Only a handful are stable. Out of each hundred that they’ve bred, only one or two survive. The merger of our spirit and human flesh, it wasn’t meant to be.” Tamiel swallowed in repulsion. “They fall apart. Skin and muscle melt into pieces, and they scream - such awful screams. The patterns of their spirits dissolve away, leaving nothing. No afterlife, the human soul spark used in the attempt falls out of reach to the levels closest to the Abyss, tainted forever by the cruelness done to it.”

Gabriel paled as the Grigori continued. “The success rate is better for the stronger of us, especially if the angelic parent maintains the offspring by keeping them coherent with continual force of will. I couldn’t do it. I can’t bear the thought of losing even one! It’s bad enough watching beloved humans grow old and die over and over again - but children of my own? In such a horrid way? No.”

The archangel’s expression hardened. “The testimony of Enoch, the human raised up as witness, spoke of thousands. Thousands, Tamiel! Human sparks merged with angelic patterns. That’s an act of rebellion, plain and simple. Humanity itself may prove to be a threat to all things after they have developed further; even as they are now their free will brings more than enough chaos. Their Judgment will come some future day at the appropriate time. But this? Each Nephelim may possess the free will humanity enjoys, each reaching their own individual connection to the Source and thus able to alter the pattern of creation at deeper levels than mankind shall yet reach for generations beyond counting. Their existence perverts the fabric and the plan. This cannot be allowed.”

“It gets worse,” the Grigori whispered.

“Worse?” Gabriel stared at the other angel. “How can it be worse?”

Closing eyes, Tamiel slumped in the chair. “Azazel and Shemyaza. They’ve made a deal.”

“A deal? With whom? Samael?” Painful memories of the first war flickered disturbingly in Gabriel’s mind.

“No. Rumors are they met with an Archon of the primordial chaos. Azazel has taken the energies from Outside into himself, and used it within the patterns of his offspring.”

Gabriel rocked backwards in dismay. “Blasphemy of blasphemies!”

Tamiel nodded. “They breed an army with which to conquer this world. With all the humans then under their control, they mean to forge an even larger force with which to conquer Heaven.”

The archangel was on her feet. “If this is true, then this world’s fate is sealed. Michael will purify it with the fires of its sun and the Host shall scour clean the remains.”

“No, wait, please!” Tamiel was out of the chair, pewter mug clattering to the floor, and knelt in supplication at the archangel’s side. “Gabriel, I beg you-”

“Beg me? Tamiel, this is now beyond my hands.”

“Humanity will be lost! Please!”

“A surgeon must cut out rot that threatens the whole. One more race lost to time is saddening, yet is a small price to pay.”

“But they are special! You haven’t seen what they can do. Wipe all of us Grigori away if you must, cast our threads back to Source or the Abyss, but please, please spare the humans!”

Gabriel paused. “You would sacrifice yourself to save them?”

Choking back new tears, Tamiel nodded. “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“They…they are beautiful. And what they can do, that is even more so! When they love, Gabriel - when they love they move the universe. Out of that love they make choices that did not exist as possibilities until the very moment of choice created them. I’ve seen it! From the smallest changes to ease the pain of just one of their beloveds, to forging impossible victories out of certain defeat to save their entire families or clans. A single act of kindness can cleanse a lifetime of hate, I’ve seen it happen. And so much more! I love them, Gabriel. They will make all of creation better than the Host has ever imagined if only given the chance to do it!”

A gentle hand brushed away fresh moisture from the Grigori’s face. “Then help me, Tamiel. For if I call down my Kerubim en masse, Michael will surely follow and he will not hesitate to burn this threat away in its entirety. That is his purpose, our Prince. He is the Defender of the Throne and he is thorough. And while Camael’s squad awaits his command, they are not likely to be sufficient to eliminate such a threat as you have described without also resorting to more drastic measures. If you had just come home to tell us sooner-”

“We couldn’t. It was forbidden.”

“What?”

“The tribunal that rendered verdict on our petition forbade us from returning for at least seventy cycles of the Throne.”

“Seventy cycles? That’s-”

“Seventy-thousand journeys around this world’s star.”

Gabriel buried her face in her hands. “The fools. I’m sorry, Tamiel, but I see no other way forward. I must unleash destruction upon this world.”

Tamiel chewed the inside of a cheek. “What if…what if I knew someone who might be able to see a better path?”

Scoffing bitterly, Gabriel said, “Only the First could illuminate such a thin thread within the possibilities, and as I understand it he has taken up residence in Hell on the shores of the Abyss.”

“What if I told you that when we first arrived on this world he too was here? And that it was he who taught us how to breed with humanity?”

“The Lightbringer came to Earth?” Gabriel said with surprise. “But he is not here now. We would have felt his presence.”

“No, he isn’t. His daughter, however, is. She is who you should talk to.”

“What?” Surprise became shock.

“I can take you to her. I can take you to Aradia.”

~o~O~o~

Someone was shining an annoyingly bright light into my eyes.

“Ow, quit it,” I muttered. Talk about a lousy way to wake someone up.

Wait, wake up? Had I been asleep? I was sitting in a chair.

“Jordan, how do you feel?” An older nurse hovered over me.

“Uh, hi? Did I black out?” The last thing I’d been doing was talking to the girl, August…

Oh. Tamiel. The whole remembered scene from the distant past was crystal clear in my mind. What was disconcerting was that it had all been perceived as if I had been Gabriel, seen through her eyes and feeling her emotions. In that previous dream I’d been a witness, this time I’d relived it as if it were my own. How the heck does that work?

“You totally did!” August piped up from her bed. “Do you have narcolepsy or something?”

The nurse helped me sit up straighter, causing some tugging on my forehead. Huh. She’d placed those brain monitor things on me instead of August while I was out. I peeked around the nurse to see the display showing nothing but multi-colored static.

Real helpful I’m sure.

“No, not narcolepsy, sheesh. Just getting angelic memories dumped on me occasionally.”

“Is that how you knew they called me Tamiel?” August demanded to know.

“The symbol in your notebook. That’s what it means. It’s also written on your soul.” Ah crap, probably shouldn’t have said that yet.

“Wait, what? You’re saying that I really am Tamiel? That the dream was real?”

I sighed. “Sorry, August. But yeah. I think it likely, especially as I just got a flash of this time where you had a run-in with Gabriel because of the-”

“Don’t tell me!” she shouted, shutting me up. “Seriously, don’t.”

The nurse, frowning at the brain scan thing, reached over and removed the probes from my head. She also pretended she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. Ha! As an excuse to linger she shoved a blood pressure cuff onto my arm.

“You don’t want to know what I saw?” I asked August.

“Not from anyone else.” The girl was adamant.

“Why?”

“Because! Do you have any idea how easily the brain can make stuff up? I’ve seen shows on stuff like this: psychologists doing hypnotherapy and screwing up, leading their patients into all kinds of crazy beliefs of things that never happened. If you tell me anything, I might believe it, or worse build on it and go down a really crazy road.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

She nodded emphatically, and her glasses slid down her nose. She pushed them back up. “If my dream was real, then all information about who I was needs to come from me and not be influenced by anyone else. Even if yours was also something that really happened, I’d want to remember it first.”

“But you could be an angel, like me! The rabbi even gave me books about the lore to read up on to help.”

“Don’t read them! I doubt the real story would have been written down properly in any case.” She settled back down on the bed, seemingly nonplussed.

“This doesn’t bother you?” I asked, surprised by her lack of freaking out. “It scared the heck out of me when I was told about this stuff.”

She pointed to the tubing and its contents dripping into her arm. “Like I said, they’ve got me loopy on brain meds to keep me calm. I’ll probably spaz like crazy tomorrow. But it’s all good!”

The nurse finished checking my blood pressure and muttered, “Perfectly normal.” The way I was feeling, that sounded awfully incorrect. Because c’mon, things were so far from being normal it was ridiculous. She did comment a bit more loudly that August needed her rest. I took the not-so-subtle hint and stood up.

At least the world didn’t spin when I did so.

“August,” I said, “If you do have more dreams of…angel things…could you tell me? With what’s been going on, I need all the information I can get. I’ll respect your wishes and not tell you anything in return, alright?” Her notebook was still in my hands so I offered it back to her.

She took it and held it to her chest protectively. “You’ll run the risk of anything I say influencing or messing up your own beliefs, but if you want it anyway…well okay. And I may want to run an experiment to make sure you actually can read my symbols and aren’t just reading my mind.”

“Sounds fair. I’m, uh, sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Are you kidding? This is exciting! I’ve been a baseline human who can barely levitate a pebble at a school where kids can fly and do truly awesome stuff and you just told me I might be special too! How cool is that?”

I hoped she would feel the same way once those medications wore off, but didn’t say it. Instead I wished her goodnight and headed back to Jenna and Danielle, my mind spinning around the concept of more incarnated angels wandering around on Earth. Not to mention having some of Gabriel’s memories locked in my head somehow.

Did I really want to dislodge them all? Or was I running the risk of making stuff up too?

I didn’t have a good answer to either thought. Jenna, however, had a pertinent question of her own after I walked back in to Danielle’s room and collapsed into a chair.

“Hey Jordan, where’s my coke?”

Well shoot.

Chapter 9 - Interviews

The phone was ringing again but this time it didn’t wake me up. I’d given up trying to sleep hours ago.

“Yeah?” I said crankily, turning away from the web comics that had kept me distracted since dawn.

“You’re awake. Good.” It was Mrs. Cantrel.

“If you say so.”

“Did you get any sleep, girl?” She sounded groggy too.

“Not really. I kept seeing…” I didn’t finish the sentence. Cantrel had been there, she’d seen it too.

There was a tired sigh on the other end. “I doubt any of us had peaceful nights within the sweet arms of Morpheus. But the sun is up, and there is business to attend to.”

I grunted noncommittally.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well get yourself to Crystal Hall and find something. You’ve got half an hour before the administration expects you to deliver your report on yesterday’s events.”

“Fine.”

“Jordan, I…” There was an awkward pause. “Just don’t be late. And remember that the flag is red.” She hung up.

Now I felt guilty. She’d helped try to save Danielle, she didn’t deserve the shitty attitude. Dangit.

I threw on some clothes and did a quick check of Khan’s food bowl which was still full. The little guy hadn’t eaten his breakfast yet either. From his spot on the corner of the bed he watched me leave.

The sky outside was dark and oppressive with the air smelling sharply of more rain on the way. While the forecast yesterday claimed the skies were to be clear for days, obviously mother nature had decided otherwise.

Jenna hadn’t been in her room when I knocked, so I was alone when facing the overwhelming choices offered by the cafeteria. Nothing really seemed appealing. By default a plate was piled with bacon along and a toasted English muffin. That would have to do.

Tray loaded, I meandered past tables of other students while scanning for either an empty one or maybe some familiar faces who weren’t staring or whispering loudly as I went past. Obviously rumors of events were swirling full force through the Whateley grapevine.

Leland waved enthusiastically from a far corner. He was wearing a deep blue long-sleeved shirt that normally would have been causing him over-sensitivity fits, but instead of grimacing from all the motion he was grinning. He did however have on his usual wrap-around sunglasses and hearing protection ear-covers. Next to him was a girl with bright purple hair that dangled in front of face staring down at a phone in her lap.

Setting down my tray, I tried to smile. “G’morning Leland. Who’s your-” My query was cut off as the girl looked up from the game, saw me, and a somber and focused expression brightened immediately.

“Jordan!”

“Evie?” I blinked in surprise. “Your hair!”

Evie smiled widely. “You like it?” She reached up and flipped her bangs back into place.

“That’s quite a difference!” It was, too. Not only were her formerly midnight black locks now a glittering purple, but her whole face was brighter somehow.

“Natalie suggested trying something new.” Eyes now uncertain looked at me, and I knew she needed reassurance.

Evie didn’t deserve my mood either, so I forced a cheerfulness that wasn’t felt. “It looks great, sweetie! Maybe I should get mine done too!”

“Oh no!” she exclaimed loudly. “Your hair is too cool to change!”

“Not as cool as yours is now, though.”

She giggled happily.

Leland piped up with, “Hmm…perhaps I should try mine as a light blue? Though I don’t think I have enough anymore.” He gestured to the freshly cropped dark curls atop his head. As his hand dropped down the shirt slid over the arm but he didn’t flinch. Usually he avoided going out on red flag days because of having to wear shirts and pants which to his skin felt like continuously being stabbed.

“Hey Leland,” I said after taking a bite of the muffin. “New shirt? You seem remarkably comfortable in it.”

“Gadgeteer fabric using nanotech!” He waved arms about with joy. “Practically frictionless, I can’t feel a thing! Isn’t that awesome?”

Seeing how happy he was as he painlessly moved his arms about, I had to agree. “Sure is. That’s fantastic.”

“Frieda, this senior gadgeteer, came to me a few weeks ago. She’s been working on this incredible nano-fabric stuff and needed help with quality control. As my senses are stupidly sensitive and scream at any imperfections in a surface, I helped her perfect the process. She says the engineering applications are unlimited. She’s even promised me a percentage of the profits if I keep helping! I’ll also get all the clothing I can use.” He grinned widely.

Sounded like a win-win to me. “That’s great.”

Evie interrupted, clearly anxious to change the topic and tell me something. “Jordan!”

“Yeah, hon?”

“I’ve been practicing something. Watch!” She held an open hand over her t-shirt and closed her eyes.

After a questioning glance to Leland, he shrugged. He didn’t know what she was doing either. We could tell she was concentrating really hard, but nothing so far was happening.

“Gimme a moment, okay?” she asked after I’d managed to eat a couple strips of bacon. Newly purple eyebrows furrowed with intense focus.

I felt it first as an easing of stress across the shoulders and neck. Leland and I both gasped when a shimmering whiteness flowed outward from her chest, forming into a soft fluorescing sphere hovering above her hand. Where before her manifestations had been dark and oily eel-like things, this was their exact opposite: an opalescent orb radiating soft waves of gladness and peace.

To say that Leland and I were stunned was an understatement of epic proportions.

“Holy cow, Evie!” I said, my jaw dropping. “That’s…that’s amazing!” Her face practically glowed to match the sphere, but the surge of pride must have broken her concentration as the orb flickered before popping much like a soap bubble. Where the shimmering remnants landed on my arm a soothing calm washed away the lingering dark mood from the morning.

“Darn, lost it.” She looked really disappointed.

“That was incredible!” I said, in awe of the peacefulness radiating from just that small contact. “When did you start learning how to do that?”

Perking up from the praise, she said, “Natalie asked me to try the other day during a session. If I focus on a happy memory I can sometimes get one to pop out.”

Leland chimed in too. “Sweet! You could do a ton of good with those. I bet they could help a lot of people.”

I understood what he meant. Her dark emanations caused others to be absolutely paralyzed with their worst fears and sadness, driving deep depression into their hearts. But this? If it could do the opposite…

“Whoa, yeah. Leland is right. If you can perfect that, there’s no telling how much good you could do.”

“You think so?”

We both nodded emphatically. “Heck yes,” I said.

She grinned. “Then I’ll keep practicing!”

“Great!” I smiled back, no longer needing to force it. But I did notice the time on the clock. “Dangit, I gotta run.”

Leland objected. “But we haven’t even had a chance to ask you what happened yesterday! There’s all kinds of stories.”

As I got to my feet I looked sadly at the uneaten pieces of bacon still on my plate. “Sorry guys. I have to go give an official accounting of it all to the folks in charge. I’ll fill you in later, alright?”

Evie caught my hand. “Are you okay?” she asked with concern.

Squeezing her fingers gently, I tried to find an honest answer. “I don’t really know. But it’s not me I’m worried about right now.”

Her expression shifted to one much older than someone her age should ever carry. With that sudden seriousness Evie said, “Go take care of them. Whoever it is that needs you. We can wait.”

Waving goodbye to them both, I jogged out of the hall.

~o~O~o~

After arriving at Schuster Hall I was led by Mrs. Shugendo to a small conference room and told to wait there. Her expression was all business, all I could do was comply.

A few minutes later Isaiah walked in. He again was dressed for court: suit, tie, cuff-links, and Rolex. If you hadn’t known him as well as I did you would never have guessed how not only tired he was, but also how worried. The tightness around the eyes and the stiff posture gave it away.

He took a seat across from me and nodded. “Jordan.”

“Isaiah. You get any sleep on the plane?”

“No.” He scowled for a long moment before turning his face away and sighing. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be angry with you when you look like that?”

“What?” I frowned.

He waved a hand. “You. Looking so young and innocent. If you were still Justin, I’d be yelling at you right now.”

This, of course, got me upset. “If you want to yell, don’t let me sitting here as a girl stop you. Bring it.”

He inhaled, then shouted, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Thinking?”

“Leaving the security defenses of the school like that! Being so reckless!”

Like I hadn’t been asking myself the same damn thing all morning. “We only went to a nearby lake. How the hell were we to know our cover was already blown?”

“You should have been more careful!”

I got to my feet, putting a hand on the table. “We have been careful! Were we supposed to never leave the school at all? We didn’t even go into town! The bigger question is not just how they found us, but how they knew where we were going before we even got there!”

“Carson is working on that, as is Goodman. But that’s not what I’m talking about! I’ve been briefed on what happened. After dealing with the gryphon, you let your guard down!”

The scene replayed in my head: the avatar Billy at my feet and Danielle coming up beside. Taking too much time to look at the burning trees…

Fuck. My friend was right. It hadn’t even occurred to me there could be more enemies out there besides the enslaved Kerubim.

“I…I didn’t expect…” Sinking back into the chair, I chewed on a thumb.

“You did not expect,” he repeated. “After all the danger scenarios I put your characters through in every game I ran, you didn’t think.”

“Hey! This isn’t a fucking role-playing game, Isaiah!”

“EXACTLY!” he yelled, his face turning red. “This is REAL! Every ounce of paranoia, of caution, of planning you’ve ever learned sitting at my table - you better apply it or else you will lose a lot more than some hit points on a piece of paper! I thought you were smart enough to realize that already, but clearly I was wrong. And Danielle is now paying the price.”

“What do you want me to do? Go ahead and heap the blame on me if you want, but that is not going to help her now.”

“I want you to work on fixing it.”

“A shaman here at Whateley is asking his spirits to try and track down hers. And I’ve already done what I could for that too.”

“Oh? How?”

“I sent Tsáyidiel to find her.”

He stuttered. “The…the very fallen angel who was trying to kill her? Are you mad?”

“He’s not fallen any longer. He’s cleansed and he’s free. And I think somehow bound to me.”

Isaiah shook his head in disbelief. “That’s impossible. It has to be a ruse. Though if they plan to use her spirit as bait to get you somewhere, he’d likely still lead you to where she is. So the idea does have potential.”

I seriously wanted to shake him. “You aren’t listening! I cleansed him, or God cleansed him by going through me, however you want to think about it. I am telling you that the name at his core was restored! He is no longer enthralled by Azazel and now he has a chance to be what he once was. He is trying to find Danielle as his first step of repentance!”

The red under his cheeks washed away to white. “How…?”

“How? Like I know or can explain any of this, dude! I just tried to give him a chance, to burn away the darkness corrupting him!”

He sat in silence, clearly in shock. Which seemed odd in and of itself.

“Why is that bothering you so much?” I asked. “Neither of us are experts on this angelic stuff, so how do you know it’s impossible?”

Confusion wrinkled his brow. “I…everyone knows this, Jus…Jordan. Angels, once fallen, stay that way.”

“And you believe everything you hear or read?”

“No, of course not. But this…”

“Well take it from the one who was there. It happened. And when I say that he’ll do whatever he can to find her, I believe him. Because he could never lie to me, I think the bindings between us would prevent it.” As I said them I felt the words to be true. Which was disturbing all on its own.

Sharp eyes refocused behind rectangular frames. “Put that aside for now. We need to get through today first.”

“Today?” I asked, confused.

“Three MCO agents are dead. Possibly killed by students from this school.”

The implications dawned. Oh hell. With all the other craziness this was more I hadn’t thought about. “Let me guess, there’s a huge investigation and I’ll need to be interviewed. And the MCO will want to nail Jenna and Brendan with murder charges.” Shit, shit, and also shit.

“Precisely. The interviews have already started as of this morning. Therefore, as your lawyer, when I tell you to shut up in there - you shut up. Got it?”

“What, I’m supposed to deal with this now?”

“I didn’t get on a plane last night just to sit at Danielle’s bedside. Director Goodman was on the same flight.”

Holy crud. The Director had come personally?

“If you don’t think you’re up to it from all the trauma of yesterday, tell me now. I can try to postpone.” Isaiah waited for me to answer and it was clear he had switched fully into lawyer mode. At least that meant he wouldn’t be yelling at me anymore. Small comfort.

I inhaled sharply then let it out slow. “No, let’s do it. Whatever I can do to help Jenna and Brendan.” I stood up again.

He didn’t. “We’re not done. I’m not sending you in there without going over your statement first in detail. Sit.”

I sat.

“Now tell me, in your own words, exactly what you witnessed.”

Pausing to rewind the memories, I told him. It took awhile, which wasn’t too surprising I guess. He’d interrupt and point out things not to talk about as they were ‘part of an ongoing DPA investigation’ - which included pretty much anything about Nick and also any and all details about angels, cleansing Tsáyidiel, all of that. I was to simply talk about going to the lake, Tsáyidiel’s attack, and driving his spirit from the host avatar mutant, Billy. Then watching Danielle get shot, a second round bouncing off of Jenna, and the subsequent flying Danielle to the hospital.

Once he was satisfied, he nodded. “Alright. Stick to this, and whatever you do, keep yourself under control.”

“Is it going to be that bad?” There was definitely stuff he wasn’t telling me and I didn’t like it.

“Let’s just say I want your recorded reactions in there to be genuine.” He looked at his watch. “The lunch break should be over; we can go.”

He rose from the chair, his thoughts clearly already running through mental scenarios of what was to come. He didn’t even realize that he held the door open for me, and when we went into a much larger conference room full of people present both physically and via video, he pulled a chair out for me in gentlemanly deference so I could sit first.

With everyone staring at us as we entered, I figured that right then was not the best time to tease him about it.

~o~O~o~

The interview went as smoothly as sandpaper across poor Leland’s skin.

Gathered around the table was myself, Mrs. Carson, Mrs. Cantrel, Lt. Forsythe, Isaiah, Director Goodman, and the Kirov brothers - Gregor and Immanuel. Connected via video conference on the huge screens that covered the walls of the room was the MCO contingent consisting of the Boston division Chief, two of his investigators, and to my surprise one Gloria Fairbanks - the same MCO agent who had grilled me at the hospital in Los Angeles when I had woken up with rather different internal plumbing. Also in his own window was a bald older man with a wide and strong face dressed in an impeccable suit and tie, wearing one of those U.S. flag pins on his lapel. He had remained quiet and hadn’t been introduced, but he was watching everything with an obvious keen intelligence.

As for Diego, the wizard at the DPA who had been teaching Danielle, he was absent. When I asked about him, Goodman merely said he was on leave and refused to elaborate.

Gloria, not surprisingly, was the one driving the MCO’s so-called theories on the incident, with the main thrust being that I wasn’t truly Justin Thorne but rather a conspirator of Callas Soren and therefore fully in cahoots with terrorists, including Tsáyidiel. No matter how much the facts showed otherwise, she was doggedly determined to make those accusations fit.

I’ll give Isaiah credit, though. Every time I was about to burst out yelling at the sheer idiocies spewing from her mouth, he put a hand in front of me to keep me quiet. And then he’d proceed to rip those ridiculous notions to shreds one by one with clear and brutal logic. It was highly satisfying.

She had already come to dislike him before I entered into the room as apparently he had prevented the MCO from interviewing Jenna or Brendan by speaking as their lawyer and requiring that, being minors, they must have a parent present. As I was officially emancipated I had no such loophole to avoid being dragged in, but I was really grateful that my friends were, so far at least, able to avoid being accused to their faces of being murderous terrorists.

“From the report given by Mrs. Cantrel and Lieutenant Forsythe,” Isaiah was saying, “both of whom are impeccable witnesses as we have all acknowledged given their backgrounds, the specific site at the lake chosen for the outing was not revealed to the students prior to their departure. Furthermore the entire trip was initially conceived Friday night, with permission and approvals not having been granted until yesterday morning. Thus any notion that Jenna Beltran, Brendan Rogers, or even Jordan Emrys could have used this outing as a pretext to meet with the international terrorist known as Tsáyid fails against the merits of the facts.”

Gloria interjected. “They could have called with cellular phones on the way.”

Isaiah shot that down too. “Thanks to the efforts of Director Goodman in securing fast-track warrants for their phone records, it is clear that no such activity occurred from the time they were invited to join the outing to the lake through to the time the Whateley Security squad arrived on the scene. Indeed from Mrs. Cantrel’s report, it is clear that Jordan herself was not entirely certain where she was and required guidance on how to even find the school when bravely carrying the grievously wounded Danielle Thorne to the trauma center on campus.”

“How do you explain then,” Gloria demanded, “how an inexperienced and newly meta-powered individual somehow managed to not only defeat the Class X designated terrorist entity but also sever the connection to its avatar host? This is clearly another ruse meant to deceive us!”

There was that term again: Class X. I could tell it didn’t mean anything good but that’s still all I knew.

Rabbi Kirov cleared his throat. “If I may, it is the opinion of our supernatural experts, in concordance with the measurements recorded at not just the nearby ARC facilities but also across the world, that a singular event occurred during that encounter. Collectively they have classified the unique energy signature as a Class Y event.”

Director Goodman interjected a question. “Class Y? What do they mean by that?”

The rabbi straightened in his chair. “Simply put, they have classified it as an Act of God.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before everyone tried to speak at once. Isaiah put a reassuring hand on mine while they all argued with voices rising in volume. I stared at his fingers but didn’t pull away.

Mrs. Carson stood and barked, “Enough!” That got them all to shut up.

The older guy on the video conference activated his microphone. “Mrs. Carson,” he said politely in a gravelly voice showing the abuse of far too many years smoking. “If I may?”

“Director Smith, go ahead.” Mrs. Carson glared at the rest who remained quiet.

Oh shit, I knew who this guy was. I’d seen his photo in a news article announcing his political appointment. He was the Director of National Intelligence, the guy that the FBI, the CIA, and even military spooks reported to. I swallowed nervously while hoping my stomach wouldn’t do anything stupid. You know, like puke bacon bits all over the conference table. Maybe an even blander breakfast would have been a better choice. Like a glass of water for example.

“First,” said the man who was in charge of all the intelligence agents in the United States, “let me offer my thanks to Director Goodman for contacting my office and inviting me to this conference.”

All eyes went to Goodman. The MCO’s glares revealed how they felt about such an invitation.

“Second,” Smith continued, “I just received a report from the Arkham Research Consortium on the nature of the ammunition used by the three deceased MCO agents. They confirm the presence of Class X residue within the recovered bullets and also within the bodies of the deceased. As such this is now a matter of National Security and will be handled exclusively by the DPA to be overseen by my office. Boston Chief McCormick, I require your division of the MCO to cooperate fully with the followup investigation. I will be drafting an order to test all MCO personnel in the city and rural offices for signs of this residue. Can I expect your full assistance, Chief?”

The head MCO guy, McCormick, looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Uh, I will need to discuss with my superiors, sir. But the MCO will certainly abide by the conditions of our agreement with the United States Government.” Gloria didn’t just look uncomfortable, her eyes wanted to jump out of their sockets in outrage.

But she held her tongue. Apparently she wasn’t completely stupid. Don’t quote me on that.

“Excellent,” Smith said. “Thank you. Your offices will be contacted shortly. With this evidence in hand it is clear that both Jenna Beltran and Brendan Rogers were defending themselves against a greater evil. Further, the details are hereby deemed Classified and not to be discussed. Understood?” Once everyone acknowledged, Smith ended the meeting and with a nod of familiarity to Mrs. Carson, the screens with the MCO personnel went blank. With them gone, Smith addressed Mrs. Carson and the rest of the Whateley staff present. “I’d like to thank you all for the swiftness of the transfer of the evidence to Arkham for independent analysis.”

Mrs. Carson smiled. “This is not our first rodeo with the MCO, Director.”

Smith chuckled. “No, it certainly isn’t. When it comes to events like this, your school seems to be ground zero for trouble.”

“We would be hard pressed to argue that,” she admitted. “What more can we do to assist?”

The chief of all the nation’s agents and spies lost his smile. “Find out whoever leaked to the compromised MCO agents the itinerary and passenger list for the excursion yesterday. Take all precautions in case they too are tainted and pose a threat.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Carson agreed.

“I do have an additional request,” Smith added. “One to which I’m sure Mister Cohen will object.”

Isaiah stiffened, removing his hand from mine as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Sir?”

“I wish to speak with Ms. Emrys directly. Alone.”

I gulped.

~o~O~o~

Smith had been right, Isaiah was seriously not happy about the idea. It took both Mrs. Carson and Goodman to convince him otherwise, along with me pointing out that if I didn’t talk to Smith then the guy in charge of all National Intelligence would think I had stuff to hide.

Which didn’t seem to be a very safe position to be in. Isaiah had to acknowledge the truth of that and reluctantly walked out along with everyone else, leaving me alone with Smith’s face dominating a single large screen on the wall. It was sort of funny, I’d met and snarked off to a sorceress thousands of years old and also had spoken with two archangels, but the thought of talking to a member of the President’s cabinet had me freaking nervous.

Once the door to the room shut, he took a sip from a clear glass before opening with a simple question.

“Should I call you Justin or Jordan?”

“Uh, Jordan is fine, sir. I’ve become used to it.”

He shook his head in sympathy as he put down the glass. “Hell of a thing, going through what you have. If it helps reassure you any, I’ve put the word out to our own experts that if they can help your niece, they should do so.”

“I…thank you, sir.”

“There’s no easy way to approach a subject like this,” he said, “so let me preface things first. Do you know what is meant by ‘Class-X’ and that classification?”

“Not exactly, no,” I said honestly. “I keep hearing it mentioned, but I just started classes and they haven’t covered it.”

He tapped fingers together. “It’s a designation for things beyond our understanding and, near as we can tell, things that should not be. In other words, entities and energies utterly foreign to our reality and possibly all levels of existence. If the mystics are to be believed, that is. To call these things evil barely scratches the surface of the horrors they represent.”

“Sir?” While I appreciated the clarification, where was he going with this?

He frowned as if trying to figure that out himself. “I’ve been in intelligence work all my life, both military service and with various government agencies. I say this because I once was a field agent and over those years encountered many things that defy description. And yet compared to Class X events what I’ve seen is practically harmless in comparison. They weren’t things which could pound their way free of the tightest magical and physical security that billions of dollars could buy, while destroying the minds of all the direct witnesses that, for whatever their reasons, the monsters didn’t simply shred limb from limb.”

I stayed quiet as he shuddered at the memories of the reports that had crossed his desk - or worse, that he personally had gone out to investigate.

“I relate all this so you can hopefully understand. Our world is not safe. There are things locked away that strive for our destruction, and they indeed have the power to wipe us out if given the opportunity. We have been lucky so far as our mystics, our shamans, and our specially talented people have managed - at times only barely and at tremendous cost - to hold back a madness of evil that would if unchecked destroy our very souls.”

He paused to let that sink in. “I was born and raised Christian. But along the way the faith that first propelled me into service eroded - chip by chip - with each new witnessed terror. And I’ve had to do and order things that haunt my thoughts and dreams. Occupational hazard, I suppose, but one I gladly pay for every life and soul my efforts have and might yet save. But that last shard within still clinging stubbornly to the belief in a caring God above demands to ask a question of you.”

He breathed in as if bracing himself. In a more subdued voice he asked, “Are you truly an angel of the Lord? Are you the answer to the prayers of all of us who have tried to hold the line against the dark all these years?”

I sat silently and he patiently waited for me to reply. Eventually I tried to answer. “It’s been a hard thing to come to grips with, sir, as you might imagine. I was never a man of faith myself before all this changed.” I gestured at my female body and all it represented. “Yet the more that things happen, the more I see and do, and the more I give myself over to the power I’ve become connected to…well, the more I’ve come to believe in it too. But,” I said quickly, “what it all portends, I cannot say. I’m riding a whirlwind here and where it all will end up - and how it might affect the world - is not something I have any grasp on. By all the evidence I am forced to admit that I may indeed be an angel, yet I am still struggling to understand what exactly that means. In that I’m just like anyone else: finding myself praying and asking for guidance and help.”

Smith allowed himself a small smile. “Are you familiar with the story of Joan of Arc?”

“Passingly so, sir.”

“She was on trial by priests who for political reasons needed to find her guilty of heresy. But the more they questioned her, the more they became troubled because she gave answers that reaffirmed the possibility that she might really have been sent by the Lord of Hosts. I find myself now understanding the difficulties that they faced.”

“How so?”

“I must go brief the President on an ‘Act of God’ that happened right here on American soil. As you can well imagine, it will be a tricky conversation.”

I winced. “Sorry. I wish I had more concrete things I could tell you.”

He waved off the concern. “Trust me, vague intelligence is something one gets used to in this business. I do wish to thank you for your candor. And to add that, should the Almighty be acting directly once again upon our world, the United States of America is still a nation under God and will stand ready to do her part in holding back the darkness with all the power and might she can offer.”

His statement left me speechless. How do you respond to something like that?

He smiled warmly, perceiving my difficulty in speaking. “Take care, Ms. Emrys. If you would, please send in Director Goodman. There are things I need to discuss with him further and may as well do so now.”

Swallowing, I nodded and got up. “Thank you, sir.” As I moved towards the door I stopped to look back at him. “If I might ask, what sort of questions did the priests ask Joan?”

He didn’t hesitate. “They asked her if she was truly in a state of grace with the Lord. For if she answered ‘yes’ they could pursue her on how anyone would dare claim to know the mind of God, and if she answered ‘no’ they would then have their result of heresy.”

“And her answer?”

“She replied that if she was indeed in a state of grace she prayed God would keep her. And if she wasn’t, she prayed He would guide her there.”

Once again at a loss for words, I stepped into the hall to send in Goodman.

Chapter 10 - Gifts

I found Isaiah in Mrs. Carson’s office.

“Tell me what was discussed,” he demanded as soon as I walked in. Sometimes he forgets when he’s stuck in hard-ass lawyer mode.

“Nothing with legal ramifications,” I replied curtly.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Rolling my eyes, I caught Carson’s amused smile. “Seriously, dude,” I said to him, “Smith wanted to know if I believed I was an angel or not. He’s got a tough task on his hands in reporting everything, you know, to the President.”

Isaiah glared for a moment, then grunted.

“So uh, what now?” I asked. The large windows in Mrs. Carson’s office were being washed by a serious downpour outside. Great, I was going to get soaked. I’d forgotten an umbrella again.

Mrs. Carson answered. “For now, I need to speak further with Mr. Cohen about another matter. I imagine, however, that both he and Elliot - Director Goodman - will be hungry by four. Why don’t you come back around then and escort them to dinner here on campus?”

“Another matter?” I looked over at Isaiah curiously.

“I have been retained to assist the school on a different case. That’s all I can say.” He gave Mrs. Carson a meaningful look.

She sighed. “Let’s just say that Danielle isn’t the only recent victim of the MCO.”

“What? Who else have they hurt?”

Tapping fingernails on the desk, Mrs. Carson looked thoughtful. But before she said anything more the phone chimed. She picked it up and spoke firmly with the party on the other end. “Yes? …You have? …I see. Proceed with full protocol. …Yes. We will meet you there.”

Pursing her lips, she hung up. “You both should come with me.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Security detention. They’ve identified the leaker who compromised the lake trip to those MCO agents. They will be bringing him in.” Reaching behind her desk she produced a tall blue umbrella. Handing it to Isaiah she commented, “You’ll need this. Jordan and I can handle being cold and wet.”

I wanted to say she should speak for herself, but caught myself. As someone from California who was always hoping for more rain, I think I was finally tired of being drenched.

Yeah, yeah, cry a river. Though from the look of it out the window, that’s what the clouds were in the process of doing. Joyous.

~o~O~o~

Mrs. Carson and I indeed got soaked just from crossing over to Kane Hall where Security occupied the first floor and several basement levels. Security had already captured their target by the time we arrived. A full squad of armored security had gone for the safest option and simply used a tranquilizer dart on the suspected leaker before carting them away.

Thing is, he turned out to be one of their own: Security Private Orlando Jensen. Mrs. Carson told us on the way over that Orlando and been working there for three years and while he’d bent some rules occasionally, they’d never been anything serious.

Not like this, anyway.

Seeing the room they’d placed him in triggered a nasty flashback to the storage unit where Nick and I had found Danielle tied to a chair. This room, while much better illuminated, was similarly covered on the floor, walls, and ceiling with mystic symbols that were activated. The flow of energy spinning through it all kept trying to mess with my sense of balance which was the last thing my damn sensitive stomach needed. We peered in through a one-way mirror, its surface also adorned with magical seals and therefore making our view inside rather warped.

Orlando was unconscious and slumped upon a metal folding chair in the center of the room with many straps holding him securely in place. He had been stripped down to his underwear. They had even removed his wedding band, you could tell by the pale tan line clearly visible around the ring finger.

Isaiah didn’t seem at all surprised by the setup, his eyes were fixated only on the Private which made me wonder if he’d seen something like this before. Not that I could ask him right now though.

Carson gestured to a suited-up security guy hovering nearby. “Wake him up.” An order was given through his helmet’s comm system and a puff of white smoke blew into the room. Orlando coughed and his eyes fluttered open.

“What the hell…? Hey! Is this some kind of joke, why am I in the mystic lockdown? Guys?” He began to struggle against the restraints but they wouldn’t budge.

With another gesture from Carson, a light above our glass window went from red to green.

“Hello Orlando, can you hear me?”

He stopped struggling, eyes going wide. “Headmistress Carson? What’s going on?”

“I was hoping you could tell us.” Turning to the guy coordinating things, she said harshly, “Play it.”

Through the speakers came a recording. It was Orlando’s voice as he rattled off the details of our itinerary to the lake, mentioning me and Danielle by name and also the exact coordinates of our destination. Seriously, he included the longitude and latitude.

“That’s not me!” Orlando protested, his voice shrill with fear.

Carson watched the guy struggle and shout his innocence. With a frown she muttered quietly, “Louis, we could use your help.”

To Isaiah’s credit, he only jumped back a half-step when Louis appeared out of thin air.

“You rang?” he said with a smile, but his mirth faded upon seeing what was going on.

Pointing to Orlando, Carson said, “He’s the source that led the tainted MCO agents to Jordan and Danielle. We need to know if he’s under any mental compulsions or if his memory has been altered. But be careful.”

Raising an eyebrow at all the fully activated wards, Louis nodded. “Very well.” He turned his attention to the frightened occupant in the other room.

Curious, I tried to open my senses too, wanting a better look at all the mystic wards in any case. They were amazing, swirling about like a field of ribbons to collectively lock Orlando’s spirit in place. If he started raising any magical manna, those ribbons were ready to channel it away and nullify any intended effect. But a different ribbon of magenta and silver danced between them all before slipping an end into Orlando’s forehead. It must have come from Louis.

“No compulsions currently,” Louis said. “But there is a gap in his memory…wait a moment…”

Because I was watching so closely, I saw it. A black spot appeared like a spider on Orlando’s shoulder to dart up his neck and launch itself at Louis’ ribbon. I didn’t have time to shout a warning as Louis’ image on our side of the window gasped and disappeared. The spider-thing had sunk dark tendrils into Louis’ mental connection to Orlando.

Just like I’d seen in Tamara when the demon had been infecting and corrupting her soul.

Reacting out of sheer instinct, I dropped the restrictions on my power and slammed the resulting surge all towards that spider. An equal back-flow cascaded into the channels for the wings and they instantly flared out behind me. The blinding light in front lashed out towards Louis’ reddish silver ribbon with the glistening blackness of that multi-tentacled spider-like thing that had latched on.

The energy hit and pulled me in.

 

Like a torch standing alone within the depths of the deepest of caverns, I burned. Louis was at my side; he struggled against the pressing darkness. With an effort of will that torch flared brighter to surround him within the safety of the light.

A harsh voice cut across the cavern.

“You are becoming an irritant, young one. This mentalist would have been a fine addition to our collective and would have easily made up for the loss of our hunter.”

Mentalist? Jesus, he meant Louis. Wait, their hunter? Ah hell. “You can’t have him, Azazel!”

The fallen angel laughed, causing a surge of pressure against the illuminated boundary I had projected. It was absolutely disgusting, like being shoved by rotting feathers dipped in an oil slick.

“It matters not,” Azazel rasped. “Our brother awakens, and soon we shall have the codex and thereby gain our freedom. Perhaps then we shall reward you for being the trigger for our success. Yes, little spark, we shall reward you with many gifts. So many that you shall drown in their despair!”

Again his laugh scraped against the barrier, but this time I pushed back, pulsing the light outward to hopefully burn away the enveloping darkness.

To my surprise the smothering black withdrew without a fight and we snapped free.

 

Refocusing with still-burning eyes, I was standing over Orlando’s unconscious form within the detention room. Mrs. Carson came bursting through the door holding some kind of mystical staff that left a trail of golden sparkles in its wake.

Louis’ image appeared next to me. “Carson! I’m alright!”

It was immediately obvious that the same could not be said for Orlando.

He wasn’t breathing.

“Oh no,” I gasped, and with hands still glowing bright I ripped him free from the restraints as if they were tissue paper, laying him on the floor before checking his pulse. There wasn’t one. Mrs. Carson shouted for the medical team as I began CPR.

But I knew it was a waste of effort. With every touch of my lips upon his trying to breathe air and energy into his lungs I could feel that the space where a soul had once resided had been ripped asunder. The pattern had been shredded, it would never again host a spirit.

His soul was gone and there was nothing left to come back to.

The medic was afraid to touch me so Mrs. Carson had to pull me off what once had been Private Orlando Jensen.

As she guided me out of the room, my cheeks covered with tears of white fire, I caught a glimpse through the remains of the one-way mirror I had slammed energy through. It wasn’t the melted wards and glass, however, that caught my attention.

It was Isaiah.

He stood in the other room staring fixated on Orlando’s lifeless and soulless body. Behind his glasses burned a deep and barely contained fury of the like I had never seen on my friend before.

I’ll be honest, it scared me.

~o~O~o~

We regrouped in a smaller conference room on a different sub-level. It was rather crowded as Director Goodman and Whateley Chief of Security Franklin Delarose had joined us. I’d already taken a moment in the hallway to clamp down on the light, which wasn’t hard to do given how heavy felt my heart.

Once everyone was seated Mrs. Carson looked over at Louis. “What happened.” It was a command to report rather than a question.

Louis, despite being a mental projection, stroked his chin introspectively. “I can offer only speculation at this point.”

Carson leaned her temple against a finger. “Explain what you can.”

He shrugged. “Orlando was both guilty and innocent. His psyche had been infected by something incredibly subtle, and which did not show itself to my preliminary scan.”

“It was Azazel,” I interrupted. All attention swung to me so I continued. “The spider thing - a piece of his evil I think - appeared and attacked Louis’ connection to Orlando. It was trying to infect Louis too. I’m, uh, sorry about your room and its wards,” I added sheepishly. I knew how much time and effort went into making those kinds of protections, having seen what it took just to redo the second circle in my bedroom. The mystical staff would have their hands full trying to rebuild the ones downstairs.

Chief Delarose, a serious looking man who totally should have been wearing a fedora but wasn’t, spoke to Louis. “Are you clean? We should send a team to scan you.”

Louis startled. “I believe I am. But yes, of course, by all means send a team. Better to be safe.”

“What about her?” The Chief pointed at me.

“It didn’t touch me,” I said firmly. “I didn’t let it, and that bastard ran away before I could blast him.”

“Azazel? He was there directly?” Mrs. Carson asked, concern deepening.

I nodded.

“How did he get past the school wards?” She stared at me intently. “There was no detectable disturbance.”

Louis answered as I didn’t have a clue. “If I had to venture a guess, whatever was in Orlando was not just a working of evil but a very tiny shard of Azazel himself. It didn’t need to penetrate the wards as it was already inside. And while our defenses are quite potent, they are more focused on keeping such things out - not in. The shard escaped to someone outside; I caught a glimpse of a subway car before all contact was lost.”

I was impressed. I hadn’t seen anything like that.

Director Goodman asked, “Do you recognize the subway?”

“New York City, I believe,” Louis replied. “Which would indicate a power and range far beyond my own - with only the tiniest fragment of spirit. Whoever it was on the subway, they were likely a nexus conduit for the wider New England area.”

Everyone was silent while that sank in. Louis was one of the most powerful psychics we knew, the thought of something even stronger was scary as heck. I risked a glance over at Isaiah who hadn’t said anything. He was back to being blank and observant, whatever had shown in the interrogation room was gone - or buried.

The Chief pondered the implications. “If our wards need improvement, how can that be accomplished? Do we have the capacity to defend against this entity?”

“Rabbi Kirov can help,” I said with sudden certainty. “When I met him he said he had warded his office so only an angel could have entered. Maybe he can do the reverse? Though if he does, he better somehow add me as an exception. This may sound weird, but I think angels may go through the dimensions differently than others do.” My thoughts kept picturing the writing in August’s notebook, how the full symbols wove themselves through the layers of reality. They blended dimensions in ways I couldn’t quite grasp except for an instinctive understanding that to the symbols all the layers were somehow seen as one.

Thinking about it gave me a headache. Powering up would probably help, but probably best not to do that in the middle of the conference room. The walls downstairs had scorch marks courtesy of my wings.

“The entity,” Louis was saying, “in its brief conversation with Jordan referred to itself as a collective. Which I believe gives us an answer to the actions of the MCO agents that our students encountered. Also, I advise avoiding saying the name of the entity if possible. Such names have power.”

Director Goodman paled. “How many more people might be infected by these shards?”

My stomach did a somersault at Louis’ calm and matter of fact reply. “Anywhere from a few thousand to a few million.”

Delarose said aloud what the rest of us were thinking. “Well, shit.”

Both Goodman and Carson tried to speak at the same time. He waved for her to go first, but with a tense smile she said, “Go ahead, Elliot.”

There was a brief answering smile under the mustache before he said, “I will need to recontact Director Smith with this latest information. We also need to immediately work on a way to detect these shards, and start the scanning with everyone at Whateley. Staff and students.”

Mrs. Carson didn’t look too happy about that, but Chief Delarose nodded his agreement. Goodman added, “Perhaps if the Kirov brothers worked with Louis - and Jordan if that would be helpful - then Gregor could come up with something quickly. He’ll need access to a proper lab, of course.”

“We have plenty of those,” Delarose said dryly. “Students and teachers are constantly blowing them up, so spares are always being rebuilt to maintain the supply.”

The Headmistress stood, putting her hands on the table to lean over us all. “Then we should get to it. Chief, please inform Orlando’s family, but the specific details are not to be released. Until told otherwise by Elliot or Director Smith they are considered to be Classified. His family is to receive the full death benefit and pension, is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She looked first to Isaiah and then to Goodman. “You gentlemen should accompany me to my office, we have more to discuss.” They both agreed. “Louis,” she said as she turned to him, “find the rabbi and his brother. Get them motivated.” He nodded and disappeared.

Which left me. “What should I do, ma’am?” I asked quietly.

Her posture of command softened. “Nothing for now, Jordan, unless the Kirovs send word. Thank you.”

They all got up to file out. Isaiah gave me a concerned nod before he too exited.

I found myself all alone. Just me and the creeping feeling of guilt swarming in my gut. Not only had my coming here put Danielle in the hospital with a missing spirit, but it had just cost an innocent man his life. And his family would soon be suffering an overwhelming grief that I could empathize with all too well.

The stomach knotted up and eyes fought back additional tears, but there was something else stirring within the depths and climbing upwards: rage.

I was furious at the source of all this pain and death. I wanted Azazel to pay. I wanted justice for Orlando, for Danielle, for Tsáyidiel, for those MCO officers, and for all others who had been afflicted by that horrible evil. As I rose from the table with the surging anger I had a questioning thought.

Was my own face now showing the same expression that Isaiah had earlier?

Chapter 11 - Crossing

Not knowing what to do while everyone else was busy, I wandered back over to the medical center. Making use of a loaned umbrella, I managed to get soaked by the rain anyway. But I owed Brendan a visit, and wondered if Jenna would also be there.

She wasn’t.

Brendan was awake and reading a book. The bed was much larger than the usual ones, but given his height I’d imagine not just his feet but practically everything below his knees would stick awkwardly off the end if they had put him in one regular sized. When I walked in he set the book aside on a tray table. He’d been reading The Jerusalem Bible. Wonderful.

“Hiya Brendan, you doing alright?” I asked.

His usual joyful demeanor was missing. Instead he seemed cautious and wary, thick circles under the eyes framing a haunted expression. “Hey Jordan.” Gesturing to the thigh tucked under a light blanket, he said, “It could have been a lot worse.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” I stood awkwardly at the bedside and couldn’t help but stare at the bandages creeping up the side of his hip that peeked out from under the covers.

“Sorry? Why? You didn’t shoot me.”

I bit my lip unable to meet his gaze. “Because I put you all in danger. Just by being here.”

There was a pause of silence. “Huh,” he said. “Well, I guess that partially answers some of my questions. Why don’t you pull up a chair.”

I did so. “You’re not okay, are you. I’m not either, not really.”

“I keep closing my eyes and seeing what I did to those agents. Like it’s stuck on a loop. I broke them. Badly. And they died.”

“The evil killed them, Brendan. The same evil that tried to kill me after I manifested is still hunting me. The government guy agrees with that, too. They aren’t pressing any charges. It wasn’t your-”

“No.” He cut me off quietly but with force. “I know the damage I did to them. They would have been paralyzed. Or worse.”

“They were trying to kill us and almost killed Danielle! As it is she’s lost her soul! What else could you have done?”

He growled. “I should have been smarter and either run or hit the damn ground and let the Lieutenant do his job!”

“But you and Jenna saved the Lieutenant and Mrs. Cantrel!”

“Did we? Or did we go charging off blind without having any clue as to what we were getting into? That’s what I’m so mad about. Though I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why not?”

He just shook his head. “Jenna didn’t either, and she needs to. We argued about it this morning.”

Jenna and Brendan fighting? Shit. No wonder he was so upset. “What happened?”

“I told her I didn’t want you to be on our combat team. And that even helping you practice with your powers was a very bad idea.”

I sank further into the chair. All I could say was, “Oh.”

He stared at the blank ceiling. “It’s not your fault. Not about that, or even for whatever evil is after you. You are what you are. And we are what we are.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Pulling feet up onto the chair, my forehead pressed against the knees.

“Your power,” he said, struggling with a way to explain. “It’s not of this world. When it washed over me, I felt…lifted up? Righteous. Invincible. And there was a clear threat and impurity nearby needing to be…smited.”

“I know it can be overwhelming, but-”

“No you don’t!” he shouted angrily, catching himself before taking a sharp breath. “You don’t. I came to this school to learn how to use my abilities with the hopes of some day being a hero and helping people. My dad though, he’s served his time as a soldier. And one thing he drummed into me over and over was this: ‘When everything goes to shit, boy, you keep your head. You think, you plan, you act. Otherwise you die.’ And that’s just it. I didn’t. Your power, that overwhelming rush, it washed it all away. There was no thought, only this…glory. I was wrapped up in it, exulting in it, and I would have died for it. Without thought, without question.”

He tried to sit up higher on the bed, wincing as that caused his leg to shift. “But I wasn’t invincible. That feeling lied. They shot me with those cursed bullets and penetrated my TK field like it was cardboard. If Jenna and I hadn’t quickly defeated them I would have bled out.”

Looking to where I huddled in my chair, he reached out a huge hand and gently touched mine where they were tightly gripping my shins. “Do you see? I’ve never been religious. My parents sit on the fence between atheism and being agnostic. They always said what a person does is more important than what they believe. But I’ve seen fanaticism. My aunt is born-again and you can see it in her eyes: the only thing that matters to her is serving her faith. She will do things because she believes it is ‘God’s will’, all while spanking my cousins mercilessly as punishment for skipping their prayers to get their schoolwork done. I’ve never understood how someone could be like that, how someone could lose all perspective and sense of self into such a thing. Now I do. It scares me. And I don’t scare easy.”

“Brendan, I…” Words slipped away.

“It’s not your fault,” he said again. “I am what I am. Human. Maybe that makes me weak, and maybe you could learn to control your powers and make us unstoppable. But I don’t think I’d be me. And I’m worried because Jenna doesn’t agree.”

“She doesn’t?”

“No. She believes…” he paused. “She believes you were sent here by God. And that we need to protect you no matter what until you can do whatever it is you were sent here to do.”

“But we don’t know that! I’ll admit everything points to me being some sort of angel, but it’s not like I talk to God or anything. In fact, being here like this might be a mistake. Caused by a really old and cunning sorcerer.”

Did I believe that, though? If I hadn’t been here, Evie might have caused a lot of students pain. If not death. Plus Tamara had been possessed by that demon - what would have happened to her?

But Danielle lay without her soul in the other room. And only an hour ago I watched Orlando die.

Was that part of God’s plan too?

Brendan squeezed to get my attention before letting go. “I agree we should protect you. But, no offense, I’m not willing to sacrifice my humanity to do it. Actually, I feel that should also apply to you. You’ve said you were normal before all this happened. Hold on to that. Hold on to who you were.” He pointed to the bible. “Because what angels do in those stories isn’t nice. If anything, they may be the worst fanatics of all.”

We both fell silent. He on the bed with a muscle twitching in that strong jaw of his and I curling deeper in the chair unsure of what to say or do.

“You should find Jenna,” he said finally. “Talk to her. Maybe she wasn’t as overwhelmed as I was, maybe her childhood faith will protect her better. I have no idea how this stuff works.”

“Neither do I,” I said quietly.

“Then you’d better learn. Because whether what’s happened to you is part of some large cosmic plan or not, the impact is likely to be huge and it’s just beginning.”

“I’m trying.”

“Yeah, I know. Just work on keeping the collateral damage down, okay? And when you find Jenna, tell her I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t have. I was raised better than that.”

“I will.”

“Thanks.” He adjusted his sitting position again, clenching teeth against the pain of doing so.

“Is your leg going to heal?”

He nodded. “They say it will, just at a normal human rate. I’ll be stuck on crutches for a couple weeks. It’s just pain, I’ll deal.”

“I’m really sorry.” I had to say it again. I just had to.

“I know, Jordan. I know.” With that he closed his eyes and his breathing deepened.

I walked out.

~o~O~o~

Since I had at least an hour if not more until Isaiah and Goodman would want dinner, I wandered the halls of the hospital lost in thought until finding myself once again standing outside Danielle’s room.

I hesitated before going in, which was silly. My confused emotions weren’t going to have much impact on someone who’s spirit wasn’t even there. Still, I tried to get myself together as best I could before opening the door.

To my surprise Zap was sitting there playing a game on his phone. A raincoat draped over the back of the chair was dripping into a small puddle on the floor.

“Zap!”

He continued swiping across the screen on his phone. “About time you got here. Been waiting. Your phone just goes direct to voicemail and you weren’t at Hawthorne,” he said with a trace of annoyance.

“Uh, my phone is at the bottom of a lake. Feel free to go get it if you want.”

Grunting, he stood up and shoved the phone into a pocket. “I’ve been told to tell you that you’re not listening properly.”

“Excuse me?” Now I was getting irritated.

“Not me,” he said with exasperation as he pointed upwards. “Ra. He’s been pushing at me for the last couple hours to find you.”

My irritation shifted to befuddled worry. “Ra sent you?”

He nodded, eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights. “Ra says you need to pay attention. Your servitor has been trying to talk to you. Anubis agrees.”

First Ra, and now Anubis? I had the sudden thought I should go grab Khan and watch out for women flying by on broomsticks. Oh, and tornadoes. Definitely tornadoes. “Okay, uh…but you’re not my servitor or whatever…”

He looked at me funny. “Of course not.” He gazed towards the ceiling as if listening to something. “They say, and I quote, ‘the angel bound to your word requests an audience’.”

It didn’t make sense, at least not until I focused my perceptions to spirit-side. There was an immediate tugging sensation. Tsáyidiel! His voice flowed quickly into my thoughts.

“My lady!” I could feel his relief at finally making contact.

“Tsáyidiel,” I thought back. “Have you found her?” Hope flared within my heart.

“I have. Her spirit, however, is being held captive. And without your strength, I lack the power to free her.”

Hope collided with fear. Captive? “How do I give you my power? How do I help?” Did he just need me to channel energy to him? Would that work?

“You must travel with me, my lady. Into the realms of ancient dreams. Together I believe we may succeed, either diplomatically or otherwise.”

Zap waited patiently. I wondered if he could hear our conversation. “There’s an angel-,” I started to say.

“That you saved yesterday,” he interrupted. “Yeah, I know. Jenna filled me in; I tried her room after yours.”

“He’s found Danielle’s spirit!”

Zap nodded. “And he needs you to go with him to save her.”

I blinked. “Uh, how’d you know that?”

“My lady?”

Gah. “Hang on, Tsáyidiel. I’m trying to deal with someone-”

“How do you think?” Zap pointed up again, though this time he used a middle finger to do so. “They’re insisting that I go with you.”

I looked over at Danielle’s empty shell of a body. It sounded crazy. Traveling to spirit realms? But if there was a chance to save her…

“Tsáyidiel, I will come. Let me prepare.”

“As my lady commands.”

Of course, I had no idea how to do any of it. But first things first. “Zap, you don’t have to do this. It sounds like it could be dangerous.”

He shrugged. “If I don’t, I’m going to have two gods bitching me out for weeks. I’d rather avoid that headache.”

Impulsively I grabbed him in a close hug and gave his cheek a quick peck. “Thanks.” The poor boy flushed, but hugged back. Yeah, I blushed too, surprised by my own impetuousness.

But there was hope. I leaned over Danielle’s unconscious form and kissed her forehead.

“Hang in there, sweetie,” I whispered. “We’re coming for you.”

~o~O~o~

I used the phone in the hospital to call Mrs. Carson’s office. I may have made up my mind that I was going to gods-know-where (ha, literally!), but I wasn’t going to do so without letting the teachers know all about it. Even if I was afraid they’d try to stop me.

Surprisingly, Carson didn’t. She expressed concern, but seemed more at ease or at least resigned to the idea when I explained that Zap had been sent by his gods to go with me. She said she would send Circe and Rabbi Kirov to my room and to wait until they got there before trying anything.

I agreed. Zap and I proceeded to race through the growing thunderstorm back to Hawthorne.

Running through the front doors (dripping wet yet again!), we made a bee-line towards the elevator but the guy on monitor duty downstairs called out, “Hey Red! You got a delivery!”

Skidding to a halt, I backtracked to the front desk where a senior with wild metal spikes for hair tossed me one of those thickly padded manila envelopes. My name and address was clearly printed both in English and Arabic, which to my surprise I was able to read. The postage was comprised of a ton of foreign stamps.

What the hell?

Ignoring for the moment being able to easily comprehend a totally foreign language, I went over to the lounge and carefully opened the envelope. A slip of paper and a six-inch long scroll with fancy endcaps tied closed by a silk ribbon slid into my hands.

The paper was a handwritten note:

 

Jordan - I trust this will arrive safely. My research into trying to decipher the ancient symbols Soren used in his ritual led me to this scroll and to something else which I believe is much bigger. I’m still working on gaining access to that and hope to find success soon. However, my arrangements here are not secure and whatever this scroll is, I don’t think it should fall into the wrong hands. That includes governmental fingers. You may have the best shot of unscrambling it, so I’m sending it to you for safe keeping there at Whateley. Hopefully I can get out to see you sooner rather than later, bringing with me an item that may hold the answers to all our questions. Stay safe - Nick

 

Holy shit. The date stamped on the envelope was marked four days ago. Before the synagogue in Aleppo exploded.

The rabbi and Circe were soon to arrive, and I had a feeling this scroll wasn’t something Nick wanted the rabbi to see as Kirov would likely report about it to others. So with a bit of haste I unrolled the thing, just to get a peek at it.

It was a good thing I was already sitting down. The small pages flowed with script in the same style and language that August had been using for her spells.

They shifted on the pages while I tried to read them, pulling perceptions towards a multiple-dimensional space. I could easily get lost within those symbols and all their complex and arcane meanings that lay tantalizingly close to comprehension.

But I didn’t have that kind of time right now, and worse I had no idea how long it was going to take to save Danielle. Provided we even succeeded and didn’t get our asses kicked by a nasty spirit or whatever was waiting out there.

With an impulsive decision, I re-wound the pages and shoved the scroll back into the envelope. Nick’s note got wedged into a pocket separately.

Zap had stood at my side just watching without commentary.

“C’mon. Let’s see if Jenna is still in.” I hopped up to run for the stairs. Zap followed.

Jenna’s room wasn’t that far from the stairwell and I banged on the door. “Jenna! You in there?”

When it opened I practically threw myself at her to give her a huge hug. If she’d been wearing one of her wigs it would have been knocked off. “Thank goodness.”

“What’s going on? Oh, hi Zap.”

“I don’t have much time,” I babbled. “I’ll have to sum up. Brendan says he’s sorry he yelled at you. The authorities are clearing you and Brendan of any possible charges from the attack by the lake. Tsáyidiel says he knows where Danielle’s spirit is and Zap and I are gonna go free her. Please get Penelope to take care of Khan while we’re gone, especially if it takes too long. And I need you to give this to August Rose, she’s a patient on Danielle’s floor over in Doyle. Tell her to not let anyone see or know anything about it, I mean that. But if anyone can make heads or tails of it, she can.” I shoved the envelope with the scroll into Jenna’s surprised hands. Then I hugged her again.

“Jordan, what?” Poor Jenna was bewildered. “Wait. What do you mean you and Zap are going to free Danielle. If you go, then I go too!”

I shook my head. “It’s somewhere in the spirit realms.”

She was crestfallen. “But I need to keep you safe.”

“Not this time. I’m sorry but I don’t think you can follow, hon. But if we don’t make it back, I want you to know you’ve been an awesome friend. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

“You have to come back, you hear? You have to because…” She was about to say something more, but blinked and just said, “because you do. You got that? Promise me.”

“I promise to do my best.”

She turned her attention to Zap. “You bring her home. Even if you have to knock her crazy stubborn butt out and carry her.”

He grinned. “That’s the plan.”

“Hey!” I looked at him with a scowl. He just grinned wider and shrugged.

Jenna held up the envelope. “And this goes to August. What is it?”

“Truthfully? I have absolutely no idea,” I said. “I’m hoping she’ll figure it out and I think she has a better chance at doing that than I do. But we need to get upstairs and get going. Oh. And give Evie a huge hug for me too, okay? I’d stop by her room too, but I think she’d never let me leave.”

“You could be right about that,” Jenna agreed. “I’m tempted to stop you as it is. But Zap has already saved your butt once, he can do it again if need be. So get going. And good luck!”

“Thanks! We’ll need it!” We hurried towards the stairs. As we got to the end of the hall, Jenna yelled out one last thing.

“Hey Jordan! God will be with you!”

My feet stumbled a step but kept onward.

~o~O~o~

A flash of lightning illuminated the balcony doors and the resulting crash of thunder shook the building. Circe, Rabbi Kirov, and Isaiah were all standing outside the triple circle within the attic.

Zap and I were inside it, and Zap was crawling onto my bed. He even gave me a wink that bordered on lecherous as he looked down at the fluffy blankets and back at me invitingly.

Yeah, it got me to laugh.

I had been expecting the teachers to object to our planned journey to the outer limits or wherever, but much like Mrs. Carson hadn’t neither Circe nor Rabbi Kirov tried to stop us or even objected. Circe wanted to be present to make sure any crossing over at Whateley didn’t inadvertently leave a door open to the other side, and Kirov, well, he just wanted to see me in full angelic form before I went.

Then again, short of locking me up in a room warded much stronger than the detention center had been before I casually blew it open, I’m not sure that they could have stopped me. So there was that.

Isaiah, however, was clearly not happy about any of it and had pulled me aside as soon as he arrived.

“This is insane!” he had said angrily, but quietly enough to keep the others from hearing.

“Yeah, probably,” I replied. “But our options are…what exactly?”

“It’s too risky. You’re still untrained. Learn control first, then go.”

I sighed. “Yes, Yoda, I hear you.”

He scowled at me, like usual.

“Look,” I said. “Tsáyidiel has explained that time works different there than here. If we wait, that could mean losing all opportunity. And maybe losing her forever.”

“It’s a trap. You know this, right? Your new angel friend was fallen. You can’t trust him.”

“You said it yourself, dude. If he’s in on some scheme, he’ll at least lead us to her. And I’m taking Zap with me - who is being sent by Ra and Anubis.”

His expression darkened further. “Pagan deities both. Not necessarily allies.”

Before he could say anything more, I pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ll be okay, bro. If there is a higher plan to believe in, then this is where it’s leading.”

He had stiffened sharply under the embrace but slowly melted and ceased his protests.

So now I was staring at Zap as he lay back upon my bed. For some reason it was rather distracting. “Uh, I think I know how I’m going to cross over to get to Tsáyidiel, but what are you planning to do?”

Zap rearranged pillows under his long hair. “Anubis is just going to yoink my spirit across. He says it shouldn’t hurt…much. You get to go first.”

“Well, I’m going to try and get to the spirit place in my dreams. I’ll, uh, hold it open for you.”

“Sounds good.”

A nudge at my ankle gave a reminder that I needed to say goodbye to my dearest fluffy friend too. I picked him up, scritching between his ears. “You be good while I’m gone, ya big lug.” Khan stared at me with his green eyes, then squirmed clearly wanting down.

Releasing my hold he jumped from my arms right onto the bed, going over to curl up next to Zap. He yawned widely and settled further in.

Heh. Sleep well, little buddy.

Giving a last nod and farewell to our three witnesses, I let go of the reins holding back the flood of light within my spirit.

The room lit up in perfect synchronization with another flash of lightning and I sighed from the inner pressure’s release flowing outward into wings waiting to take form.

The boom of thunder a moment later rattled the doors. But what those doors showed had already shifted to a different scene altogether: rock, ocean, clouds, and sand now waited behind the glass.

As did a kneeling angel whose wings were dark opposites to my own.

Steadying my nerves, I stepped through willing myself to move completely from here to there, leaving nothing behind. The transition went a lot smoother than I expected.

With just a thought, I was there.

Chapter 12 - Names

Jenna, holding the manila envelope hidden under her raincoat, knocked on the frame of the open door politely.

A cheery voice called out, “Come in!”

Stepping inside, Jenna made sure the door closed fully behind her. “Sorry to bother you, but you’re August, right?”

The slender girl on the bed grinned. “That’s what it says on my wristband!”

“I’m, uh, a friend of Jordan’s.” Jenna stepped to the bedside.

“Dang,” August said as she noted how Jenna’s coat was dripping water everywhere. “It’s really storming outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Cats and dogs, mass hysteria. The wind is going bonkers. I almost lost my…uhm, nevermind.” She’d been about to say she almost lost her wig in the tempest, but fortunately the glue had held. She’d have to thank the gadgeteer who’d made the improved formula later, come to think of it.

“So, friend of Jordan’s? She need something?” Questioning eyes peered at Jenna from behind the horn-rimmed glasses.

“Yeah, actually. She wanted me to give you this.” Pulling out the envelope, checking first that it had stayed dry, Jenna handed it carefully to the other girl.

August frowned. “What’s this?”

Jenna shrugged. “I don’t know, and Jordan said she didn’t either. Only that you might figure it out. Oh, she also said no one else was to know about it. Are any nurses or doctors going to come in here any time soon?”

The brown-haired girl shook her head. “Nah, I just ate and while they say I’m fine they’re still holding me until the morning just because. Everyone seems really spooked about whatever has been going on.”

Taking a seat in the visitor’s chair, Jenna sighed. “Yeah. I was grilled on things early this morning. Other than Jordan mentioning in passing that I was clear of the government going after me, that’s all I know.”

“The government? What exactly happened?”

“I…I’d rather not talk about it. You gonna open that thing or what?”

August shrugged, though she was clearly disappointed at not getting details. “Sure. Hey, is that Arabic?” As she pried the envelope open the scroll popped out into her hand. “Huh. This looks old.”

Leaning closer, Jenna said, “Yeah it does. Handle it carefully.”

Unraveling the pages onto her lap, August’s eyes ballooned. “Oh wow.”

“What? What is it?” Jenna tried to look, but every time she tried to focus on a page the writing wriggled and she’d find herself looking at the blanket instead. Her eyes started to burn and itch from the effort.

“It’s my writing,” August said in awe. “Not literally, but it’s in my language. The one I made up!”

“It looks older than you are. How?”

“Jordan has this theory. That I’m an angel too.”

“Wait, what?”

August shuffled the pages around as if aligning them better. “I know! Cool right? But she was starting to read my spell-books. Which is totally awesome! No one’s been able to do that before.”

“Huh. Guess that explains why she wanted you to have these. What do they say?” Whatever it was, Jenna was sure it was important.

“It’s weird,” August said. “It’s like a list.”

“A list? Of what?”

“Names.”

“Whose names? Jordan’s? Yours?”

August wasn’t listening. Her eyes devoured the text, rapidly scanning over the symbols as manifested, falling deeper into the true script extending far beyond the pages themselves. In a new voice, one much older and full of heartfelt sorrow, she began to recite.

“Batarel, Araqiel, Kokabiel, Ramiel…”

The papers glowed with golden light, a shine echoed within August’s eyes.

“August?” Jenna said, with growing alarm. “Hey, August?”

The other girl kept reciting. “…Barakiel, Shemhazai, Ananel, Sariel…”

“Dammit, August, snap out of it!” Not knowing what else to do, Jenna let her stone-skin flow over her hand before trying to grab at one of the glowing pages.

Grey fingers slipped right through to the blanket below. The pages brightened even further as they floated into the air, hovering before the girl still reading their contents…and much more.

“…Zadkiel, Armaros, Penemue, Yeqon…my brothers, my sisters, and your children all…”

“WAKE UP!” Jenna shouted.

With a flash, the pages burst into golden flame to fly directly into August’s eyes, passing straight through the glasses perched delicately on her nose. Her irises pulsed in response with that golden light and the lenses exploded outward, scattering shards across the room.

Jenna, stone skin impervious to the tiny sharp fragments, grabbed the girl’s shoulders. “August? August!”

There was no response. The girl had passed out.

In a panic, Jenna lunged for the room’s call button.

“NURSE! HELP!”

From down the hall footsteps could be heard coming at a run while outside another deep boom of thunder echoed mightily across the campus. Hailstones bombarded the windows to announce the storm’s growing fury.

Light's Promise (Part 4 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 13 - Beacon

Tsáyidiel knelt upon the stone with two sets of dark wings covering an otherwise bare and human back. The air was warm, and the bright sunless sky stretched above with fluffy clouds hinting at towers and walls. The grass tickling at bare toes was the first indication that my attire had changed.

One look and it was decided that if the subconscious had chosen this outfit, me and her were going to have a chat. At length.

Gone was the Whateley skirt and blouse. In their place was a thin lavender toga-like dress, two matching pieces of cloth rising from the waist to (mostly) cover my modesty held in place by straps connecting behind the neck which left the back uncovered and granting full freedom to the wings. A braided cord of gold around the waist completed the look.

No bra so everything was, shall we say, bouncing freely, and the gentle breeze provided confirmation to having gone entirely commando under the skirt.

The sound of feathers heralded the arrival of a winged humanoid Zap. If I hadn’t seen his spirit before I wouldn’t have recognized him: tall with well-proportioned muscle and bronzed skin, the long darker hair blending into the feathers. He looked older and much more serious than his boyish student-self. He stood comfortably and at ease in a simple tan loincloth and sandals. Beaded bracelets decorated the wrists, the one on the left even had a set of small dangling charms. While he had no shirt, draped around his neck was a wide necklace of gold beset with multi-colored gems culminating in an Eye of Horus resting against the bare chest. And yes, his two golden hawk-like eyes were surrounded by the traditional black makeup put on everyone in those Ancient Egypt documentaries. Add in the brown and white wings of a hawk and he was quite an impressive sight.

Which is probably why I didn’t notice the white tiger until it forcefully shoved its face into my hip.

“Gah!” I spluttered, wings flapping in alarm. But both Zap and Tsáyidiel were undisturbed by the tiger’s presence. The tiger for its part sat on the rock and began nonchalantly cleaning a huge paw.

Zap, in a voice much deeper than usual, commented. “It would appear your companion wishes to join us as well.”

My companion? The tiger paused its grooming to stare with large green eyes. Wait a second, I knew those eyes, and those black and white markings…

“Khan!” Dropping closer I pulled the huge fluffy head into a hug. “Buddy! How the heck?”

Clearly amused, Zap smiled. “Your cat’s spirit is full of surprises. But it is not uncommon for familiars to dreamwalk with their owners.”

Tiger-Khan rubbed my face (and neck and shoulder) with his own, the larger and more wiry whiskers brushing exposed skin. Grinning widely, I scritched the bigger but still soft ears and a really deep rumbling purr resonated under my fingers.

Tsáyidiel’s eyes narrowed at the tiger, but he offered no objection when he spoke. “Come, my lady. Time is passing even more quickly at our destination. If your…feline is to travel, it appears you will need to carry him. We should travel by wing and not by foot if we are to take the quickest path.” He gave a bow towards Zap. “Also, greetings Prince Heru. Your appearance is a welcome surprise.”

Zap acknowledged Tsáyidiel with a curt nod. With how he held himself and spoke he appeared more Heru than Zap but I resolved to call him Zap regardless. Before we left he’d warned me to stick to our codenames whenever possible because, as he put it, in spirit places you never knew who was listening. The ground itself could be aware and taking notes.

Speaking of the ground and being stuck upon it, I contemplated the mighty Tiger-Khan. He was now far too large for me to carry. Sure I had the strength to probably do it, but not only would I be unable to see where I was going it would also look ridiculous. “Er, how is carrying him supposed to work?”

Without waiting for an answer Khan tensed and pounced. Holy crap! Bracing to be knocked on my ass, it was quite a shock when little feet landed on a shoulder instead, a small voice mewing into an ear. The crazy cat had become kitten-sized! With little claws he dug in to his perch alongside my neck.

You have to understand, I’d gotten him from a shelter when he was on the verge of adulthood so I’d never seen him so tiny. He was adorable! It took Zap clearing his throat meaningfully to get me to realize I’d been standing there for over a minute cooing and petting the kitten’s little face like, well…like a schoolgirl.

Oops.

“Right, uh, we follow you?” I asked Tsáyidiel, trying to hide my embarrassment. Tsáyidiel inclined his head seriously but Zap chuckled. I cut him a look. “Hush.”

That only made him laugh more.

Tsáyidiel turned to the dream ocean, spreading four midnight wings. “We go.” Leaping off the cliff those feathers caught the air, his image shimmering into that of a raven riding the updraft lifting him higher.

Zap gestured towards the cliff and water below and said, “After you.” With a cheeky grin he added, “My lady.” Geeze.

With one last check that the purring Khan-kitten was secure, I stretched my wings searching not for air movement, but for flows of energies. Gaining purchase with feathers and will, I rose to catch the raven above.

The shrill cry of a hawk beneath let me know that Zap was close behind.

~o~O~o~

We flew between worlds.

The experience was surreal. Without the line of power connecting me to Tsáyidiel I would have been incredibly lost and marooned in some random pocket realm or dimension, likely unable to figure out which way was up let alone how to find my way home.

The raven led us through landscape after landscape, the scenery flowing into each other with smooth yet abrupt transitions. From across that first brilliant sky over endless ocean the view quickly shifted and we were soaring past mountains of thick forests caught in that first breath of spring thaw, the air so still you could hear individual feathers as they moved. Melting ice cracked and popped on those hillsides, the echoing canyons turning each sound into a multitude.

As our guide swooped lower towards a valley, all moisture was swallowed by dust clouds now rising from a desert overflowing with fine and powdery yellowish sand. No plants, but under that lemony surface shapes moved, rippling patterns revealing their passing.

Get used to one scene and another would take its place. Green sheet lightning tearing through ivory blue clouds, rain and ice howling the thunder, all instantly replaced with cracked dry earth where twisted blackened trees clawed towards three oblong moons hanging low and silent before a rosy sunrise. Warmth became cold became wet became sticky hot until merely warm yet again.

Not all vistas were natural - or unnatural. We flew over mud-walled huts forming scattered settlements, over fortresses forged from violet stones, and over fields of planted tentacled creatures who sang songs of surrender to the peace offered by the imminent harvest coming to take their lives. The words were unrepeatable, but I understood their haunting lyrics as the disturbing embrace of the serenity of death rang clear.

Tsáyidiel turned without visible reason, rising and falling in response to a path only he could discern. Holding on to that spirit tether between us like a lifeline, I kept checking to make sure Zap was keeping up. I shouldn’t have worried. If anything he tilted and swung back and forth in the air as if bored with our lack of speed. I had a feeling we could all fly faster, especially when in places without crazy weather, but Tsáyidiel maintained a deliberate pace. Perhaps he was proceeding with caution.

A city of emerald glass and sparking blue steel dropped away and we flew past ruins carved into a rocky plinth that sat underneath a vast clear expanse showing billions of twinkling stars, spinning galaxies, and brilliantly gorgeous nebulae. The crimson blended into purplish blues, each star brighter than the last, the entire vista like those amazing deep space pictures except these stellar objects seemed closer and more immediate. Stretch forth a hand and you could pluck a burning star right out of the sky.

The view was absolutely breathtaking. The radiance of each and every sun called out, urging me to join them, to shine for the simple sake of shining, and to exult in the illuminating dance set in motion since the beginning of all things. Their fires spun across the eons, singing of the sheer indomitable glory of existence itself.

And I wanted to sing with them. I needed to sing. For I too was here, I too knew the ecstasy of the light burning within and spilling outward to form all matter, all energy, all thought, and all love. I could sing, I could shine, and I could be one with the all. The power waiting to burst into song burned in my heart with the need to shout across the universe.

All I had to do was reach for it, and I too could be a shining star within that tapestry of light.

Lips gently pressed against mine. Zap, no longer a hawk, was kissing me, pulling me back from the call of uncountable stars. The kiss was tender yet fierce, revealing its own buried inner need that the energies already summoned could not ignore. Instead of blazing outward to the edges of all things, the fire poured directly into him like a bolt of lightning finding the shortest route to ground.

The resulting ecstatic burst banished all coherency as the universal sky spun wildly about with the surge’s release. When the senses finally coalesced I was held tenderly within his arms while we floated high above a star-lit mountaintop, shattered stones bouncing down the hillsides having been knocked free by the concussive wave of the overwhelming brilliance we had just unleashed.

I didn’t care that later I’d be embarrassed and freaked out about being kissed by a guy. Here, lost within the shining cosmos, that didn’t matter.

Zap tried to say something but was interrupted by my glowing finger tracing softly across his cheek. He was radiant too. Not as golden-white like I was, but with this silvery-blue electricity flowing across his feathers. He was beautiful.

I giggled at the idea of painting him with different colored lights like purple or even green. Maybe orange? Oh dear. I was drunk. Although unlike previous alcohol-fueled benders which always turned me maudlin and introspective, this intoxication was a pure and giddy feeling.

For the first time in over a month I felt happy and free.

Zap’s expression was unfathomable. With an unreadable yet gentle smile he quietly pulled himself away.

Tsáyidiel’s voice cut through the reverie. “You’ve attracted attention, my lady.” His words were careful, trying to keep both reproach and envy from his tone without success. The raven flew closer and shifted to a humanoid form.

Three shooting stars streamed across the sky from a corner of that awesome horizon, except instead of flaring out and disappearing their path curved to head straight towards us.

“Are we in danger?” I asked, pretending to refocus and sober up. The silly grin still stuck on my cheeks made it not very convincing.

“I hope not,” Tsáyidiel replied. “But I would still advise caution. We should land upon the peak.”

Zap flew me down to alight upon the mountain top before setting me carefully on my feet. Once sure I wasn’t going to topple sideways from my drunken state, he faced the incoming meteors, placing himself between them and me. Whatever aftereffects he may have been experiencing himself from what just happened, he seemed instantly solid and prepared: both tense and relaxed at the same time. Though tense wasn’t quite right, he was just immensely focused and wary.

And here I was, wanting to pout because we should have been able to enjoy the moment. I felt the kitten move to the back of my neck, burrowing under all the loose hair draping over the tops of the wings. Huh, was he hiding from nervousness or strategy? Feeling him rustle under my hair got me pondering what hairstyle I was currently sporting, for it certainly hadn’t been falling in my eyes. After patting a few places around my head (careful not to disturb the little guy!) it was determined to be in a simple French braid using entwined bangs to form a circlet before tying behind and falling over the rest hanging free. It was much like I’d been trying to do for myself lately, but this was tighter and more skillfully done. Zap glanced back with a raised eyebrow, obviously wondering what in the heck I was doing. I just shrugged and gave him another silly smile. Yep, I was still completely inebriated. It was all I could do to not run fingers along the feathers of his outstretched wings right there in front of me just to see how they’d feel. Maybe if I charged up my fingertips as I did that would be more fun…oops. Focus, incoming unknown entities! Possible danger! But it would be…C’mon! Focus!

Argh! I wanted to take things seriously, but nope. Reality had left the building, or rather we had left Reality far behind.

Those streaming lights resolved into three winged beings rapidly approaching, only to slow down to land at a respectful and careful twenty yards distance. One had the form of a tremendous condor: reddish pink face and extremely broad white feathers ringed with black. The second was even bigger, like a ten foot tall bodybuilder that had been as thick as a truck before even starting to hit a regular gym. Overly massive muscles bulged under black leather skin and the thick neck supported a head that was a cross between a bull and man. The chest flexed mightily to the beat of wings closely matching Zap’s in color, although maybe twice the size. The third newcomer however was a slender woman with the head of a golden-beige lioness, soft fur covering the rest of her toned and agile-looking body.

Neither the lioness lady nor the towering wall of muscle wore any clothing. Not that it seemed to bother them any. For that matter, it didn’t seem to bother me either. Huh.

What was the most baffling was not how they looked or lack of coverings but how they felt. I wanted to reach out and touch them, for within each I sensed a kinship. They were family. We had never met and yet the knowledge was undeniable. It wasn’t the energy drunkenness talking either, though perhaps that was keeping me from suppressing the sharp instinct.

The lioness spoke first in a strong yet feminine voice, bowing deeply towards me as she did so. “Lady Gabriel, the Throne has commanded your return.”

Zap threw me a puzzled look and I was about to reply with my own confusion when mister muscles interrupted out of his own surprise. “This is not Gabriel.”

Growling an instant temper, the lioness snarled at her companion. “Of course she is, Gadiel. We all felt…” She cut herself short as she took a longer look at me that ended in uncertainty. “What is this?” Her gaze quickly turned to take in the two beings hovering protectively before me. Amber eyes widened. “Tsáyidiel, is that you?”

My raven-panther angel lowered his beak politely. “It is, Hizkiel. I greet you and my brethren Kerubim.”

Mister muscles rumbled loudly from deep within his throat. “Tsáyidiel is no more. He fell into darkness.”

The condor shrieked, its feathers rustling nervously while the crinkled black and pink head darted about trying to scan the area. “This could be a ruse, an illusion…”

Putting a hand on Tsáyidiel’s shoulder, I moved forwards between my companions. “It is no ruse,” I pronounced. “Beloved Tsáyidiel has been purified within the light, the glory of his name restored!” Beloved? Glory of his name? What the heck was I saying!

The lioness exhaled past sharp fangs, “Impossible.”

Again the condor emitted a piercing cry. “Neither he nor she are of the Host. They are not linked to the Throne, beware!”

“And yet what I say is true,” I declared with a surety and confidence coming from I knew not where. “Examine him and see the truth shining within!”

With a commanding gesture from me, Tsáyidiel stepped halfway between our groups and his shape shifted to a man huddled nervously under pairs of wings. The condor did not move but the other two approached, walking slowly up to their former brother. Gadiel reached out to gently touch a covering wing while Hizkiel placed both hands upon Tsáyidiel’s bare chest.

The space around them rippled as their true names pinged between them like silver rods in a singing windchime. Three notes resonated mightily before merging into a single transcendent harmonic chord. It left no doubt that they were made to sublimely chime together.

Hizkiel’s gaped in outright shock. Gadiel, voice now loud and joyful, wrapped arms wider than tree trunks around Tsáyidiel pulling him into a tight embrace, lifting the smaller Kerub off the ground. “Brother!” he shouted. “But how can this be?”

Tsáyidiel, equally overcome with emotion, tried to point back towards me with a trapped arm and hand. “The light, the Source. It shines through her and in its grace was I set free.”

The fur near Hizkiel’s eyes darkened with wetness and she asked me, “Who are you, that you could do such a thing?”

Confidence slipped away as confusion crept in. “I…I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Gadiel, not releasing his brother from the embrace, spoke. “Your name. Tell us, please.”

I stammered. I knew what they wanted, and while I could have answered ‘Jordan’, that would not be the truth they sought.

Tsáyidiel disentangled himself, keeping a hand on his brother. “Her name has yet to announce itself. She is newly born.”

The condor hissed while the other two exchanged glances.

“You both should be brought to the city, to the Throne,” said Gadiel earnestly, his booming words echoing back from the canyons below. “The first new sibling after countless cycles? A lost brother restored from darkness? Why, this news deserves to be shouted from the tops of the tallest spires! Come!”

Zap cleared his throat loudly and took a step forward. “Such is not feasible.”

All eyes turned to him. Hizkiel grinned in friendly recognition, revealing sharp fangs. “Lord Heru! Long has it also been since you flew alongside us. Forgive our manners for not acknowledging you, we are just…”

“Overwhelmed?” Zap said with a polite smile. “That is understandable. But I must insist that these two forgo any journey to your city of silver and gold at this time. They are pledged to a quest of mercy.”

Gadiel’s large brown eyes narrowed. “Surely no mission could ever be as important?”

Zap touched the Eye of Horus upon his chest, causing it to brighten and beam forth with the light of the dawning sun. “I bear Ra’s mark and must complete the task he has given. It still lies before us and not behind; without them at my side I would fail in the duties assigned.”

Hizkiel regarded him for a long evaluating moment, before inclining her head with respect. “We would not wish to cause a quest given you by your Lord and King to fail.”

Rumbling low in his throat, Gadiel protested in dismay, “But such wondrous news, we should not delay!”

Tsáyidiel quickly posed a question. “Are you three commanded to find the Archangel Gabriel?”

“Yes,” Gadiel answered, “such was the mission as ordered by our captain. But he would understand if we-”

Hizkiel stopped him with an upheld paw-hand. “Peace, brother. But the Hunter’s question makes a valid point. We have our own commission to fulfill.” She glanced towards the unhappy condor. “And Ruhiel would be correct to declaim any diversion from our assigned purpose.”

The condor, Ruhiel, rasped, “We should kill them and do it now. Their illusion is infecting you both!”

“Silence, Ruhiel!” Hizkiel growled forcefully, causing the condor to shrink back. “There is no illusion, only grace-granted miracles! We shall finish our sweep for the Lady Gabriel and report to Kerubiel our encounter here today. Nothing more. Should our captain wish to pursue matters further, that will be up to him. Understand?”

Ruhiel, wings pulling in defensively, nodded his bird-shaped head.

“If it helps you any,” I said to the lioness, “I saw Gabriel just over a month ago within a pocket dream realm of hers. It lies somewhere near, well, near Earth. It is a place of ocean, cliff, and sky. Raphael knows of this as well. I hope she is alright.”

“We thank you for the information, Lady. And we look forward to the day when your name is proclaimed before the Throne and you take your proper place among us. Until then, keep that one safe,” she said, pointing to Tsáyidiel. “It would be a shame for him to be lost twice.” Her toothy grin grew even wider.

Tsáyidiel looked towards the ground sheepishly.

With a final nod to Zap, she declared, “Fare well, Lord Heru! Honor and Glory to you and your family! Success to you as well, Lady of Light!” With that, she took to the sky with Gadiel and Ruhiel following. The three transformed back into shooting stars and streamed towards the horizon.

Zap shouted his response as they went. “Honor and Glory to the Kerubim! Hunt well!”

Tsáyidiel sighed quietly as he watched them go. Once they had twinkled out of sight, he straightened his shoulders and said to Zap, “We should move on. They are not likely to be the only ones to have spotted her shining beacon. We must rely on speed and not stealth, for our lady - whether she wishes or no - blazes a path across the cosmos.”

“I do not mind the brightness,” Zap said, giving me a teasing smile. “But I agree. Lead on.”

Yep, I had been right. Now that the whole energy after-glow had faded away, I found myself blushing furiously and feeling massively conflicted. Khan-kitten, emerging from his hair-covered refuge, put a paw against my cheek as if offering reassurance. He settled back on my shoulder and dug in with a firm grip. He was ready.

Whether I was or not, I flew after the departing raven as before, trying to shove confused thoughts and emotions aside as best I could. This time instead of the shriek of a hawk following behind there was a warm-hearted laugh instead.

Dangit, he was probably getting a full view of my butt from our flying positions. Remembering that there was nothing under my skirt, I wished fervently that I could shift into a bird too. Though given all his time as a hawk, he’d probably enjoy that view too!

Double gah!

Chapter 14 - Restoration

I had lost count of the number of realms and vistas we passed through when Tsáyidiel called out, “We are here.”

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I’m sure if I wished I could replay each and every distinct realm within the exemplar-enhanced perfect memory and mechanically count them all. But nah. Just take my word that there were a lot of them.

Spiraling down out of the glitter-strewn tapestry of night covering the newest scene, the raven led us low over a dark lake with calm waters perfectly reflecting the glory of the distant constellations above. It was all so beautiful until we reached ruins at the edge of the lake and saw the devastation of the shore.

Where once a mighty forest stood, only stumps and black rotting twigs and branches remained. Between the water and shattered trees lurked an abandoned structure of once-mighty standing stones, taller than those found at Stonehenge back on Earth. They spread out in a semi-circle like arms welcoming the lake within their embrace. Except these arms were broken, large chunks of the indigo stones had embedded themselves within the mud lining the lake bottom far below their former proud heights.

Tsáyidiel perched upon the capstone at the center and I followed. Khan jumped down from my shoulder to join the raven, becoming a full sized tiger as he did and shaking himself out upon landing.

Light from my wings washed over the stones as I moved closer to examine them. Each was covered with carvings seemingly Celtic in design, yet other unknown symbols mixed sporadically across the patterns. Again without thought I could read something totally foreign, the meanings of the carved sigils simply obvious as if written in my native tongue.

The whole edifice had comprised a single poem celebrating the wonders of the natural world: her lush trees of plenty, her kaleidescope flowery pastures, the airborne dances of birds and insects, and all the creatures both mundane and mystical walking, singing, and living in harmony within her rich splendor. But now the poem lay scattered, fading at the brackish water’s end.

The smell of rot and decay was overwhelming, especially near the ground where I was trying to read one of the last of the fallen stones.

“This is where Danielle’s spirit went?” I asked Tsáyidiel.

The raven tilted his bird’s head with expressionless black eyes. “The trail through the realms led first to here, and from here to a fortified keep occupied by a force of fae. Her presence seems strongest under the keep where dungeons are likely to be found. Attempting an immediate extraction would have been impossible without attracting notice, especially without your energetic support. Skilled I may be, but a garrison of fae would prove difficult to overcome to secure her release.”

“Fae,” I said. Poor Danielle. Her spirit had somehow ended up here and, even though she was a sidhe, instead of welcoming her Tsáyidiel believed the fae had taken her prisoner. “What could have happened here?” I wondered aloud, for it wasn’t just the stench that was getting to me. The entire place oozed a deep and awful lingering despair.

Or maybe that was just my own feelings of worry.

“Aye, now that be a tale,” said a voice piping up from behind a stone. “Though methinks not the most happiest.”

Zap was in front of me in an instant, one arm held across my stomach as if warding it, the other extended towards the voice. I must have blinked because I hadn’t seen him move. Wow. Tiger-Khan had also jumped down from his lofty perch and was silently stalking the newcomer’s position.

“Who speaks?” Zap demanded. His human head flickered for a moment, the proud hawk’s visage blending into view.

“I?” answered the voice with a chirp. “Why, sir, I am but Bristlebeak, at your service!”

Pushing Zap aside (earning me a dirty look), I cast out more light to reveal a small bramble of twigs lurking upon one of the smaller fragments. I flinched when the twigs suddenly moved, revealing that it had little legs, and arms, and uh…yep, a beak much like a toucan’s thrusting forward from the collection forming its head. Little pale yellow sparks danced where eyes should have been.

“And, dear sir, never has a beak of bristles ever been so fine, if I do say so myself!” The little thing chuckled and did a little dance in a circle on the stone.

“Uhm, hi?” I said to the…to it.

Tiny will-o-wisp eyes peered up, and darn me if they didn’t somehow grow bigger. “Ooh! Greetings, lady!” He gave a twiggy formal bow, which I awkwardly returned much to his delight. “Such fairness! Ach, and you were the one wondering the story of this here temple, if I am not mistaken and my name is indeed Bristlebeak as I have attested befores.”

I exchanged a look with Zap who remained defensively on guard. Khan, however, paused and sat amidst several scorched weeds as if perfectly content to wait and see what would happen next.

“Yes, that was me,” I said carefully. “Could you share the story with us?” It might be useful to know more before dealing with those who had kidnapped my niece. Even if I was busily mentally wondering if the four of us could blow down any walls in our way, grab her, and safely escape. Very tempting.

“You wouldn’t, perchance have hidden somewhere - mayhaps in your bodice? - any gooseberries, would you?” the oddly nosed mobile bramble-bush asked. “Though it would be fair to say that, should there be such lurking within your intimates, it would be awfully impolite for them to remain a gooseberry!” The wide beak bobbed up and down with intense merriment.

“I, uh…what? And no, I have no berries.”

“Sadness,” he sighed wistfully. “They used to grow here, you know, and I used to eat them by the handful right over yonder.” A twiggy finger pointed to a spot of barren ground a dozen yards away from the ruins. “Their flavor truly burst all savory within a beak, if you must know. But if you have none, then no trade is to be had, and thus no tale to pass the time. Ach, well, unfortunate but such is the way.” He shrugged.

Zap leaned close and I thought he was going to try to warn me about the creature. Instead he whispered, “Give him some of your light. Something berry-sized.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. How would I do that?

He rolled his eyes as if I was clueless, totally not earning him any brownie points. Oh geeze, what if the bristle beak thing was a real fae brownie of some kind? Zap quickly whispered, “You’re in a dream-realm, not the physical world. Treat it as such.”

Huh. That actually made a weird kind of sense. Cupping open hands together, I let the light flare briefly with the intention of focusing it down while visualizing a small glowing golden grape.

I almost dropped the sudden manifestation into the muck below from sheer surprise. Holding it up it looked exactly as I had envisioned. It even had little brighter fractal lines inside like the veins of a grape. Wow! “Would a…a lightberry do?” I asked Bristlebeak.

“A lightberry? Well now, that’s an entirely different matter altogether!” He rubbed his twigs, err, hands together gleefully. “Unusual and rare, but possibly quite tasty. Why, I can smell the brilliance from here!” He eagerly reached for the small glowing orb, scrambling over the stones to get closer.

I pulled it back. “In exchange for the story of this place and our questions answered after.”

“Yes, yes, though after the break of dawn no further questions, and I get to taste the berry first!”

Remembering Circe giving Danielle a warning about not making any promises she didn’t intend to carry out due to the binding power of such upon those of the fae, I agreed. “Very well, we have an agreement.” I placed the berry-like orb into an excited collection of grabby twigs.

No sooner did he get take hold was it instantly popped into his beak with a loud chomp and swallow. “Ooh, now that, my lady, that is a fine berry indeed!” Tendrils of light swirled into the depths of his bristles, shifting color from gold to a paler yellow matching eyes now burning with greater intensity. He flickered there, in the darkness by the lake, little pulses of color sparking from within. And he became more solid, more real. Hard to describe, but he was just…more ‘there’ than he had been before.

He swooned. “Why, I daresay never have I had such a sweetness! A lick of light, like tasting a star! For this I would offer you tales until the full turning of the moon!”

Zap shook his head. He was right, we didn’t have that kind of time. I said, “Just of this place, kind Bristlebeak. For our time is lamentably short.”

“Ach, well, the customer is never right, of course. Or is it the other way around? The shopkeeper is never left? Hmm, wouldn’t that imply the shops have to be all on the same side? Seems odd, if you ask me. Or maybe even. Very confusing. But yes! The tale of the Temple.” The little guy plopped himself down to sit, thorny branches scraping along the rock as his legs settled into place.

Zap crossed his arms, giving Bristlebeak his full attention. As did I, though I politely put my arms behind my back instead while offering the little fae creature a smile of encouragement.

Bristlebeak cleared a knotted throat and began.

 

So the Temple you see was once…wait, no, that’s no proper way to start a story! What would Mrs. Bristlebeak say if she heard me open a tale with such a pathetic line. Why, Mrs. Bristlebeak - if I were not a confirmed bachelor, mind you - would properly admonish me and chase me about the kitchen glade throwing her bristles and thorns in annoyance. Which, of course, is a good reason to be a bachelor if you ask me!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick out someone else’s bristles from the midst of your own? ‘Tis a darn tricky thing! Why, I must admit, if one were to ask, that I still have a few remnants from the time when Bristlefang got snippy, as he does, and challenged me to a wrestling contest. There was quite the conundrum of whose bits were whose when that unpleasantness was over, let me tell you!

Oh. Just the one story? Yes, yes…

In the glorious past when we fae once frolicked happily within the glens and forests of the world, the Mother was awake, and in her tender care we flourished. Oh how we danced and sang and…did other things not appropriately mentioned in front of such a fine company as yourselves. Unless you care to hear? No?

Ahem.

And the realms of magic and the realms of mortals stood side by side, indeed like a proper ocean tide didst one side blend into the other as the sea caresses the firmament where water kisses the sand.

It was a happy time, oh such happiness! The revels, the music, the passions! Tis a giddy memory, though many have forgotten. But Bristlebeak remembers! Oh yes, he remembers…

The sidhe - those among us who believed they were more powerful than the others and thus deserving of special attentions like being called all these various formal titles, demanding the rest of us follow and do the silly tasks they kept shouting about, that kind of thing - decided, well some of them did anyway, that Mother was too important to be allowed to do things as only She pleased. Thus they formed a priesthood where they would sing and chant and dance, hoping Mother would pay attention and grant them favors. Sometimes she did, she really did!

All over the world and within the dreams that snugged all close to it - like one would to a soft blanket of doe’s fur on a brisk autumn morning when the dew debates with the icicles whether it was time for a proper freeze - did they go and build these temples. They built many a temple such as the one where you are standing…err, hovering.

We didn’t mind, of course, because if the Mother was happy, why so were we!

But the sidhe, sitting in their towers and playing at their competitions with one another, they got themselves into a right tiff and broke off into several branches, which believe you me is a very painful thing to do and not something I’d recommend as it makes a right mess of splinters! They even drafted the other mythical beings into their arguments and divisions.

All of which led to things getting right awful. Many perished from the famine of essence that resulted, for the Mother, despairing at the antics and state of things, fell into a deep sleep. No longer did her love flow across the mortal plane, making living there rather tricky, as only at certain spots had her previous love collected enough for us to survive.

So we gathered around those places, and wouldn’t you know it, most of ‘em had these temples at their centers.

Now, back in a time when I was still contemplating finding myself a lovely bristle-wife - for you see wisdom had not yet set in and I was daft as well as drafty - the sidhe gathered as many of us as they could, warning that we all must retreat to refuge within the dreamspaces. For we had to flee - and flee quickly, mind you - as they claimed there was no time to consider or even discuss the matter, which was awfully impolite. Abandon one’s home without even taking the time to sip tea or munch a gooseberry with which to give it a good thinking? Unheard of!

They explained, hurriedly of course, that a terrible spell was soon to sweep over the mortal realms, and should any of the fair folk be caught within its grasp, why, they’d be transformed into something horrible forever. Something with a fixed amount of fingers and toes, without any brambles or even a proper beak! Humans, they said. We’d all become humans.

I shudder at the mere thought. Ach! No magic, no spark, no beak? Awful.

‘Twas a mad scramble through the brambles, trying to get everyone across. Some of us made it to this place, which was in those shining days called Arcadia. Though, if I were an honest Bristlebeak, it would need be admitted that many happy places were called Arcadia in those times. We few who managed the crossing counted ourselves quite lucky. For Mother’s sleeping dreams had kept this place strong and its heart was still vibrant and full.

Alas, ‘twould not remain so.

The sidhe priests and priestesses, those who had survived their wars and the sundering, numbered only a handful when the Spell of Final Doom arrived. That’s the name I gave it, I think it has a nice ring, don’t you? Doooom. Yes! Because it was. Our doom, that is. Those sidhe who were pledged to the Mother remained behind to hold the gates open as long as they could as the last of us tried to scamper across with arms and tails and backs laden with whatever we could carry.

They sacrificed themselves, did the entire priesthood, and all were thereby cursed to be mortals. We owe them a debt, I daresay one which we can never repay, for the Spell of Final Doom hangs still between the worlds and their spirits - once so proud and nobly free - remain trapped in lives mundane without even the magic of a good barrows-dance.

Ach, but the Doom still hunts us all. For the Mother no longer dreams of beloved Arcadia and her temple has fallen to ruin. Without its heart being renewed, the power of this place has faded into rot, crumbling beyond repair. Soon the outer dark will reclaim all. And while legends claim there are still pockets of fae within the world of mortals, whose guardian spirits were strong enough to keep the Doom at bay beyond their borders, we cannot breach the barriers that separate us and reach their rumored sanctums.

The sidhe that lurk still in their fortress say not to fret and that a solution will be found, but as Bristlebeak was not born yesterday nor the day before that nor even the day before the day before, why, they can pledge themselves with all the words their tongues can utter, but when the Heart of Arcadia pumps its last of the magic we all shall tumble either into that darkness or into the mundane binding flesh of humanity.

And that is where you stand, good travelers. Within the ruins of the last Temple built here in the once glorious and thriving Arcadia that now shares the same Doom as did so many long ago: to fade and be lost. How much longer we here have, I could not rightly say. I can only hope that, when I am finally cast forth, I end up as a human with a properly sized nose! Aye, tis sadness, no humans that I ever did see could compare with any measure of pride against my own mighty beak.

I didst not promise the tale would end with gladness, but it is what it is and not what it is not.

 

Bristlebeak fell silent, his little sparks staring into the past and towards a future without hope. Zap’s head was lowered, his face an expression of loss and pain that was a mirror to how the little fae must have been feeling.

And I felt guilty.

It didn’t make any sense, but the crush of emotion placing it all on my shoulders was clear. All of it: the fae who lost their homes, who had to flee to distant pockets of dream, and all the ones who didn’t make it but were caught and forced to become human.

Like Danielle’s own sidhe spirit must have been. Deep inside, I felt - I knew - I was responsible. Somehow.

I could sense them out there, dotting across this tortured landscape, many having come close enough to hear Bristlebeak’s tale while remaining hidden and safe from the unknown travelers. Their hearts were enmeshed with a sadness they had carried for ages, as they had known full well that even this realm, this Arcadia, would reach its end. And the sparks within them had grown dim.

I couldn’t fix it, I knew that. Only their Mother, instinctively understood as Gaia herself, the spirit of Earth, could manage that. But maybe, just maybe, I could buy them more time. And lift those little hearts once again in songs of joy.

I had to try.

With a beat of my wings I rose above the ruined temple. With a beat of my heart I called to the light.

“Aradia, wait!” Zap shouted, using my chosen codename.

Instead of deflecting my attention, that name rang out like a hammer clanging against a mighty church-bell, reaffirming the need to act.

Scanning the temple, I searched for the lines of power hiding below the dream, for those arteries of magic that gave this place its stability and kept it secure. Finding them, the pattern traced back to a center that lay like an immense yet faded crystal orb behind everything.

Wispy tendrils floated below that orb, reaching towards a distant world-spirit whose attentions no longer were directed to here. Gaia slept, her dreams had moved on to elsewhere, leaving this temple spent and broken, its poem silenced. I could not reconnect them, I hadn’t the skill or maybe my resonance was just wrong. It wouldn’t respond to my call.

But the light above I could touch.

Echoing the pain found within the core of this realm, I begged that source to grant a respite of years for all the sparks - both tiny and large - who called this place home.

The brightness answered and a column of brilliance descended to the lakeshore. This time I bore witness.

White fire flashed down from the heavens, piercing through me to dive deep into the waters at the center of the temple stones. A blast of steam burst from those waters but, instead of scalding skin, it soothed for each droplet of that mist was full of light like the berry given the tiny storyteller.

A fog - no, a wave - of tiny lightberries raced out to flood into the broken forest on the shore, transforming all they touched. Mystic stones lifted from their fallen graves, rushing to return to their proper places and rejoin their comrades in their perfect tableau of poetry. Mud lifted upward, restoring the center platform while the missing sections returned to complete the circle of power. Dead tree stumps beyond cracked apart as seedlings exploded new life towards the stars in the sky, their bark thrumming with instantaneous growth and exploding to fill the air with lush and verdant leaves in all the styles and patterns one could imagine. The waters of the lake, churning and bubbling, shimmered and went clear, revealing fresh schools of brilliant metallic-sheened fish of molten golds and reds darting between tropical siblings who filled in the rest of the rainbow.

Glittering pixies launched into the air, sylphs splashed into the waters of the lake, and woodland critters of myth danced beneath new leafy canopies, their giggles and shouts merging into a solid wall of rejoicing.

I hovered there, quickly swarmed by all manner of little flying beings each trying to dart in and hug or kiss whatever parts they could touch. I didn’t know how to ask them to stop, they were all moving so fast that as soon as I thought I had their attention even more would arrive to take their place. And their joy was infectious, for I was giggling as mightily as they were. Pixie wings tickle like you wouldn’t believe!

The spear of illumination dissipated and slowly faded away, its light having been consumed by everything around. Its work was done.

Zap watched with resignation, at least until the fae decided he must have helped somehow and began giving him the same treatment. I laughed even harder as he tried to struggle politely against the tiny onslaught. On the grassy land beneath the stones, Khan had acquired several tiny riders and some must have found some catnip which they dangled in front of his nose by use of a long stick, said stick sporting new shiny emerald leaves sprouting from its sides.

Tsáyidiel’s raven interrupted the revelries with a cry of warning, shifting to his full gryphon form upon the stones’ keystone.

A wide azure circle appeared upon a path through the trees. Electric fire sparked along the edges, and through it could be seen a large courtyard where a multitude of dark figures scrambled into formation. From the mouth of the portal rode a mounted party of five armored knights, each holding lances with banners waving high upon the tips. Blood red cloaks covered their full plate armor, matching the background of the banners. The lead knight, whose own billowing cloth displayed a graceful golden crown, dismounted and bent a metal-clad knee into thick grasses now ringing the shore. He removed his helm and long blond hair spilled forth to frame a slender face of high cheekbones and grace. No doubt about it, he was sidhe.

All the fae around us stopped their spinning and merriment to turn towards the knights and offer tiny bows. The transition to sudden quiet was deafening. Even the fish in the lake paused their swimming. The knight gestured towards a small nearby squirrel wearing a tiny straw hat and smoking a cob pipe, and the fae critter darted up the extended arm to the knight’s ear where it chirped rapidly before jumping down, bowing, and backing away.

Breaking that silence, the knight called out to me. “Lady Aradia, our beloved Queen expresses her pleasure for this restoration of the temple within her realm. She invites you and your companions to join her forthwith at her keep as guests for tonight’s ball where she may properly show her appreciation.”

The keep. Where Danielle was being held. All revelries were forgotten and my eyes narrowed with remembered purpose. “Sir Knight, we naturally would be delighted to attend.”

The four armored sidhe split two by two to take up positions at the sides of the path. Their leader remounted and expertly guided his horse about so he could escort us through the portal to this keep. And to its queen.

We gathered upon that path: gryphon, god, tiger, and angel. As we passed through the crackling portal I mentally vowed that we would not leave without adding my niece’s spirit to that list.

Chapter 15 - Houses

The medieval-style keep was straight out of a Hollywood movie’s idea of what such should look like: huge grey stone fortifications full of horses and warriors all bustling in different directions. Swords, shields, maces, bows and arrows, all were kept close at hand by the sidhe soldiers busily lining up in orderly formation as we went past. Others wore robes of dark violets, indigos, and forest greens, each carrying a staff carved differently from the rest.

Irises flashing pigments not usually available to humans without colored contact lenses all stared as we went by, which was weirdly unnerving. Though with my own silver-flecked golds, I suppose I fit right in. Heh.

Another robed elf met us at the entrance to the wide hall. With his pointed ears and arrogant expression he reminded me of the haughty elf-king from Lord of the Rings, though his hair wasn’t blond so much as grey and unlike the other sidhe wrinkles beset his brow marking the passage of time. How many eons it took for a sidhe to actually show aging, I had no idea. Bet it’s a lot.

“Welcome,” he said in a measured tone, broad shoulders squaring towards us. “I have the honor of being the House Seneschal, you may call me Gwydion. Rooms have been prepared that you may refresh yourselves before the night’s revelries and servants shall assist with your attire if required.” He paused to regard Tiger-Khan standing at my side. “Would your…cat…enjoy his own room and refreshments?”

“He stays with me,” I said. As if to emphasize the point, Khan brushed the top of his head against my thigh.

“Very well, three rooms then. Follow me.” The seneschal led past thick doors to an entry hall that had yet another set of closed doors and smaller passages leading to stairs off to the sides. We went up a set of those stairs, meandering through the structure until finally reaching the end of a hallway marked by three doors of its own: one with a magnificent carving of a sprawling elm tree, one to the left bearing the likeness of a raven, and another to the right showing the bottom half of a sun spilling light over a large golden pyramid.

Somehow I doubted they kept these doors in stock just waiting to be hung appropriately for guests such as us, which meant that Zap’s admonishment of this really being a dream was very true. What passed for reality here might be fairly mutable; I’d have to remember that.

All three doors swung open, spilling bright candlelight into the hallway. Gwydion said, “There is time to rest and partake of a meal if you are so inclined. Should anything be not to your liking, your servant shall see to your needs. As guests your wishes are paramount, and the gifts of this House tonight in preparation for the Ball are given freely.”

Both Zap and Tsáyidiel relaxed upon hearing that. Having done enough fantasy gaming with Isaiah, I had a pretty good idea as to why. Many tales of the spirit realms and fae speak of the dangers of eating food or receiving presents that could have too many strings attached when taken.

Zap acknowledged the offer. “Seneschal Gwydion, we shall endeavor to be ready when it is time.”

The seneschal gave us a courtly bow and gestured for us to enter our rooms. I had a feeling that before the evening was out I’d be pretty tired of all the bowing and curtsying, and would need to resist the temptation to wedge in a good handshake or two instead. When in Rome and all that. In the glow of the flickering candles filling the corridor a thin scar was visible on the seneschal’s cheek, which was odd as I hadn’t noticed it before.

Zap shot me a quick wink before entering his room and the clouds of incense sneaking out from its interior. Tsáyidiel bowed low (see what I mean?) before saying, “My lady,” and waiting for me to enter mine first. I gave him a smile and walked on in, Khan sticking to my side.

It was huge. My own attic space in Hawthorne was oversized for a bedroom and all, but this was ridiculous. Polished marble columns rose high to hold up an equally marbled domed ceiling that must have been at least thirty feet tall. A tremendous number of white pillar candles rested upon little floating porcelain saucers which were casually swaying in random circles under the dome to cast a steady brightness on everything.

And by everything, I meant just that. At the center sat this massive canopy bed draped with snowy lace and piled high with thick fluffy blankets and cream-colored pillows. Off to the side was a long table laden with a feast suitable for an entire soccer team: multiple roasted chickens (or ducks?), cooked vegetables of various types, rolls and croissants, slabs of butter, tureens of steaming soup, baskets of fruits (some of which I’d never seen before), and at the end a mound of confectionery that would have caused a diabetic to keel over in shock just from the sugary vapors.

There was even a large dish on the floor stacked with grilled steaks and fish resting before a cozy pillow for a certain over-sized kitty. I was glad the food should be safe to eat, because honestly trying to prevent a tiger-sized Khan from ravenously digging in would have been tricky if not downright impossible. He didn’t even wait for me to say he could indulge as he walked right over and dug in, those large white and black lips crunching and smacking in content indulgence.

Beyond the waiting feast sat a massive hot tub with a stone fountain ringed with those ridiculous baby-style cherubs all naked and doing things like pouring water from urns or standing on tiptoe while spewing forth a stream past pursed lips. Heck one of them was straight-up peeing into the pool. I wondered if that was a reflection of the fae’s opinions of angels, though if it was just their thoughts on the putti-style cherub motif itself I’d likely agree. As Tsáyidiel could attest, real Kerubim were anything but disgustingly cutesy fat babies.

The door closed with a loud thunk. At the entrance stood a skinny olive-green robed and dark-haired woman who bowed deeply, holding herself in that position as if content to wait forever if need be for me to acknowledge her arrival - or even her existence.

“Uh, hi?” I said, letting the wings on my back fade away. Powering down seemed the polite thing to do.

“My lady,” the young woman said as she slowly stood, though her eyes remained downcast. “I have been assigned to attend you. What are your wishes?” Her ears were round and normal, and the arms peeking out from the sleeves of her robe were covered with scars criss-crossing skin far too dark for the fine-featured fae I had seen so far. And weirdly there was something about her that seemed familiar.

“I haven’t really figured out what I’m doing yet, maybe you can help me decide? Also, are you…human?”

Keeping her eyes subserviently lowered, she answered. “Yes, my lady. If you object to being served by one of my kind, I can arrange a replacement.” There was palpable fear in her statement. I had a bad feeling that sending her away would cause the poor girl to be punished and those scars hinted that the process could be extreme.

“No, of course not!” I said. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Come on in, we’ll figure this out together, okay? And just call me Aradia, I’m not used to all this formality and-”

“Aradia?” Brown eyes looked up for the first time, flashing with instant rage. “YOU!” The energy in the room tilted in response to that anger, like the feeling before lightning strikes.

Uh, maybe powering down hadn’t been the right choice after all. What the hell?

I took a cautious step backwards towards Khan. “Do I know you?” The tiger interrupted his feast and faced the girl, muscles rippling across his back in preparation to leap into action if need be. Shit.

“Know me?” The girl’s expression contorted with anger but also with pain. “You don’t you recognize me?”

It clicked. Holy crap. She was years older than she should have been! “Erica?”

“Yes!” The girl fell to her knees, fists clenched tight at her sides as long hair fell forward to hide the tears flooding over her moment of rage. “That’s my name…”

Khan’s green eyes blinked up at me questioningly. Moving over to the woman, I knelt and put a hand on her shoulder. “Erica? How are you even here?”

She shuddered at the touch but didn’t pull away. “Four years,” she said in barely a whisper. “I haven’t heard my name spoken in four years.”

Four years? Oh my god. Tsáyidiel’s warning about the time differential between here and the physical world just became all too frighteningly real. Danielle had been unconscious for only about twenty-four hours, how long would that have been here?

The young woman - who should have still been a young girl of fifteen - gave a weird choking sob of a laugh. “I should hate you. I should hate you and blame you. But that would be a lie.”

“What happened, Erica?” I asked, repeating her name on purpose.

Fingers clamped onto my arm. “I was stupid. Young and stupid. The whole thing with Tamara, the pendant, all of it.”

“You fled the campus. Where did you go?”

She sniffed. “To the airport. Where I was even more stupid, because I wanted vengeance on you. I tried to sell information on your whereabouts just to get even. It didn’t work out very well.”

I stiffened. Had she been the one to lead the agents of Azazel to Whateley? Could she have been why they were waiting, why Danielle got shot? I could feel my own anger stir. “You said you ‘tried’ to sell. Something stop you?”

“The MCO were there, but they weren’t normal! Their eyes-”

“Were black, like bottomless pits.”

“Yes! How’d you know?”

“Did they do this to you?” I demanded, thinking she may have suffered just like Danielle had. “Did they rip your spirit free and send it here?”

“What? No!” She shook her head.

“They didn’t?” What the hell?

“I made a deal. With the Queen.”

“She was there?”

“Spirit projection. She likes watching the Whateley students arrive at the airport, searching especially for fae.”

That stunned me. Danielle would have stood out like a ruby resting on a frog’s butt to someone looking for other fae. This queen would have noticed her immediately. “You said you made a deal?”

She nodded. “I swore my service to the Queen. In return she kept me safe from the MCO.”

“But your body…” I looked her over. “You’re here in spirit, what happened to your physical self?”

“She made the MCO promise to deliver me unharmed to my mother in California. But she took my dream-self here. I can’t wake up. I’ve tried and tried, I just can’t!” She sobbed again.

Mrs. Carson’s remark that Danielle wasn’t the only student to have been harmed by the MCO fell into place. She must have meant Erica. She had to be lying in a hospital somewhere just like Danielle. But if this Queen was the real cause, could she have somehow snatched Danielle’s spirit right after that horrible bullet plunged through my niece’s heart?

Could Danielle have died in that moment, giving the opportunity? I was starting to dislike this queen.

“Erica, you may not be your hostess’ only victim. It’s why I’m here.”

“What?” Despite the scars and the tears, there was a strength in her still. All self-pity fell away, and with eyes now unnervingly clear she asked, “Who else?”

“My…friend.” I’d almost said ‘niece’, but my brain kicked in. Here we were, sitting in a fae realm, within a fae keep, inside a fantasy bedroom. Chances of the queen being able to hear every word was likely high. Shit. Had we said too much already? There’s no way it was a coincidence that Erica had been assigned to me. Fuck! The Queen could be using Erica as a spy or, even if not directly, as a trigger to get me to slip and say too much.

Erica was waiting for me to explain so I shook my head. “Suffice it to say things are complicated.” I gave an exaggerated look around the room and put a finger over my lips. Erica frowned, but after a moment’s thought she got the point and nodded.

I stood, offering her a hand. “You want a bite to eat? If I’m not mistaken, this food should be safe. For now.”

The slender girl’s dream-self was way too light in my grip. I could have easily tossed her across the room with one hand. She looked towards the food hungrily. “Wherever my body is, I don’t think it’s getting enough calories. I’m always starving. Do you really not mind? No other royal visitors would dare eat with a human servant.”

“Hell with that. If it’s truly my room for while I am here, then I can declare you my guest for the interim, right?”

She blinked. “I…I suppose so. Though, I doubt it’s ever been done.”

I grinned. “Always a first time. But you should hurry before the tiger there eats everything.”

The skinny young woman fell upon the overladen table like a ravenous wraith. Even Khan raised an eyebrow at her famished consumptions before returning to his own platter.

I went to join her, though oddly enough I didn’t feel hungry. Do angels need to eat? And what does eating in a dream realm actually accomplish anyway, did it replenish energy somehow? I didn’t know the answers.

What I did know is that my words about things being complicated were likely an understatement. Isaiah’s earlier warning about needing to think and to treat everything as a deadly scenario - no matter how gilded the setting may seem to be - rang through my head.

I had a feeling he was not only right, but horribly right. Suddenly I felt like a certain desert planet farm-boy entering the dangerous space-port bar and saying that he’d be cautious before bad men threatened his life. So where was Obi-wan to show up and kick ass with an elegant blue lightsaber?

Does a saber-toothed tiger-sized Khan count?

~o~O~o~

After being reassured there was plenty of time, I took a dip in the huge hot jacuzzi thing. Calling it a tub really didn’t do its size justice. Erica refused to get in with me, not unless I wanted her to give me a sponge bath. Uh no, the thought of that was way too weird. It may have been four years for her since she nearly caused Tamara’s spirit to be lost to darkness, but it was still pretty fresh for me. The thought itself, however, prompted further inquiries into the whole time difference situation.

“Does this place have normal days and nights? Is that how you’ve been tracking your four years?” I asked, rising from the soothingly toasty waters so I could speak without blowing more bubbles. The scents they’d mixed in were perfect, not too strong but with a lovely and subtle aroma. I never thought I’d be saying that about bath fragrances, but there you go. It was really nice.

Erica, a.k.a. Fields (which is how I usually remembered her), shook her head. “Time here is odd. Depending on where you are in the keep - or the region beyond - it can flow differently. It can be sunny in the courtyard but up on the battlements a full moon will shine in a night sky.”

“If that’s the case, how do you know how long it’s been since you got here?” I asked, puzzled because without a frame of reference how could it be tracked? Sleep cycles?

She gestured over an empty palm and a silver pocket watch appeared. “I created this. It’s magic, not science, but the working is a blend of both. It’s linked to the ticking of time according to my perceptions, on a nano-second scale.”

The watch glimmered in my spirit-sight, an amazingly intricate magical pattern yet all fitting together much like swiss precision timepieces I had seen on the Internet. I was impressed. “Very cool.”

That earned a genuine smile, an expression that had never crossed her face back at Whateley. Whatever had happened to her throughout all this time, Erica was clearly not the same girl she had used to be. The question remained: who was she now?

“Thanks,” she said as the watch vanished. “A lot of experiences here are subjective. Rooms in the keep can shift and change, but once you figure out the patterns you won’t get lost.” She stared at the silly baby angels surrounding the pool. “When I first got here I got lost a lot. There are…things…that are best left undisturbed in the sub-levels.” Shivering, she dipped a bare foot into the hot water.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Giving me a thoughtful look - which totally didn’t cause me to feel awkward due to me being naked in the water and all - she said, “At the ball tonight, if anyone offers you food, drink, or anything at all, if they don’t bear the mark of the golden crown on a sable background politely refuse the offer. There are many Houses in attendance tonight, only the Queen’s has guest-obligation towards you. The others don’t.”

That was useful information. It was my turn to say “Thanks!” while trying to figure out how to tell Zap and Tsáyidiel. For that matter, how would I keep Khan from eating an offered treat? I’d have to try and stay alert for such a threat.

“Are there many, uh, humans here?” I asked, trying to get through as many questions as I could while we had the chance.

“A few. They come and go, I may be the only one stuck permanently at the moment.”

“At the moment?”

“I’ve been told there have been others. No one will say what happened to them, they only give nasty grins and reply that I’ll find out. But the Queen likes to keep up to date with the goings-on of the mortal realm as she calls it. She’s fascinated by technology’s transformation of our world, though doesn’t care much for technology itself.”

“I’m guessing there aren’t any computers or such here.”

She made a face. “No. If there had been, and if it had so much as a single baud connection back home, I would have gotten a message out.” Her eyes darted about the room as she muttered, “Which isn’t anything the Queen wouldn’t already know.”

Changing the subject and hoping it would be safer for her to discuss, I asked, “What else about this ball can you tell me? I’m going to have to wear a fancy dress, aren’t I…” Just saying it caused a cringe as I realized that, unlike my practice sessions with Zap, tonight we’d be surrounded by immaculately graceful fae and not a room full of clumsy kids. And the faeries likely would be more than happy to laugh loudly at any missteps. Just wonderful.

Erica pondered. “The ball has been planned for a couple weeks, lords and ladies from other pockets of dream are attending. As for your attire, the Queen’s personal pixie tailors are available at your convenience. They’re busy working up gown suggestions to bring in even now. You should take this time to relax and be prepared for…anything.” She obviously wanted to say more but caught herself and fell silent.

“Huh.” I sank deeper into the hot scented waters and let my thoughts wander. Everything just seemed so surreal: fantasy castle, finding Erica, not to mention what I did back at the temple. Why had I done that anyway? It was as if a compulsion had struck me, a need born from a crushing sense of responsibility. Was that need from Gabriel’s memories somehow? The last fragment I could remember had her about to go see Aradia. Soren had once called me by that name (hence it sticking and being chosen as my codename), and there was no way he would have said it lightly. The guy was far too serious.

Closing my eyes I focused on the end of that memory, trying somehow if possible to force it to continue. What had happened after? Who exactly had the real Aradia been?

For once I succeeded at doing something crazily mystical on purpose instead of randomly triggering stuff like usual. This time my mind went clear and filled with a deliberate vision of a day long past.

 

Three angels flew across a sky resplendent with the pink clouds of a calm sunset. The three were not alike for their wings were of divergent shades: one purest white, another drenched in dark crimson, and the last a solid grey.

Upon a hilltop overlooking an outcropping of shore their feet once again touched the base earth. Waves below caressed where rock met sand to swirl around a tall circle of stonework. The monument vibrated with the mystic energies flowing from the world’s spirit, a being of great power but trying to slumber in peace and whose dreams kept getting disturbed by activity on its surface.

Standing at the top of the hill was a figure cloaked in the dark fur of a mighty beast. The figure’s hair of deep gold whipped about in the cold wind, each strand glowing iridescent in the moonlight. With eyes bound and hidden by their own fur-lined wrappings, a female voice addressed only one of the three winged arrivals.

“Welcome, Gabriel. I have been expecting you. The tea is almost ready and you have questions, come.”

With sure footing, the woman led them towards a fire busily boiling a small cauldron of water. Surrounding the flame-pit were many logs, clearly laid out to be used as benches. Sitting there waiting was another woman whose shimmering hair was not unlike a white fog flowing over the hills provided by slender shoulders. She said nothing, but pointed ears were listening.

Two of the angels took a seat while the third remained standing. The woman with bound eyes first served the two who sat with ceramic cups filled with crushed leaves and freshly steaming water. She offered another to the warrior who, after a brief hesitation, took what was offered. Filling her own cup last after handing a fourth to the silent lady of the fae, she sat upon her own piece of driftwood.

Gabriel spoke after taking a polite sip of the offered refreshment. “Tamiel claims you are the daughter of the First, called Aradia. Is this true?”

The woman gave a small bitter laugh. “He would answer that as a daughter I am a failure, and I would not debate his opinion.”

Tamiel shifted uncomfortably. Gabriel frowned and said, “Please forgive me if my question offends-”

A quick wave of Aradia’s hand attempted to reassure the archangel. “They do not offend, Lady Gabriel. Perhaps a better explanation is that yes, I am a product of the Lightbringer’s pattern, as mixed and matched with that of a demi-goddess.”

Camael’s baritone echoed off the nearby cliffs, yet his tone was subdued. “A demi-goddess, not a human? Explain…please.”

Gabriel looked to her guardian in surprise. His being polite was unusual.

Aradia took a sip of her tea. “Lucifer’s pattern is too…large, for lack of a better term, to be merged with a human female. Many normal woman died before the gestation period was complete. As I understand, he gave up his attempts with the daughters of men and looked instead for the daughters of women and their gods, finding my mother, Artemis. As an untainted demi-goddess she was deemed a suitable possibility and taken for such against her will. Thus was I born, much to mother’s dismay and terrible fury.”

The armored angel considered. “You said he believes you a failure, yet here you sit. And power akin to his shines within you, I can feel it.”

Aradia regarded the warrior, eyes bound by cloth somehow still staring deeply. “Oh yes, my pattern channels the light. That’s the entire problem.”

“I do not understand.”

Aradia smiled sadly. “The light shall be my end. For if I embrace what it offers it will destroy me. My pattern is flawed and would shatter from such a force. And yet that power sits ever present at the center of my being and is eager to do its work. But you see, I am only a pale reflection of the First’s glory, and thus perhaps one of his greatest disappointments.”

“I…I am sorry, Lady Aradia.” Camael stared down at his cup.

Gabriel understood her protector’s mood. So did Aradia for she spoke of it. “As am I,” the blind-yet-not-blind woman said gently. “I know what you hope for, oh Hero of the First War. Just as many of the Grigori have visited over the years and briefly shared those hopes. But I am not the fulfillment of such, much as I may wish it were otherwise.”

The warrior shifted his attention to the shining moon above. “And yet the light is there. Its work continues, and that shall have to suffice. I must think on this.” He strode off a ways to be alone with his thoughts.

Tamiel appeared confused, but remained silent.

Gabriel, however did not. “By the bindings of your sight, may I assume you also share a hint of the First’s gifts in that arena as well?”

A bitter laugh answered. “They are one and the same: perception and the light by which to see. Yes, I know why Tamiel has brought you. I asked my good friend, Saibh, to join us. She is the High Priestess of the Mother and she has a role in what is to come. As do we all.”

“You’ve foreseen it then? What we must do? I have not been able to pierce any route within the pattern that leads to an ending not of further ruin for this world.”

“These eyes see more possibilities than I can handle, Lady Gabriel. Hence they are bound, for my control is equally lacking in comparison to my progenitor’s.”

The lady of the fae broke her silence. “You give yourself far too little credit, like usual. You foresaw the rise of the corruption that now plagues the Grigori in the east, you convinced your uncle to bring the mortal Enoch to the attentions of a wayward Heavenly scout, and thus by your actions have you summoned the one Archangel who might, if we are brave and skilled enough, avert a true catastrophe.”

Gabriel regarded Aradia with a new measure of respect. “I would hear more.”

Aradia shook her head in frustration. “It’s not all clear! I only get glimpses and fragments. You being here may help; so far only my uncle has been able to tease ordered meanings from all I am shown. He’s waiting for you in a cave further along the coast and will explain, but he insists on talking to you alone.”

“Is that so?” Gabriel said wryly. “He would be the second this day to insist on such conditions. It is either flattering or frustrating, I am not sure which. And who would your uncle be to try and impose such a restriction?”

“Only the one who raised me after finding the Lightbringer’s abandoned failure of a child wandering in a forest, defenseless and hungry. I know him as ‘uncle’, but you know him by another name entirely.”

Feeling even her infinite patience wearing thin, Gabriel grew annoyed. “What name?”

“Azrael.”

It is rare for an Archangel to be so well and truly surprised. This revelation caused Gabriel’s thoughts to spin rapidly only to resolve with renewed purpose. “If Judgment himself is taking a hand in these events then a path must exist, albeit one balanced upon a razor’s edge. While this gives me hope, it also speaks of events much larger in scope than just this one world’s fate.”

Gabriel stood, stretching soft wings out behind. “Saibh, Tamiel. Please wait here for Camael to return from his own musings. Aradia, if you would, please guide me to ‘Uncle Azrael’.” She failed to suppress a quiet chuckle at the thought of her sullen and reserved brother, the Angel of Death himself, being referred to in such affectionate terms.

Tamiel rose as well. “Lady Gabriel, if I may, it would be faster for me to take you. I believe I know the cave he has ensconced himself within. Aradia, alas, is earth-bound: she has no wings with which to fly.”

Aradia confirmed with a rueful smile. “Another aspect meriting Lucifer’s disapproval, I’m afraid.”

The archangel examined the Goddess-borne Nephelim. “I see. Very well.” Turning to go, she paused and looked back at Aradia with a brow narrowed with deeper concentration. As Aradia, Saibh, and Tamiel all waited in puzzlement, Gabriel suddenly smiled with moonlight twinkling in her eyes. “Yes, I believe I do see.”

Launching herself into the air without explanation, the archangel called to them. “We should not keep your uncle waiting and I find myself quite anxious to learn what he has to say. Warn Camael this may take awhile. My brother Azrael has historically been a terse conversationalist, but when matters of import arise he instead turns quite verbose. One never knows which aspect may manifest.” Wings of grey rose to join those of fresh snow, and together they flocked towards their brother of Judgment, one eager to arrive and the other resigning themselves to whatever fate may come.

Back on the cliff the fire crackled loudly, sending sparks skyward to chase after the feathers of Heaven.

“Has their arrival caused anything to solidify in your vision?” Saibh inquired of her companion.

A moment’s pause before the woman with covered eyes replied, “The pattern has shifted, marking a beginning and an end.”

“An end to the Mother’s pain?” the priestess asked hopefully.

“No, Saibh. An end to mine.”

 

“Aradia!” Someone was shouting and hands were pulling me up by the armpits.

Whatever clarity there was going in to the memory had been lost coming out. Confusion set in for the scene had been recalled from two distinct perspectives, both overlapping yet split within my mind: Gabriel’s and also…Aradia’s. The latter’s recollection was of sounds, smells, and a raw perception of the energy patterns of everything around her. Each minute detail had clamored for her attention, beating against the inner fortress of her own control. It reminded me of Leland and his issues of sensory overload, except this went far beyond the usual five senses and included a direct connection to the structures that underlay all matter and spirit.

The bulwark of that indomitable will had been under constant siege from those perceptions, and also by the burning wellspring of power that lay at her core. A power I recognized and knew all too well. But where the light healed me and kept me whole, to her it had been as if a towering furnace scorched her soul every minute of every hour.

Through the entire conversation with the visiting angels she had been in agony, that furnace recognizing its siblings and desperately trying touch them and reassure them, all while railing against the mental force keeping it in check.

I don’t know how she could have withstood it and yet she had, all while holding a normal and focused conversation. She was assaulted from without and within, but had forged a palisade of discipline in order to function.

Compared to the magnitude of such an effort I felt small and unworthy.

Erica dragged me out of the pool, cold tile reminding of where I was and why. I didn’t have time to dwell on the past, or think about what it meant that I had remembered something from Aradia’s own perspective in addition to Gabriel’s. Mindblowing as that was, I had my own pressing problems to solve. For example: without meaning to, I had flared brightly again in automatic response to the remembered pain. Shit. It definitely helped me feel better, but I did what I could to tamp it down anyway.

“Uh, sorry about that,” I said, seeing Erica leaning over me with an unfathomable expression.

“Are you…alright?” she asked, though I think she caught herself before saying what she initially intended.

“Yes, I’m fine. Really.” I moved to stand and she got to her feet as well, wrapping me with a super-soft fluffy towel and applying a second one to my head.

As she did so, she leaned in close to one ear. “Aradia,” she whispered hesitantly, “how powerful are you?”

Her question caught me off guard. There was a measure of desperation with how she asked, emphasized by the way she kept busily over-toweling my hair.

Even if the Queen had ordered her to ask or find that out somehow, either Erica was a much better actress than I would ever have guessed or she was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could get her out of here. And she’d been using my codename too, when she knew full well the name I had at Whateley. Sure, Jordan wasn’t my real name either, but not many people knew that.

Fuck. I was without a clue on how to even approach getting Danielle free. All we knew was that she’d been stuck here and likely kept in those sub-levels Erica had mentioned. How could I help Erica too? And if she was indeed the source that set Azazel upon us at the lake, was being stuck here a punishment fitting for all her crimes?

Answering for more than just the obvious audience I replied quietly, “Well, we will just have to see.” Then louder I added, “Know any spells that can quickly dry hair? There was a girl in Poe who had a really handy one.”

She stared, clearly wondering if I was asking to pretend that I was weak for the benefit of whomever was listening. “Sure, of course. Hold still. And the tailors should be here any minute.”

With a few mumbled words, Erica pulled the moisture from each strand, turning them from a dark blood red, much like the remembered color of Camael’s wings, and into its usual brighter scarlet and golden metallic shine.

Truthfully, of course, I didn’t know how to cast even a simple spell like that. All I had was a mighty sledgehammer that liked to do crazy things without me understanding how or even sometimes why.

I fervently hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

~o~O~o~

My toga-dress was instantly judged by the pixie tailors as ‘lacking appropriate elegance’. Said tailors, mind you, were a set of three miniature old grannies with dragonfly wings glued to their backs. Not the Cinderella god-mother types either - no rosy plump cheeks here - more like deeply crevassed faces with missing teeth and sunken eye sockets and wisps of scraggly greyish-silver hair hanging about in unkempt clumps.

But I remained impeccably polite, after all they were holding super sharp platinum sewing needles and from how they held them I bet they could sew up your ears faster than a hemline.

What proceeded was a very different experience than standing in Cecilia Rogers’ shop, let me tell you. Negotiations amongst the three were admittedly entertaining while they poked and prodded me every which way:

 

“Where them wings gone? She’s supposed to have ‘em!”

“She put them away, dearie. Angels can do that you know.”

“There are those at the higher courts who keep their wings present at all times as symbols of their station. This, obviously, is not one of those.”

“Peh. She gonna burst ‘em out then in the middle of dancin’? We wrap her up too tight and that’d be a sight to see! Feathers tearin’ fabric left and right wherever Claire did the stitchin’. Rip, shred!”

“Oh my. Best we design for the wings making an appearance or the poor girl’s attire could be all undone.”

“I concur. And for the record, my stitches are legendary for their strength, as the surcoat of Count Nathlain can attest.”

“Angel feathers ain’t like the tug of a bevy of horny chambermaids tryin’ to get to the middle of their favorite puddin’, they is sharp or even aflame. Fabric needs be durable as well as sexy.”

 

“Ideas on length, ladies? Perhaps an elegant belled ruffle, with the trail behind sweeping clear any who would dare an intimate distance as she passes by.”

“Are ye daft? We already said she might pop them wings! Wings mean flight ya ol’ coot, jus’ picture her hoverin’ there in the hall with six to seven feet o’ cloth danglin’ under them toes. Right silly ifn’ ya ask me.”

“Ooh! Maybe put a working on it so it wraps her feet all fluffy like a cloud if she floats upward! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Much as I despise admitting it, Marion has a point. No train and no spell. Let her fly with grace and not absurdities.”

“Aww. But-”

“No.”

 

“Dear me, what colors? No sweetie, you just stand there and hush. Let us work. I was thinking a lovely violet, with blue-highlights.”

“You and yer violets. I swear every customer ye be wantin’ to pin them purple flowers to their bosoms.”

“The guest list indicates many royals in attendance. While the outfit she arrived in lacks style for such an event, the color choice is a proper indication of her equivalent status. Which is precisely why she is in need of something more fitting to show her elevation beyond such considerations. She hails from the Ethereal, and her attire should serve as a reminder of such. Soft white with gold accents to match and emphasize those eyes and those shining streaks in her hair should serve.”

“But that’s so passé! At least have the gold start darker near her feet and grow brighter on top.”

“Aye, that may work. Ya hear that, Claire? Beth had a good idea! Mark the occasion, for as clear as the bald patch on me head ‘tis a special day!”

“Be nice, Marion.”

 

Once the decisions were complete, those three pixes fell upon the racks of material with a speed and frenzy akin to hummingbirds high on a blend of meth and cocaine. Scissors snipped, needles flashed, thread spun about, and bits and pieces of rejected fabric went flying in a miniature tornado surrounding the hovering turbo-tailors.

What came out of it all, I had to admit, was gorgeous. A tight white gown covered the chest with a relaxed v-shape exposing a stylish amount of cleavage all while clinging tightly to the stomach below. Shiny embroidered golden patterns ran up the sides from the floor all the way to shoulder straps only a few inches wide leaving the arms completely bare. The back was entirely exposed, more of that sheer gold embroidery running across the top of the hips like a belt only for the lower back, before letting white cloth fall to just touch the ground as a slightly expanding skirt.

It was elegantly simple in sharp contrast to the other dresses I had glimpsed from their collection, something which suited me just fine. I slipped it on without protest.

I did get stuck wearing matching high heels. I was going to complain, but Erica reminded me that height had an advantage and that the dress was cut with those pointy stilts as a requirement. She did mutter a few gaelic words at the shoes, and when I stood they felt remarkably comfortable and balanced. I whispered to thank her yet again, earning me another one of those rare smiles.

The pixie tailors, now satisfied with my clothing, proceeded into yet another debate regarding jewelry, hairstyle, and makeup. I resigned myself and just closed my eyes (unless ordered to open them) to let them do their thing. Thus I became adorned with dangling earrings of medium-sized golden stars - think crosses but with the ends curving to points - along with a thin strip of gold inscribed with Celtic knot-work resting against my brow. My hair had been pulled away from the face and ears, yet still cascaded in rolling waves over the exposed skin on my back. Either the tiara itself or some kind of magic held everything in place, maybe both. The makeup they had applied gave an intriguing look of teenage youth mixed with adult womanhood, all without it being obvious there was anything put on in the first place.

How that works is something I may never figure out.

While the shock of seeing a young lady in the mirror had slowly worn down over the past couple months, dressed like this just re-emphasized it all. And now I had to go in front of fae lords and ladies with thousands of years of social experience. Nervous? Me? Oh hell yes.

After a few minor adjustments by tugging fabric here or there and pulling on the earrings, the three tailors judged me passable.

Turning away from the full-length set of conjured mirrors they had used to get everything just so, I gave the three pixie crones a deep curtsy.

Remembering mention in Circe’s class about the dangers of directly thanking members of the fae, as apparently they might take insult, I said instead, “This is a stupendous work of fashion which would be the envy of the courts of Heaven.” Okay, so I had no idea what the ‘courts of Heaven’ had for fashion, but hey, it sounded good.

The reaction was priceless. Those three ancient women hovered higher and their faces beamed with pride as they returned my curtsy with synchronized flourishes. The middle one declared formally, “It has been our pleasure, my lady, and we rejoice in the praise of those we have the honor to serve. Your gown and its accoutrements are yours to keep forevermore as a testament to your visit within our hold.” The one on the left gave the middle pixie a stern look as if about to object, only to be biffed on the head with some leftover fabric by the third.

Would the gown and everything stay with me when I returned to, as Erica put it, the mortal realm? I had no idea but figured it would be best to treat it all as if it would. Insulting such a gift by asking would not only be rude, it would also show some serious ignorance.

As in it would expose how clueless I was out here in this land of crazy fantasy. Yep. And to think that only a short set of weeks ago my days were filled with staring at databases and fielding phone calls from IT personnel who kept forgetting to keep internal DNS entries up to date.

If they could see me now I bet they’d either pass out from the shock or try to weasel out my personal phone number with awkward offers of coffee. Heh.

A loud chime echoed through the room, causing many eyes to look towards the door. After a pause Erica cleared her throat. “My lady, may the Seneschal enter?”

Oops. They were waiting for me. “Yes, of course,” I replied, gesturing at the entrance. The ladies moved into action, pushing the cloth racks aside with a strength far beyond their diminutive size to leave the entrance area clear. Two of them took positions besides the large elm-marked door as it opened, revealing the tall sidhe seneschal as well as Zap and Tsáyidiel. Gwydion was still wearing his blood-crimson robe, a match to the one Erica had quickly changed into while the pixies had been arguing over how best to throw paint onto my face. The golden crown symbol could be seen clearly on the shoulders, now that I knew to look for it.

Tsáyidiel had shifted into a panther form matching Tiger-Khan in size. His only nod to fashion was a pair of emerald earrings dangling from his ears. Zap, however, was a different story.

Gone was the simple loincloth. It had been replaced by a sheer linen skirt with a belt of thick bronze draped around his waist with feathers engraved into the metal itself. Hanging from the center of that belt were layers of dark and light blue fabrics with a pattern ending in further bronze shield-like emblems. His chest was bare, but around the neck was a metallic collar curving down to lie flat against chest and shoulders in a hammered circle of blues and more bronze. The Eye of Horus necklace lay proudly atop the collar. Oh, and his face was done up in an even more pronounced Egyptian-style dark makeup.

He looked every inch a proud and noble Egyptian deity and he had the regal expression to match. Standing there wearing such an outfit all hints of the boy Zap that had lain behind those eyes were gone. The warrior god was here in force, his stance solid and sure.

It was the warrior who let those piercing eyes trail from my feet to my head and it was the god who favored me with a nod and smile of appreciation.

Something inside fluttered and I tried hard not to turn away or blush. Dammit. My fair skin probably showed the reaction anyway.

Gwydion spoke, distracting from my confused emotions. “Lady Aradia, the time for the night’s ball has arrived. Are you prepared to attend?”

“I…yes, Seneschal, I am.” I tried to stand taller in the heels strapped to my feet.

“Excellent. Might I inquire as to your official titles for the pronouncement of your arrival?” He asked the question without a trace of curiosity and only perfunctory requirement, but I didn’t believe that for a second. Not that I had a good answer to give him.

The panther was swift to my rescue. “The Lady is known as Aradia, Beloved Seraph of the House of Light, and I am Tsáyidiel, of the Kerubim and in the service to the Lady and her House. The personal guardian at her side is known as Khan. You already know the titles and honors belonging to Lord Heru.”

I fought incredibly hard to hide my surprise. A Seraph? Weren’t those the angels on fire with six wings? But I only had two! And what the heck was the House of Light? Were there more like me? I was so going to grill him later, but didn’t dare say anything now. Shit!

Gwydion inclined his head. “Of course. If you would follow me, our other guests are waiting.” He turned to walk down the hall, pausing only to make sure we all were coming.

I stepped forward, Tiger-Khan moving to my side and Erica following behind. Zap - or maybe I should say Heru - offered an arm, his kohl-darkened eyes burning with intensity. Swallowing quietly I took it, feeling overwhelmed and out of place. Tsáyidiel took a position on the Egyptian god’s other side and the four of us walked steadily towards whatever was waiting.

A glance over my shoulder showed Erica keeping pace and I will admit to hoping she could stay nearby throughout the evening’s ordeal. Oddly though, the scars on her arms were no longer visible. A quick check of the Seneschal’s face showed the same. The skin blemishes I had observed earlier had disappeared.

Glamour. It had to be. Some sort of fae magic covering it all up. And the light from our rooms had exposed them, meaning our rooms had been enchanted to strip away any such effects from the occupants. If we had been anything other than what we appeared, it would have been immediately revealed for all to see.

All of which served as a scary reminder that where we were headed next was likely to be full of things that could be absolutely anything other than what they appeared.

Gulp.

Chapter 16 - Party

Have I mentioned that I never was much of one for attending large parties?

I mean sure, I’d attended my share back in college and watched the fraternity guys consume ridiculous amounts of alcohol with testosterone-fueled bravado and gusto while the girls all raced each other in competition to see who could pass out first. I’ve also dealt with what happens after, like when they dropped my roommate (their so-called pledge brother) off at our dorm, having literally carried him in with his feet dragging on the floor only to dump him on his bed. Yeah, they didn’t stick around to deal with making sure he didn’t choke and kill himself during the night, or to clean up the mess he made of his bed, clothes, and wall when the inevitable poison purge kicked in.

But that’s the aftermath.

Most of the parties I’d actually enjoyed were rather low-key geek fests full of gamers, stoners, and only a few true booze-hounds that other friends would cut off sometime around midnight to prevent trips to an Emergency Room. Pizza, vodka, beer, and music all consumed by youngsters pretending to be philosophical while examining the unsure meanings of their lives. None of these were events of swirling intrigue and power politics with formal clothing and all the pretentiousness regarding titles. Obviously I also had never needed to worry about walking in high heels and possibly tripping over the hem of my own dress. But nothing could have prepared for what we found within the fae keep’s great hall.

Behind those huge double doors was not a great hall as one would expect. Having toured England when I was a kid I’d seen at least a few glimpses of those. Zap’s words about this entire realm being a dream echoed with truth as we were escorted inside and loudly announced to the gathered throng with our names and fancy titles. Beasts with fur, scales, and feathers danced and twirled between glittering ancient trees looming over a tremendous clearing of dirt and grass. Immaculate and sensuous sidhe, escapees from an avant-garde fashion show designed by artisans doped to the gills on innumerable pharmaceuticals, glided past in perfect sync to music blending the sounds of nature with a full orchestra. Ocean waves crashed for the drumbeats, flutes merged with the trills from the throats of songbirds, all while a wolf-pack’s howl carried the main melody accompanied by violins and cellos. The musicians hid in the shadows of the trees surrounding the dance floor, while an extraordinary moon cast illumination past leafy canopies to mix with the spiral glow of sparks emitted by a horde of will-o-wisps as they darted over and through the arms, legs, and unnameable limbs of the revelers.

If it hadn’t been for Zap’s steady arm holding tight I would have fled in an attempt to preserve my sanity. He also took care of all the nodding and formal acknowledgments to the parade of beings forming the confusing pattern of greeters. Tsáyidiel and Khan took up positions as guards with Erica hovering nervously nearby as we dealt with the mix of folks who had unpronounceable or outright unintelligible monikers. I just smiled and shook or touched all the offered hands, claws, fins, and feathers as politely as I could. While the sidhe were stuck on bowing and all that, other races seemed a bit more contemporary.

Once the gathering finally flitted off to be seen and noticed elsewhere, Zap offered me a tall crystal flute of clear liquid. Leaning in he whispered, “It’s safe. I took it from him.” He pointed at a crown-emblazoned fig tree that was slowly carrying several serving platters of refreshments right between the chaos. Somehow the fae never collided with it, no matter how insanely crazy or frenetic their dance moves which were simply color-smeared blurs.

Taking a cautious sip I found it to be nothing more than water. And while I’m sure the ones with more eccentric aromas were brilliantly intoxicating, I was grateful for his selection. I was also grateful he’d already realized where safe refreshment was to be found without me having to remember to tell him. Because, uh, I’d forgotten as soon as the doors opened to the inner mayhem.

A tall and unearthly handsome sidhe approached us, wearing an outfit that reminded of a Cossack’s wide pant legs and kaftan complete with a purple silk sash around the waist. The guy also could have given Brendan serious competition on a basketball court with how he towered over us. He executed an exaggerated formal bow, revealing a tight black braid of hair dangling behind his back.

“Lord Heru, Lady Aradia, please permit me to welcome you to our gathering,” he said in a Slavic accent of some sort. “I am Duke Perun, Warleader of the House of Oak.”

“Greetings Duke, we are pleased to be here.” Again Zap offered a polite nod, and with his tug on an arm I tried my best to do the same. How to tell when one should curtsy or bow was still a mystery, but so far Zap had only nodded. Guess he considered both of us of higher rank than, well, everyone.

The Duke smiled widely at me before commenting to Zap, “It is not often that one sees those who are of El traveling with those of Kemet.” The guy’s focus also lingered on where the gown exposed my chest for far too long. Some male habits are apparently universal.

“I suppose not,” Zap said. “But stranger things have been known to happen. We have yet to meet the Queen who so generously offered us invitations. Is she planning to attend?”

“Most certainly, sir,” Perun said, reluctantly tearing attention away from my cleavage. “She shall be along presently. From her invitation it is clear she has something unique in mind and we all look forward to its discovery. In the meantime, might I inquire as to what has brought you both to these distant shores? Perhaps we might offer aid.” The Duke said the last while giving yet another admiring look of obvious interest in my direction. His intonation also implied a larger offer than simple ‘aid’. Geeze. And I thought the fae were supposed to be subtle!

Enough was enough. “Oh,” I said in a fake bubbly voice. “We decided to fly hither and tither and just totally found ourselves here, you know?” I gave Perun a smile worthy of the most ditsy beach bunnies. “I was thinking we should try Mare Imbrium next, your moon view here is sooo inspiring!” I pointed at the overly large orb hanging above the trees. “Don’t you think so, Heru? You promised me a tour of the best romantic places! And I am so going to pout if you can’t deliver!”

Zap shot me a look best translated as ‘what the fuck?’ whereas Perun coughed and said, “Yes, I suppose that would be…romantic. I hope you two partake of what we may offer here as well. Please, enjoy the revelries.”

With that the Duke bowed again and stepped away. Tsáyidiel’s panther eyes stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

“What?” I said to the black jungle cat.

“We should dance,” Zap suggested smoothly. “It would prevent further awkward conversation.”

Dance? Ah dang. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.

~o~O~o~

Can I thank God for Cecilia Rogers? Because she deserves one heck of a Christmas gift as thanks for shoving me into her ballroom dance class.

Granted the music was completely different, but Zap led through a masterful adaptation of what we had learned in class allowing us to cross the dance area with dignities intact. He even kept us from colliding with the other frenetic fae dancers. Which was somewhat troubling by itself.

Student Zap was good - a natural even - but now? He pulled me through moves designed to compensate for the inexperience of one partner, ones which we had never seen let alone learned. It was clear he had become much more ‘Heru’ than ‘Zap’, and that disturbed me. Especially considering my own moments of random personality shifts when dealing with the other angels.

We were literally in a realm of dreams. How often have people behaved radically different from normal when in a dream? I can remember a few where I had done some things fairly out of character. Could that happen here too? Would I even remember what happened here once we got back? Would Zap?

He noticed my distracted thinking and adeptly guided us to the side where Tiger-Khan, Tsáyidiel, and Erica were waiting. Playing things back a few moments in my thoughts, I had come close in my inner distractions to stepping on what was best described as a Leprechaun with the head of a fox. Oops.

The crowd pressed in on all sides as the gathering slowly filled to capacity. Zap’s eyes peered professionally over the throng and he must have seen something because he moved closer and spoke into an ear.

“You should kiss me again.”

Startled, I blushed fiercely as my stomach tried to climb into my throat. What?

“They’re circling and about to pounce. They will request to dance with each of us separate, and try to woo us away from the crowd. Unless we are perceived as an item, we cannot politely refuse.”

Oh.

Swallowing back those rising butterflies I reminded myself that it all was just a dream. Biting a lip, I let him wrap arms around me, and before I could shy away he went for it and his lips found mine.

Yeah, okay, my eyes closed. Whether I kicked up a heel behind as well, I’ll never tell. So there. And he tasted minty, like he’d smuggled a breath mint into the ball just for this purpose. Which given him, could be possible.

The music chose that moment to pause before a massive horn section suddenly blared out, causing all dancing and talking to cease - as well as our kiss. For a shocked moment I thought the trumpets were for us, but Gwydion’s voice rang out announcing otherwise. Part of me wanted to kick him for triggering the interruption. Another part wanted to declare him my savior. Shit.

“Lords, Ladies! I give you our beloved Queen Fionnabhair of the House of Elm, Defender of the Contingent of Houses, and Duchess of Arcadia.”

The crowd parted down the middle and my jaw just about hit the floor as the silver-haired fae from Gabriel’s first memory began crossing towards the front of the gathering, moving with grace and confidence. She hadn’t aged a day from the vision of the thatched hut but wasn’t wearing the simple green linen she had on then. Instead a flowing emerald gown draped itself over her slender frame and a lengthy train trailed behind each of her oh-so-sensual steps.

One by one the fae bowed low - some took a knee - as she passed. Occasionally she paused to exchange pleasantries with those among the crowded guests pulsing with greater-than-average power. I had taken a spirit-side glimpse earlier, and while it had made me nauseous it had also made clear that within this crowd were some potent entities.

As she approached us I started to panic; I had no idea what the protocol should be for me and Zap. Should we kneel or bow? Kiss her cheeks? What?

Before I could decide or scour my memory for any guidance hidden in things I had read years ago, she was standing before us.

Zap, for the first time in the evening, bowed and I quickly took his lead and tried to execute a curtsy. Fortunately I didn’t fall on my face, yay again for Cecilia’s class? Tsáyidiel’s panther head dipped low, and to my surprise Khan’s did as well. Huh.

The Queen acknowledged our respect and smiled, though it never reached her eyes. “Welcome Lord Heru and Lady Aradia, your presence has been a pleasant surprise, and your efforts to restore a small piece of our realm’s history is clearly unprecedented.”

“Your Majesty,” Zap said with all formality. “Your invitation to join this gathering tonight was most welcome. It has been quite enjoyable.”

“Excellent. We trust you both shall find the rest of the evening particularly entertaining.”And with that she moved on. She didn’t acknowledge Erica at all.

Zap’s stance shifted from casual and relaxed to something much more primed for danger. I had to agree with him, I too had a sudden bad feeling about things.

At the end of the path closing behind her as she walked sat a wide wooden platform, one which the Queen ascended before facing the tree-lined hall.

“We bid thee all greetings and our welcome. We know many have traveled far to reach our realm, and that all are anxious as to why they were summoned. Fear not, worthy followers of the Contingency, all shall be revealed and we trust to your great satisfaction.”

There was a low twitter in the crowd, and it pressed closer with a feral eagerness.

“But first, we must acknowledge a stunning transformation to an area within our domain.” She turned and with a gesture several red-robed elves began chanting. A wide blue electric portal such as we had used before sprung into the space behind her, again leading to where we had arrived. “We invite you all to join us and behold what our foreign visitors have caused to be.”

She walked forward through the waiting portal and the crowd followed, taking us along with it. We emerged at the lake’s edge, the circle of stone before us and the moon now closer to the horizon. Somehow we’d lost Erica to the press of everyone else. As there were too many of the various fae behind us for me to find her, I gave up and looked ahead, taking in the scene at the lake. The fae who had been celebrating earlier were no longer visible, but I could still feel them. They hid in scattered spots within the restored forest all around.

And they were radiating nervousness if not outright panic.

They weren’t the only ones arrayed about either. A squad of armored fae knights, bowmen, and robed spellcasters encircled the ancient temple. Clearly we had walked through their mobilization when entering the keep.

Zap grabbed my arm with a strong grip, causing me to flinch. His eyes flashed with anger but he said quietly, “Stay calm and do nothing. Not yet.” Confused, I looked around again and this time caught a glimpse of the restored temple and what was at its center.

If he hadn’t given warning I don’t know what I would have done. Bound to a stone slab in the middle by softly glowing ropes was Danielle.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she watched the emerald-clad queen approach the circle’s edge followed by the large menagerie of fae that had assembled.

Beside me I heard Khan growl, and knowing Zap was likely right I placed a hand upon his fuzzy head. My own anger went ice cold, and I was preparing to…do something beyond words.

Within the crowd, however, a low whispering could be heard which quickly became louder. They were saying a name, over and over.

“Saibh! Saibh! Saibh!”

I should have realized it and made the connection earlier when I’d had the vision of Aradia’s campfire, but her fae friend hadn’t been seen too clearly and I was far too focused coming out of it on Gabriel and Aradia. Danielle, bound once again to a seat, was a younger version of that lady. Flowing white hair and all.

“Behold!” the Queen shouted. “The Temple of the Mother restored, and her priestess returned! It is time, my people! Time to break the shackles that have kept us banished from our true home.”

A cry of excitement rose from the gathered beings and they began to chant. “Home! Home! Home!”

“What do we do?” I said to Zap and Tsáyidiel. “Can we grab her and fly off?”

Tsáyidiel bared fangs. “No. Those ropes bind her spirit to this realm. It is a strong working tied into the heart of where we stand.”

Zap agreed. “Cutting them would likely take too long, and hold its own dangers.” His hawk-like eyes noted all the fighters arrayed around, plus those within the crowd who would likely jump in.

Again the Queen’s voice lashed out like a whip. “You all know what was done and how we were betrayed. How this one,” she said pointing at Danielle, “took it on herself to go against royal decree and ally herself with another Host unleashing the curse forcing those who could to flee and those who could not into permanent bondage.”

From the masses a voice cried out. “Kill her! Let there be justice!” Others echoed the cry, but the Queen’s icy gaze quieted them.

“Fear not!” she declared. “Justice will be done. But should it not also be tempered with the chance for mercy? What was done can still be undone.” She turned to address Danielle. “Saibh! High Priestess of the Mother, you have one chance to survive and it is this: release your spell that lies upon all our people as they lie locked within mortal form. Free them from their ignorance, free them that they might gather and break the barriers that have separated our people for so long! Free the Mother’s constraints so her love may flow once more upon her people! Your temple is restored, is this not a sign of providence? Do this and you shall go free!”

A hush fell upon the crowd as they awaited Danielle’s answer. A mix of anger and hope rippled through them.

Danielle, tears upon her face, cried out, “How can I? I don’t remember! I’m just a student, I’ve barely touched whatever you think I was! Only a few scattered dreams…”

Ancient rage flowed across the Queen’s face. “Then remember! Or the fact that you were once my sister will not preserve you! Remember!” Her command echoed over the forest, but it wasn’t the tearful girl before her that did as she had bid.

It was me. An avalanche of fragments crashed upon my thoughts.

 

A fine powdery snow rapidly covered rocks and hills as the forest darkened into cloud-covered twilight. Beneath the cedars and the tall plateaus formed by their outstretched limbs is where she found the weeping golden-haired child.

“Come,” was all she said as she pulled the child into her arms, wrapping the little girl into the folds of her own thick fur coat. “Warmth first, then food.”

“No!” With tears freezing upon reddened cheeks, the girl struggled. “I can’t!”

The lady pulled back her hood, tilting graceful up-swept and pointed ears towards the surrounding trees. “Why? Where are your parents? I sense no one for leagues, has something happened?”

Shivering, the girl whispered, “Daddy. He flew away.”

Slender shoulders tightened. “Flew? Is he coming back?”

Fresh sobs as tiny hands clutched at the large coat. “No. He said he had to go. He said there was nothing more he could do.” After a moment of sniffling the child wailed, “I failed Daddy and now he’s gone!”

Tears quickly turned to ice as the lady tried to comfort the distraught child. “Hush, now. Let’s get you indoors; I’m sure he’ll come back.”

“No! He said his brother was coming. Daddy said I had to wait for him, right here. He said it would be up to his brother to judge me.” Squirming with surprising strength for a child her size, the girl escaped and fell into the snow. “I have to stay! Even if he kills me, I have to!”

“If you do you’ll freeze, little one.”

“I don’t care!” Small irises of pure gold peered past the fae’s shoulder and went wide with a mixture of awe and terrible fear. “He’s here.”

Frowning for there had been no sound, the lady turned. The grey clouds momentarily reflected in her own pale icy eyes went black. Stretching from horizon to horizon, feathered wings darker than the night had silently covered the sky.

As she beheld the immense shadow of the angel above, the lady whispered more to herself than to the child.

“I feel cold.”

 

“Tell me about the Mother, please?”

Bright and musical laughter. “What would you like to know that I haven’t shared already?”

“Does she really care for all life?”

“Of course she does, a lifeless world is barren and sleeps through eternity. Mother rejoices with all living beings who share her existence. Their energies are hers, and hers are theirs.”

“Even mine?”

“Yours come from elsewhere. We’ve talked about this.”

“So she doesn’t love me?”

“Oh child, she loves you as I do. With all her heart.”

 

“Saibh! I just can’t do it, it hurts too much!”

The young soon-to-be woman lay on a cot, blankets drenched with her sweat and bunched into knots from legs and arms unable to hold still as agonies twisted through the body.

“I know it hurts. But your uncle is correct. If you cannot draw enough to keep your perceptions locked on the here and now, your mind will shatter. Fear not, for we are here.” Gentle yet strong hands held her down while another washed the forehead’s fever, the cool damp cloth brushing above the linen binding the eyes.

“But the power! It burns!”

“It does, and I’m so sorry but it always will. You grow into your father’s legacy, and it was never meant to be touched by mortal beings.”

“I hate it! And I hate him! Why did he make me? Why?”

“Shh. Now is not the time to question such a thing. You are here and you are loved. By us all, even your uncle. Hold to that thought, stay calm, and do as he has taught. Peace within, peace without. There. Tap a tiny fragment of the smallest shards of the power and hold it within your sight. Focus, Aradia. Focus and let all other visions fall away…”

A painful grunt escaped gritted teeth as the girl’s limbs began to glow.

 

“You’ve known this day was coming for a long time. The archangel’s presence heralded its arrival.”

“But what we have to do…”

“Is terrible, I know. And even asleep, Mother knows. But if we do nothing her mana will be drained beyond what she can ever heal.”

“I’m afraid, Saibh. I always have been.”

“My darling, you are much braver than you know. And we will do this together, you are not alone.”

“You promise?”

“Only if you promise not to falter when the time comes.”

“I…I promise.”

“Then we shall be together until the very end.”

 

I was standing at Danielle’s side in the center of the Mother Stones. I don’t remember moving there. Wings of burning light flowed out behind as I stared at the Queen and her small army of surrounding fae. I heard Danielle cry a whisper of relief and pain, “Jordan.”

All I could feel was rage. To the Queen I shouted, “You will release her. Now!”

Fionnabhair laughed. “You dare make demands?”

“Don’t test me!”

The Queen’s laugh fell away, revealing an anger equal to my own. “Test you? Like you have tested us? This place stands bound to your energies, ripped from its proper place from the heart of Mother’s dream! Has Heaven declared war upon our realm?”

Wait, what?

“Do not pretend you have no notion of what you have done, little one. Our vassals who reside here are full and bloated with the power from your Source. They no longer hear or feel our command! Such impertinence must be purged!”

The crowd murmured with its own rising anger. Around where Zap and the others still stood a gap opened up, as eyes of hatred turned their way. Uh oh.

From elsewhere, Duke Perun called out to the Queen. “Your Majesty, are we to go to war against the Host? Is that wise?” The throng hesitated, and all looked back to their queen.

Fionnabhair replied with confidence. “Worry not, Warleader! For these are not of the Host. That one,” she said as she pointed towards Tsáyidiel, “is Fallen. Likely deluded with false promises from the other who we know could never be a member of their Host. For Aradia, as she has claimed to be, is a sibling to the Nephelim, who are an anathema and abomination to Heaven!”

Zap’s voice rose above the throng. “You invited us freely to your revelries, Queen Fionnabhair! Is this how you treat your guests? Are the fae forsworn to hospitality?”

This again gave the crowd pause for there are rules that are never to be broken, yet their queen replied quickly to the charge.

“Your invitation was to the Ball within the keep, Lord of Sand! And lo - you are no longer within its walls. And what care we of such a lord who’s kingdom turned to dust and was buried millennia ago?” Sweeping an arm over her gathered vassals, she shouted, “Tear them down, mighty warriors! Gain glory in mayhem this day, may it serve as a reminder to our lost priestess what happens to those who defy the fae!”

As the crowd of fur, teeth, and sharp implements surged forward towards me and the others, Zap touched the Eye upon his chest. Sunlight burst outward, blinding all those near him. That spear of light appeared in his hand, and as he hurled fae out of his way with blazing strength he also threw an answer to the Queen. “Speak not of sand, Queen of a broken realm! My monuments and legacy still stand proud on primal earth! How well do they recall your name and deeds?”

He forged a path of destruction to get to me, his spear lancing limbs and bodies into horrible pieces as he went. Khan growled and slashed with razor claws at any who tried to attack the god from behind. Many fae went down covered in their own blood from underestimating the tiger’s speed and fury.

“Release!” A voice shouted from the sidelines, and a cascade of mystic and glowing arrows launched into the air, all of which were aimed expertly at me.

“I don’t think so,” I yelled back, and with an instinctive word threw wide a barrier of light to surround not just me and Danielle but the entire platform within the Temple. The spell-forged arrows incinerated themselves on impact, as the focus of the barrier was to both overload the patterns of their workings and also channel away the disrupted mystical energy at the same time. The first line of sword-wielding red-clad warriors saw this and charged across directly, but as they touched the light they screamed and fell back, smoke rising from blisters covering their skin. Honestly that was a bit of a surprise but I had a sudden intuition: the light would burn anything it didn’t consider ‘pure’. I suspected it was somehow more of the judge of that sort of thing than I was, but in either case those who had followed behind their now-steaming comrades were wary enough to not test it themselves. To encourage such thinking I shouted, “Only those with holy intent may cross!”

Tsáyidiel, his panther-self having taken to the air above the trees with fresh raven wings, called out to me. “My lady, grant thy strength!” Other flying fae - both tiny and huge - were hot in pursuit.

Grabbing at the internal connection I felt with my Hunter, I unleashed raw energy down the circuit. The results were impressive.

Where a winged panther had been a moment prior, an armored four-winged gryphon the size of a front-line battle tank now flew. Tsáyidiel’s raven beak let loose a roar of such power it knocked most of those chasing him right out of the sky. Archers turned their arrows towards him instead, and wings clad in white and gold armor formed a shell around the beast. The missiles simply bounced off.

“Behold!” Tsáyidiel shouted joyfully above the fray. “Once long ago I partook of your Wild Hunt. Now, fae-lings, let me return the favor and remind you what it means to be the prey of the Lord’s Hunter!” With a cry of frenzied glee, he threw himself from the air into the middle of the largest pack of soldiers, wings and teeth tossing them aside faster than eyes could track with a savage grace.

But the Queen was not dismayed and rallied her troops. “Form up! Bind the Kerubim! Sorcerers, tear down that barrier!” Through the portal medieval engines of war were pushed forward: large ballistas with huge chains coiled upon them, the links on the chains engraved with mystic symbols.

Crazy shimmering streams of power slammed into my barrier pulling attention away from the portal. They were trying to overload me instead of the other way around. Pushing back against them caused everything to spin, the symbols of their magic flowing across my sight. As I poured forth more light to counter with raw strength and unravel their elegance by brute force alone, I thought I saw a different way.

Each casting they threw was filled with the energy of this realm, and their Queen controlled that flow. As Zap and Khan fought their way into the protective circle around the temple, I tried to touch the lines threading through the fabric of the realm itself.

This gave the realization of two things. First was that Fionnabhair had been right: when I restored the Temple and the forests in this area I had shifted its own source from the realm’s dream to, in essence, a dream of my own. I hadn’t meant for that to happen, but as usual I had performed something without any real idea of what the fuck I was doing. But the result was that I had control of the land around the temple, not the Queen. Stories of fae royalty directing the terrain itself to rise up and smite their foes flashed through my mind. They were in the books on Circe’s assigned reading list for her class.

I’d read ahead.

Second was that I might have an idea on how to free Danielle from the magic ropes holding her down. It was dangerous, really dangerous, but could work.

Putting the initial notion into practice, I formed an image in my mind before gesturing with power and will at the lakeshore. Symbols much like what I had seen in Nick’s scrolls flew from fingertips to carry my intentions, and the ground shook in response. Sharp and craggy stones burst from the wetland to impale soldiers where they stood while trees extended their branches, entangling and skewering those unfortunate enough to be within reach.

Zap was standing at my side and shouting at me. I hadn’t been listening and gave him a blank stare. He repeated himself and this time I heard.

“How long can you maintain this?” He was pointing at the barrier and the range of magical assault that was being levied against it.

“As long as I need to!” I growled back, my rage at the Queen sustaining my will. But he was right to ask, she had pure numbers and more were rushing through that portal every minute.

“Confidence only gets one so far!” With a thrust of his spear a blast of power lanced outward at two huge trolls who were busy trying to pound through Tsáyidiel’s wings with their fists. The trolls went up in white flames, staggering backwards, allowing Tsáyidiel to leap forward and rip at one’s throat with his beak. A pillar of wet scarlet rushed out of the wound. It was a terrible sight of blood mixed with cooking flesh.

A synchronized assault from the elven sorcerers almost blasted through my shield, to be prevented only by a line of golden Egyptian hieroglyphics swirling along the outside deflecting enough away from the spots that had fallen weak from my inattention.

“Maintain the anchor points and don’t get distracted!” Zap yelled before turning to evaluate the battlefield. He focused his sight on the Queen as she stood at the top of the small rise before the portal. “Hold here!” Spinning the spear of light in front of him, he took three huge steps towards the edge of the circle before leaping high into the air, somersaulting over the stones only to crash right into the middle of the spellcasters where that spear flashed wildly about slicing many of them down. Those floating golden Egyptian symbols spiraled in and formed their own moving sphere which granted protection from the survivor’s instant energetic counter-attack. With a mighty shout he slammed the end of that electric spear into the ground, causing it to disappear and its energy explode outward. All foes within twenty-feet were instantly knocked backwards onto their asses. They steamed where they fell.

“Queen Fionnabhair!” he called out as the spear reformed in his grip. “How many of your people shall fall to my blade before we settle this?” A being of mythic might with the head of a hawk and a right eye filled with the flames of its own burning sun stood proudly within that circle of fallen foes. All traces of Zap had been washed away by the power, and Heru - a god of magic and of war - now shouted defiantly at the Queen.

At her side Gwydion unslung the sword on his back, intending to meet the threat of a rival god. But Fionnabhair pushed him aside, face contorting with fury as she stepped forward. “Come then, godling! If you believe you still have the power to challenge me, then let us measure the depths of your folly!” Her dress rippled with each step, shifting a dark brown and becoming coarse as it grew over her arms and her neck until it formed a second skin of solid bark. All that remained of her fair and light complexion were twin orbs of pale ice glaring towards the rival sun deity.

Giving the piercing cry of a hunting bird of prey, the god bounded up the hill towards her as blue and silver wings burst from his back to carry him over the heads of her warriors and out of the reach of their sharp implements of death. Spinning in the air he held his spear out point first, becoming a burning missile of sunfire to slam into the hastily cast tree-growth that sprouted outward from her hands into a primitive shield of thick interwoven branches. The ground shook with the force of the impact but the Queen’s feet had sunk into the earth and taken root, and with her own cry of exertion she slung the fiery missile around and past her, even as shards of flaming wood exploded from the collision upon her shield. Heru crashed into the ground off to her side but rolled with it to leap again to his feet.

The Queen’s barkskin hands were broken and scorched yet the wood was already regrowing. Heru had a number of cuts from the brambles, but instead of blood they leaked raw sunfire. The hawk-god shrieked a joyous sound of battle and readied himself for another strike at the Queen.

That’s when I felt them. All the little fae who had danced and sang at the restoration of the temple and their forest.

“For Aradia!” Shining with all the light I had given them, they charged from the trees at our attackers. Even Bristlebeak, who held a small stick as if it was the mightiest of spears. With branches, fists, tiny hammers, antlers and fangs, they assaulted our foes. They were wild and beautiful and earnest, but they weren’t warriors. Not like the army of sidhe Fionnabhair commanded.

Their brave attack, while at first a surprise for fae mesmerized by the duel between their queen and the invading god, was swiftly met with a brutal response by those far better trained for combat. I shouted for them to stop, to fall back, but they weren’t listening. The hawk-god also paused, spinning forth more Egyptian glyphs to dart across the battlefield to try and shield the little ones. But there were far too many for his magic to reach in time as the mix of weapons and battle spells fell upon them all. They were connected to me and I felt their pains one after the other, felt the wet and bloody impacts on their skins as they fell, many never to rise again. My mind and senses filled with their cries of agony and the horrible silence of their deaths.

“No!” Through tears I examined the ropes binding Danielle, searching for a way to stop the slaughter which had become all too painfully real. If we could just get her free, maybe we could flee and thus remove the cause of the fighting. The sigil-marked ropes spelled out exactly what they were: manifestations of the energetic arteries that lay at the heart of the realm.

Taking hold of a loop of her prison in a fist, I gripped that heart with my will. To my inner sight it shifted and took the form of a thick novel, filled with page after page of elegant script. The story of the dream of this place lay within my grasp: its words, its meaning, its entire tale since the first moment the Mother had dreamed it into being. And caught within those pages, like a bookmark affixed with glue, was Danielle’s spirit.

Desperate with the sensations of the continuing carnage all around and furious at my niece once again being chained against her will, I ripped one of those pages right out of its binding.

The army of fae - all of those who were not tied to me - staggered and wailed with horror, most falling to their knees in sudden agony. Just as I was tied now to all of those who fought in my name, so too were all the other fae bound to the heart of this realm. Without meaning to, I had my hand metaphorically at each and every one of their throats. Even their Queen gasped in pain, moaning loudly enough for me to hear. “What have you done?”

Opening burning eyes to stare at her, I kept my hand firmly on that rope and the book it represented. “Danielle goes free or this place shall be naught but memory!”

Duke Perun, limping from a collision with Tsáyidiel, cried out. “Your Majesty, the realm!”

To emphasize the point I took hold of another page, and while they watched slowly tore it away. More fae collapsed around us, some clutching at their chests in horrible pain.

“Wait! Stop!” Fionnabhair, those icy eyes wide with terror as her subjects fell.

“Say it! She goes free!”

Tsáyidiel regarded the scene impassively, sitting upon the field of battle to hulk over those around him. Zap, with a face once again human, had an expression of rising dismay. “Aradia,” he asked in horror, “What are you doing?”

Through gritted teeth I said angrily, “I’m ending this.”

The Queen protested, her voice shrill. “She is my sister and betrayed her people! You have no right to interfere!”

Betrayed? Like hell! “Siabh died trying to save her people! Before the Mother became so barren she’d be unable to trickle anything even to her dreams! I make claim, Queen Fionnabhair, that this one here is blood of my blood, heart of my heart. Danielle goes free, or else I shred every fiber of magic that you’ve bonded her to.”

A field of uncertain pain-rimmed eyes all turned to the stammering Queen. “You…you’d kill us…each and every one of us…”

“I warned you not to test me. Now choose!” In that other space I took hold of another page.

Bark-rimmed eyes widened and the Queen lowered her head. “So be it.” With a gesture and phrase the ropes around Danielle fell slack, releasing her spirit from being bound to this place and realm.

I, however, did not let go of the words held firmly in my grasp.

“Swear it, Queen Fionnabhair! Swear that she is free to go, unharmed, and untroubled by you and yours! You will let her live in peace!”

With a tightly clenched knotty fist, the Queen acquiesced. “I so swear! Binding to me and all my vassals!”

The fae army still on their feet went silent with shock, which made the low moans of the wounded all the more audible. As they all stared at me in that painful silence, I had a thought. “Erica Lain, where are you?”

From the edge of the trees hiding behind a large rock, Erica slowly stood up. “Uh, yes?”

I pointed to her. “She goes with us too. Release her from your service, and take no reprisals on her or her loved ones.”

“You demand too much!” Fionnabhair protested.

“Do I? Or shall I continue ripping this place to its foundations and beyond?”

“Fine!” The Queen threw her hands up in frustration. “She is released from service to me and my House, free to leave with no future reprisals from us. Good riddance! Any other crazy demands, angel?”

Erica gaped at me. Yeah, I surprised myself with that one too.

Looking around the wreckage of the battlefield my eyes fell to all of those surrounded by Zap’s little shields of power. “Yes. Those now bound to my energy are also free to leave with me. I won’t abandon them to your mercies.”

Fionnabhair looked like she was about to have a stroke. “You cannot be serious.”

“What option do I have? I did not intend for them to become mine, but what’s done is done. Can you rebind them with how they are now?”

She stared at a nearby glowing deer - one holding a bloody sword-hilt between its teeth - and shook her head ruefully. “No, not if they were to resist my call.”

“Then let them make their own choices. Stay and be rebound or follow me.”

“On one condition,” the Queen countered. “Restore the damage you have done to our realm! And do so without binding the entire place to you in the process, otherwise none of this has any meaning. It will unravel if you leave it in this state!”

Zap gave me an angry glare from where he stood, wings folded upon his back. He was obviously extremely upset. “Please tell me you know how to do that. Did you memorize the full pattern before you so angrily ripped it to pieces?”

“Uh…” I totally hadn’t. And the entire book of the dream began to crumble between my spiritual fingers.

Oh shit.

Light's Promise (Part 5 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 17 - Song

It wasn’t working.

Trying to infuse the book with more energy just caused the pages to flake more quickly and fall away. The hills surrounding the lake rumbled and cracked, colorless fractal lines spreading outward.

The fae panicked. Their Queen shouted orders which only some heeded.

“Form up! We need to get a portal open to the nearest dream. Target Alfeim!”

Gwydion, still holding his two-handed blade, argued with her. “Without an anchor waiting on the other end, we could miss and open to the void. And not all of our people will survive such a transfer!”

“If you have a better idea Gwydion, say it now! We won’t all fit on the cursed angel’s island temple, and likely if she leaves it too will fall!”

Zap put hands over mine as they clutched at the strands of the mystical rope, even as the ends frayed into glittering dust.

“What do I do?” I cried to him.

He closed his right eye, covering the burning sun that lay within and opened his left, revealing an orb of the moon shining as a waxing crescent. Lifting our hands, he examined the threads with the lunar light. But he shook his head with somber dread. “This is not your story, nor is it mine. This is Gaia’s tale and her dream. A tale with only a beginning and an end cannot stand, you’ve ripped out the structure that ties the two together. Either you bind them all to you, drafting them into your story and source as you did when reforging this temple, or we take your niece and flee.”

Danielle managed to get to her feet. “What’s happening?”

Zap answered bluntly. “Aradia has caused the collapse of this realm.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Tears of guilt welled at the corners of my eyes, but crying wasn’t going to help anything. Dammit!

“How do we fix it?” Danielle looked between us both.

“They cannot.” Queen Fionnabhair approached, shedding the bark from her skin as she did. Zap tensed, preparing to continue their duel, but the queen raised her hands. “There is no time for fighting, Lord Heru. For you are right, either this angel binds us to her energy to support them all, or a miracle of a different kind is needed.” Her anger roared within her, yet she spoke with the forced calm of a queen keeping it together. “I have no wish to be a slave of Heaven, but if it will save them that is a price I will pay. However if you would allow, there is another possibility.”

Zap inclined his head, letting the Queen step closer and join her hand atop ours. “Your energy will burn me, angel,” she said, “but perhaps it would allow me to slow the dissolution and give us time to create safe passage elsewhere.”

Gwydion, hearing this from where he stood at the edge of the temple stones, immediately shouted his protest. “My Queen! It would destroy you! You cannot take this burden, let me!”

“No, my knight, the burden is mine. As it was upon my seven brothers before me, and would have been Siabh’s should she not haven taken her priestess vows.”

“Siabh,” Danielle murmured. “That’s who I was…”

“Yes, child.” Fionnabhair sighed wearily. “And who I hoped you could be again. Fate, it seems, has decided instead upon this cruel tragedy.” In the distance, an entire mountain shook and collapsed into awaiting darkness. The surrounding fae screamed in panic, some huddling together, others yelling at the sorcerers who were chanting at the blue portal desperately trying to send it outward to any distant place of refuge.

“Could she…could Siabh have saved this place?” Danielle asked, looking to the Queen. The resemblance between them was striking, they shared the same icy eyes filled with the same growing sorrow.

“Aye, but only if Mother answered her call. And no matter how hard I pushed to awaken my sister within you, nothing succeeded. She is gone.” Fionnabhair said the last quietly.

“No, she isn’t,” Danielle said. “I resisted and fought back each time. I’m stubborn to a fault. Just like my uncle.” Shooting me a meaningful look, Danielle placed her hand atop the growing pile of fingers all wrapped around the fading threads of the realm’s story. “Fill me with your power, Jordan.”

I trembled at the thought. “If you wake her up, I could lose you! I can’t!”

“Yes you can,” Danielle said firmly. “They’re my people. I’ve felt and known that since I woke up while wandering among the broken stones. If I did nothing when I had a chance to save them, how could I live with myself? Could you?”

She was right. I couldn’t. I nodded to Danielle, and both Heru and the Queen took a step back from us. Khan nudged my side with his tiger muzzle, did the same to Danielle, and also moved a few feet away.

“Do it,” Danielle said, her cheeks having gone as pale as the freshest of snow. “Before I chicken out.”

I reached within for the heights of the tower of light and beamed all I could into Danielle. Her scream echoed across the realm, resolving into a singular name.

“SIABH!”

 

The high priestess chanted within the towering circle of Mother Stones, searching deep in the Earth to find the connections that bound all magic, and all entities forged from that magic. The circle sat on the edge of a plateau overlooking a plain darkened by a mighty storm unleashing torrential rain and ear-crushing thunder on all below.

Within the shadows of the storm flashes of fire could be seen and echoes of the screams of war reached the circle above. Two armies fought bitterly, arrows and spears, swords and spells, all clashing as blood spilled upon raw reddened earth.

They were too busy fighting to notice the tremendous wall of churning water rushing towards them, its white peaks touching the sky.

“Hurry, Siabh! There isn’t much time!” Aradia’s blindfold had become shredded rags, revealing scorched eyes leaking blood as tears down her cheeks. Wings matching the shade of that blood descended swiftly from out of the storm, their owner landing behind her.

“Aradia, you must come. Now.” The armored angel’s voice cut through the wreckage of sound thickening the air.

“She’s not done yet!”

“There can be no delay. The Grigori’s corruption must be bound before he is desperate enough to unleash it, and your uncle’s task must then be fulfilled. The priestess does her part, now we must do ours.”

“But the waters will kill her!” Immovable arms wrapped around the glowing woman as the powerful wings lifted them both above the circle falling away below their feet. “Let go! Stop!”

The concentrating priestess left behind conjured a sphere of bluish-green around her, a barrier against the incoming tidalwave’s fury.

“That won’t be enough!” Aradia struggled against the one carrying her away. “She doesn’t have the power for that unless I help her! Damn you, Camael, put me down!”

Bracer-clad wrists held her tighter, and the warrior’s voice was pained with anguish. “I am sorry. But this must be.”

The tsunami of all tsunamis crashed into the circle, shattering monoliths that had stood upright for thousands of years. In Aradia’s sight the small bubble held against the deluge as Saibh completed the final incantation, sending forth through all the ley lines of the world the sleeping Mother’s command.

Shoulders slumped under a snow-colored robe as the priestess looked up to where she knew Aradia would be watching. Her energy exhausted the bubble imploded and the wintry waters of the flood swept her away.

A final thought reached the daughter of light:

“Aradia, beloved, this is not the end.”

The woman held tight within the angel’s grasp screamed. “No! Siabh!”

 

Someone was singing.

A woman’s voice hummed softly as if slowly pulling a melody from the deepest recesses of her soul.

Fionnabhair gasped as the humming shifted to flowing words filled with the beauty of a language predating the Celts and even the fae. A pure tongue growing in strength as Danielle gave herself over to the spirit within, all youth falling away leaving a countenance much older and haunted by innumerable years of experience and loss.

Siabh’s song reached out to touch the standing stones forming the circle around us, and each rocky edifice began to chime with answering resonance and power.

She sang of the dawning sun, its gentle light brushing tips of velvet petals as they gracefully open to welcome the new day.

She sang of the insects and birds taking flight to dart and swoop over and between lush fields of wild growth seemingly chaotic in their mix yet merging into a greater and harmonious whole.

She sang of the animals of the ancient cycle of predator and prey propelled by the balance between frenzied motion and quiet stillness, of ruthless cunning and strategic patience.

She sang of the glory of spring as life bursts with displays of all possible hues and the world embraces sensuous dances of love, of mating, of life creating life, with that warmth shifting to a heat that ripens all things before the brisk autumn harvest slides into ice-covered wintry days of solitude only to lie still and silent waiting for the moment the circle would begin anew.

She sang of the power of the elements, of the fury of thunderous hailstorms and the unleashed brilliance of the sky’s fire, of unfathomable blue oceans hiding secrets under endless white-capped waves, of explosions of fiery molten rock releasing immense burning pressures upholding the mightiest of peaks.

But mostly she sang of magic, of the energy generated by the swirl of nature and life, with all that potential offered as a sacrament to the Mother, flowing and swaying within the greater tapestry to coalesce and take form into lives of their own. She sang of the stories that gave them shape and will, of epics of wonder and delight, and also of terror and fear. She sang of paradise and nightmares, of light and shadow, and how the Mother’s dreams of each breathes life into beings forged and bound by the tales carried within the imaginations of all who live.

The denizens of the fae from tiniest brownie to mightiest troll joined their voices with her song, the call irresistible. Their sound, filled with immense harmonies and counter-harmonies, rose to a mighty crescendo with a single magnificent chord as they sent their plea through Arcadia’s heart and back to its origin and source, back to a Mother who slept so deeply she had forgotten to dream.

The realm’s heart gave a single quiet beat and all held their breath, hoping, waiting, balanced on a sword’s edge between exultation and despair.

Another weak beat, and then another. The joyous thundering chorus of an entire realm joined the next tremors as they steadied and grew, the pulse sending at first a trickle - then a stream - and then a mighty river pouring through the once-shriveled energetic passages anchoring and sustaining the dream which was Arcadia.

The Mother’s love for her special dream and people had returned.

Beside me Fionnabhair gripped her sister’s fingers tightly. Siabh’s pale eyes shone clear, and within a single lock of her white hair slid a new shade as if a freshly flowered golden-red poppy had emerged to declare its glory in the middle of unending snow. Freeing a hand from our collective pile, Siabh took hold of that small piece of color and smiled.

Her voice came like an echo from long ago. “Sometimes you only need to find the right words.”

“Siabh…” I choked on her name, emotions from the past warring with the present.

“I told you it was not the end,” she said softly. “But some cycles demand sacrifice in order for new life to bloom.”

Before I could respond, her eyes closed and the Queen caught her as she fell. Siabh’s gentle wisdom faded away, leaving only the exhaustion and uncertainty of a young girl.

“Did it work?” Danielle asked hesitantly, startled to be in Fionnabhair’s arms.

I have never before felt such a simultaneous conflict of relief and loss. The Queen’s own sudden flow of tears expressed the same.

~o~O~o~

The aftermath was awkward. There we all were, huddled at the center of the Temple, having gone from trying to kill each other to now standing around wondering what we should all do.

Okay, I was wondering what I should do. The Queen collected herself far more quickly.

“If you wish to restore her spirit to her…mortal life, you’d best do so quickly. Her fate is still tied to humanity’s Wheel, and having become disconnected from its old shell her spirit seeks to find a new one.”

Zap figured it out before I did. “That’s why she was bound to the power lines of this realm. You were keeping her from slipping away. With the strongest anchor you had.”

Fionnabhair nodded and I blurted, “Wait, you didn’t grab her when she was shot?”

That resulted in a look of sheer disdain. “Siabh came to wander at this Temple on her own.”

Oh. Shit.

Putting a strong hand on my shoulder, Zap squeezed it hard to keep me from doing something stupid. You know, like putting toes further past my tonsils.

“Queen Fionnabhair,” he said carefully. “As Aradia provided the power to boost Danielle’s awakening of Siabh, she has, in essence, fulfilled your demand for the restoration of your realm. This Temple and area is again tied to the firmament of Arcadia.”

Anger flashed across the Queen’s face, but it quickly faded into a deep weariness. “So be it. We will not argue. Take our sister’s spirit, take our mortal servant, and take any fae still touched by the angel’s power who wish to follow her. But do not delay, lest we decide the true effort was performed solely by Siabh. Your presence has caused enough damage for one day.”

I might have protested that hey, we weren’t the ones who attacked first, but Zap gave my shoulder another squeeze even more painful than the first. Ow.

Holding his hands out for Danielle, Fionnabhair gently handed her over. Zap closed his eyes in concentration, and Danielle’s body sparkled then flowed into one of the charms dangling from the bracelet on his wrist, some kind of small little jar.

“What did you do?” Holy hell, maybe a better question was not what but how?

“A gift from Anubis for our quest,” he replied calmly. “It will secure her spirit for traveling, but only for so long.”

The Queen, seeing Gwydion standing nearby and trying to get her attention, spoke. “We have matters to attend to. As this is where you arrived, it is a fitting place for your departure.” With that she walked off towards her people. All the fae who had been wounded - but not killed - were again standing, finding themselves healed thanks to the realm’s restoration.

There were still far too many bodies lying lifeless upon the ground. Their lives, and their stories, had been lost forever. The realm and the entire situation suddenly felt real enough for me to feel sick.

“What about me?” Erica asked, having made her way to the Temple from the safety of her rock. “I’m not sure I can walk the same paths you all took to get here.” She gestured towards our wings to make her point.

“Lack of wings is not really an issue, but if you agree I can ferry you as well,” Zap offered, holding out his bracelet. “You are still connected to your body back on Earth; I can see the astral line and follow it to get you there. It may be a safer method for your spirit-self. We are unlikely to travel unnoticed.” He gave me an amused sideways glance and I flushed with embarrassment.

At least he was no longer angry.

“Will it hurt?” Erica asked, looking a bit dubious about being sucked into a charm.

“No. Your spirit will merely, in a way, be asleep.”

Frowning at first, she shrugged. “Guess that works.” Stepping closer she gave me a surprise hug. “Thank you. When you see Tamara, tell her I was a stupid selfish brat. One who was messing with things beyond her comprehension. And while I’m probably still stupid, I am sorry for what I did. I know that for her it’s only been a short time, so also let her know I won’t blame her if she hates me and can’t forgive.”

“I’ll tell her.”

Erica studied me, her expression undecipherable. “I owe you, Aradia. I could have been stuck here until the realm died on its own if not for you. Someday I will repay this debt. I swear it.”

“You don’t have to,” I protested.

“Yes I do.” She turned to Zap and pointed to the charm at his wrist. “Alright, do…whatever it is you do.”

He concentrated and she joined Danielle within the small jar.

“My lady.” Tsáyidiel was beyond the circle, still in his towering gryphon form. Arrayed around him were about six dozen fae creatures including various pixies, brownies, sylphs, an owlbear - and Bristlebeak. “These few wish to join you.” The collection of beings all bowed, in their own fashions, to me.

“Uh, can they travel with us? They don’t all fly but maybe the ones that do can carry enough? Tsáyidiel, in that form you do have a wide back…”

Zap chuckled. “Like I told Erica, walking is not a problem. We can lead them through paths appropriate for feet and not wings. It may take slightly longer, but we should have time.”

“But where can they go? They can’t cross to the physical, right?” What the heck would I do with them?

Tsáyidiel gave a possible answer. “You have a space of ocean, cliffs, and sky. They would be sustained there. Indeed, with an infusion of power you could expand it however you wish and build them a home.”

That confused me. “I thought that place belonged to Gabriel.”

The gryphon tilted his beak. “It responds to you as if you were its originator. Is it not yours?”

Zap interrupted. “Mysteries can be debated later. I agree with Tsáyidiel that it will suffice to sustain the fae folk. We should get moving.”

Seeing the warrior fae reforming their ranks along with the glares Gwydion kept throwing at us, it was hard to argue the point. The sudden landing of a kitten on my shoulder certainly indicated that Khan agreed. Also, this time when he dug in for secure purchase the little sharp claws pierced skin through the fabric of the dress.

Wincing at the tiny perforations, I said to Zap. “Yeah. Get us home.”

With an accompanying gesture, Zap’s sun-filled eye beamed fire and created a passage in the air to spirit paths beyond. “Then let us go.”

Led by the tall gryphon, our crew quickly crossed through Zap’s gate of sun-fire. Bristlebeak paused to give me yet another deep bow, then scampered after the rest of the fae. Shaking my head still bemused about the whole thing, I walked through so Zap could follow and close the gate behind.

There were quite a few more beings on my list than I’d intended, but we had Danielle’s spirit and that’s what mattered. But the Queen’s words had me worried. They implied Danielle really had died from that gunshot, and maybe my own power plus the healers at Doyle had only kept alive her discarded physical shell.

Whatever that could mean, it didn’t sound good.

~o~O~o~

“How many did we lose, Gwydion?”

“More than estimated, Your Majesty, but not as many as we feared. Heru’s arrival was unexpected, but the realm…”

“Is healed, yes. The gambit succeeded.”

“What of the plan? With this we have the means to wait. Considering what we have witnessed, should we pause?”

“Absolutely not! Our people are still chained to mortality. Every day, every hour they remain so are ones spent in slavery while the numbers of we few who escaped dwindle further. We have labored far too long and suffered far too much to put our trust in the ephemeral prophecies of madmen or the capriciousness of the Bene Ha’Elohim!”

“As Your Majesty commands.”

“You’ve received a dispatch. What news from the sorcerer?”

“He sent word that mortal authorities are attempting to trace the source of the manna bomb he deployed in the coastal city. Our operatives have emptied its original warehouse and swept it clean, all constructs are accounted for and secure. He has since disappeared and not responded to further attempts at contact.”

“Hmm. He fulfilled his end of our bargain, and we ours. Very well. And the supplier?”

“His work continues and is on schedule.”

“Good. Proceed as planned, my noble knight. The fair folk will be free, or humanity will pay the ultimate price. Now come, we still have guests to entertain.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Chapter 18 - Return

I’m sure Tsáyidiel and Zap led us all through many wondrous places with amazing sights, but fortunately we weren’t accosted along the way so I honestly didn’t pay much attention. Before I knew it we were walking along a familiar cliff, with an ocean teasing the sand below.

For all the time I’d spent in this dream staring out over the waters or up at the distant city occasionally lurking on top of the puffy clouds, I had never really examined what else lay on the cliffs further inland. Oh sure, I had a vague notion of wild grass in that usually foggy direction, but that was about it.

Imagine my surprise when the guys led me and the random assortment of fae past the grass to a forest bounded by mountains rising like wide fingers trying to clutch the sky. The trees were mostly pine, maple, and oak, the needles and leaves forming a thick ground cover crunching under our feet. I even spotted signs of the presence of deer and other animals scattered about. I may be no woodsman, err woodsperson, but I know what poop looks like.

Zap addressed Bristlebeak and the other fae, asking, “Will these woods do for now?”

With all seriousness the little bundle of twigs sprouting the toucan-like nose huddled with his compatriots, a low murmur of discussion barely audible. Right about when I was getting nervous - after all, where else could I take them if not here? - Bristlebeak approached us. Well, towards me more specifically.

“Aye, and a fine set of trees if I do say so myself. ‘Tis odd, though. This is indeed the lady’s place, for we can feel the recognition and welcome it offers, yet there are subtle differences in the, shall we say, resonances.”

Flummoxed, I pulled in energy. Maybe I could see what the little guy was talking about. Zap shook his head and stopped me. “Not now, Aradia. We have more pressing concerns.” Khan’s tiny meep on my shoulder and head bump against my cheek registered his agreement.

“Oh. Right.” I gestured to the fae. “But what can we tell them?”

Zap pondered, nodded to himself, and spoke to the gathered fae. “The young lady has yet to fully claim her power, her story is just beginning. This place was created by another, and quite possibly left here for her to discover and use.”

Bristlebeak straightened formally. “Then, good sir, we shall endeavor to tend this small garden so that our lady may find it a place of comfort and rest as she grows and comes into her own!”

And here I thought it annoying when the teachers treated me like a child. Yeesh. Still, it was a sweet sentiment. “Thank you, Bristlebeak. Will you all be safe here though?”

Tsáyidiel rumbled deep in his throat. “With your permission, my lady, I can serve as guardian until such time as you have further need of me. Your affairs return you to the physical and at present I have no anchors there.”

I smiled, suddenly feeling a lot better about it. “That sounds like a great idea.” I looked to Zap. “Okay, so how do we get Danielle’s spirit to her? Do I portal us back or what?”

He held up the bracelet, touching the small charm with a finger. “Her room is warded against any spiritual incursions. You must convince the warder to lower them, so I may enter and deliver her spirit directly. Also, the re-bonding of her spirit could be difficult. If they know magics that might help, they should use them. I can convey a spirit, but the boundaries of fate that divide life and death are not my domain. As soon as that is done, I will trace Erica’s thread and do the same for her which will likely be easier. Her body calls loudly for her return, I can hear it.”

Standing there in the non-directional light of this place, the outline of his hawk’s head shimmered over his human-like features. While I wanted to think of him as Zap, after seeing him fight it had gotten harder and harder not to just call him Heru. Clearly the being standing before me now was not really the boy I’d been taking dance lessons with. I mean, he was, but also…he wasn’t. Older, wiser, and just as Siabh’s eyes had been haunted by experience - so were his.

Enough to make a heart ache and want to hold him close to ease such ancient and terrible pains.

“How much will you remember when you wake up?” I asked, resisting the urge as best I could.

He smiled gently. “It will be as it was - a dream. And like all special dreams, it will be as real as we wish it to be.” So saying he leaned in to kiss my forehead. No, I didn’t protest, nor really wanted to.

I focused instead on the doors to the attic’s balcony and the triple circle that lay behind them. Sparking into existence those doors appeared between two nearby trees. The lights in the room could be seen through the glass, young Zap still slept on the bed with a ball of greyish-black fuzz curled tightly against him.

Giving the Khan-kitten on my shoulder a scritch, I whispered, “C’mon buddy. Let’s go home.”

Opening those doors, I stepped through and left the dream-world behind.

~o~O~o~

According to the clock it was just after two a.m. of the night after our departure. Khan immediately woke up to stretch and yawn, only to curl back into his warm spot. Zap, of course, didn’t stir. His spirit was waiting for me to get my side of things done. Noting that I was still wearing the elegant white dress made by the crone seamstresses (which miraculously had not been splattered by anyone’s blood), I quickly kicked off the matching high heels and slipped on some sandals before racing out the door towards Doyle.

Changing clothes would have taken too much time, but I did pause long enough to power down.

I’m sure the kids had seen much stranger things than a random girl running through the night wearing a dress suitable for the prom. Though they might have wondered at her sanity for doing so in the middle of a major hailstorm. Crossing icy frozen lawns to take a more direct route, I lost one of the sandals and kept on going through the sheets of falling frozen stones. Never did find the thing later. Of course running like this really should only be done in a sports bra and not a low-cut dress, which prompted a few choice words to join the journey. Hoping no one was around to look closely, I held my bouncing chest in place as I ran to prevent a complete wardrobe malfunction.

Should I ever learn proper magic, a spell to assist such moments was definitely a priority.

After raising a ruckus at the hospital to force the nurses into making phone calls to people they really didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night, both Charlie and Circe arrived at Danielle’s room. If they were shocked by my muddy bare feet and formal attire they didn’t show it. Instead they remained focused on the given summary of what was needed, namely that Heru required to spiritually get inside Danielle’s room so he could deliver her soul.

They spared no time getting to it, and within a few minutes a pressure I hadn’t noticed fell away from my skin. Weird.

As soon as that feeling dropped a blue and silver hawk swooped right through the walls, talons clutching what was a much larger jar than the little bracelet charm had held. Instead of being metallic, this looked ceramic and was closed with a simple hawk-headed lid. The hawk delivered the container with a loud shriek by simply dropping it straight onto her before gliding on through another wall. The thing slid right into her chest and as it disappeared her all-white hair gained the same touch of golden-red that her spirit had acquired after saving Arcadia.

“A canopic jar,” Circe said. “Quick, restore the wards in case her soul gets pulled away!”

They put their hands on Danielle’s side, chanting to themselves in very different languages. The strange pressure returned, leaving me feeling like it was harder to breath. I mean, it wasn’t really, as I could breathe just fine. It just seemed that way, not that it mattered.

Charlie, his disheveled bed-hair pulled into two messy braids, kept up a stream of words much like a meditative song. He waved a lit stick of sage over Danielle but she didn’t wake up. After a minute of her own spellcraft, Circle took a step back.

“Will she be alright?” I asked, trying not to disturb the medicine man still busy at work.

“Only time will tell,” Circe answered. “The bond of her astral cord was lost. Whether the full thread of her life has also been cut, only Atropos knows.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

A steel gaze turned to me. “I believe you have done quite enough for one day. We will sit with her and call your room should her condition change. Expect a summons to a debriefing in the morning about both your journey - and the item you had delivered to August.”

Wait, what? How did they know about that? Unless…“Something happened, didn’t it.” I didn’t bother making it a question.

“You are fortunate that the child appears to be none the worse for wear, only suffering a temporary loss of consciousness.”

Oh. My stomach fell towards the knees. Between getting my niece shot, blazing the rescue party’s location out into the void, almost destroying a fae realm and causing a lot of them to die, and now this - potentially harming an innocent young student - I had caused far too many fuck-ups. “She’s okay, though?”

“For now. Which is why you have time to rest.”

I sighed wearily with a body feeling as heavy as my heart. “For the record, Jenna is blameless. She just did what I asked her to do.”

Circe waved a dismissive hand. “Save your proclamations of guilt or defense for the morning.”

Echoing Heru’s last kiss to me, I leaned over Danielle’s bed and gave one to the patch of newly vibrant color where it rested against her forehead. The smoke from the sage bundle filled my lungs as I did which left me light-headed but I paused before getting clear of it. “Danielle,” I whispered, “If you can hear me, just know we’re here for you. I love you, sweetie. And I’m so sorry.” Without looking at either Circe or the medicine man, I left the room to go back out into the storm.

The freezing cold and wet outside was exactly what I deserved.

~o~O~o~

Despite the late hour, Mrs. Cantrel was waiting when I got back to Hawthorne.

“Dear me, you’re soaked right to your bones!”

Before I could protest she corralled me with her hover-chair and shoved a thick green towel into my hands. She also spoke a few drying cantrips under her breath as I tried my best to towel off, the dress sticking rather revealingly to my curves. Ugh. I must have given the folks at Doyle quite an eyeful without realizing it. The careful ballroom braids in my hair had also fallen loose from all the running and ice. Yeah, I was a mess.

“I caught Zap on his way out,” Mrs. Cantrel told me. “He left a message for you. ‘Tell Jordan that Erica should be fine’. He looked exhausted and went back to Poe to ‘sleep properly’, as he put it.”

“That’s good.” I felt some relief. One less worry on the pile.

She looked at me curiously. “As I understand it, you were spirit walking to save Danielle, right? So who is Erica?”

“Long story. We found Danielle’s spirit, but she still hasn’t woken up. We also came across Erica Lain, she was stuck in a similar situation as Danielle. We got her out too.”

Cantrel’s expression clouded on hearing the news about Danielle, but raised an eyebrow at the rest. “Erica Lain. Isn’t that the girl behind all the fuss with the demon corruption of another student?”

“Yeah. Her.”

Mrs. Cantrel gave me a long stare before putting curiosity aside. “I know you must also be very tired, but if you think you’re up to it I have to ask. Could you make one detour before going upstairs?”

I whimpered. “Where?” Good grief, what now?

“I believe Evie needs to know you are alright. She took the news of your departure rather hard and locked herself in her room. The newer empathic wards are holding, but they are slowly beginning to show the strain. We’ve tried talking her out but she has only shouted for us to go away. She’s still responsive, so we haven’t forced the door but…”

Ah hell. Not good. “I’ll go and do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

Thinking any further delays could be bad for everyone, I booked it towards Evie’s hallway and skidded to a halt in front of the locked and lurking door.

Knocking gently, I said, “Evie? You in there? It’s Jordan. Can I come in?”

There was a cry echoing my name as the door flew open, and a purple-haired girl pulled me inside.

“You made it!” Evie clung tightly to my chest, ignoring the lingering dampness. “I was worried!”

When she had thrown open the door I had braced myself to throw energy at any dark floating eels that might be in there, but before I could take care of the few that hovered about Evie’s own relief unconsciously sprouted a couple of those luminescent orbs. They zipped directly towards the black oily things and as I watched in stunned silence, obliterated them.

Wow.

She squeezed tighter still. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, hon. I was in a hurry. But I asked Jenna to tell you where I was going and give you a hug from me.”

“It’s not the same.”

Sighing, I maneuvered us over to the bed so I could sit. “I know. And I’m really sorry.” I was careful to not get muddy toes on her comforter.

She finally let go enough to look at me. “You’re all wet. And your hair is a disaster!”

I tried to smile. “I’m a total wreck.”

Looking askance at my disheveled state, she bounced to her dresser and returned with a hair brush. “You don’t want it to dry like that,” she insisted, hopping onto the bed behind where I sat to drag the brush through soggy tangles.

Wincing at the snags, I watched with fascination as a lingering softly-shining orb bobbed slowly about the room. It had no more dark emotional manifestations to chase away.

“What happened? Did you save Danielle?” She tugged harshly at one of the worst knots.

I bit my lip. Sitting here, away from everyone and with the immediate need for action gone, self-control slipped and tears escaped. “Yes and no. We got her spirit back, but I’m afraid she may never wake up. Even after everything that got sacrificed on the journey, it may have been for nothing.” Images of fae soldiers falling and dying flashed past, showing them being burnt alive and having their bodies opened to let loose their crimson rush. So many of the little ones my light had touched had been crushed by trolls into smears of bloody paste and the full impact of their losses slammed home. It wasn’t just a weird dream full of mystic landscape and fantasy. No, it had happened, and it hadn’t been special effects or something one just wakes up from to shrug about before making tea and breakfast.

It had been real. Just like the truth that I was being hunted by something horrible which wanted to kill everyone I cared about. An evil willing to use people like poor Orlando as disposable kleenex. My carelessness had left Danielle standing at Death’s door, and I had made so many other mistakes beyond just that. So many.

“It’s all my fault. I don’t know what to do.” I sniffed, trying to clear a nose flooding with gunk and guilt. “And here I’m supposed to be comforting and helping you and all I can do is cry.”

Hairbrush forgotten, Evie wrapped arms me. “No. It’s not your fault. You taught me that.”

“I should have known better. Going to the lake was stupid. I can’t escape being responsible.”

“Really? Have you ever been hunted before? Or done anything like what you’ve had to do lately?”

In games, I wanted to say. But that’s just it. Those were games. Done for fun, for challenge, for entertainment. Put aside at the end of each session for pizza and laughter before returning to normal life. “Not for real, not like this.”

“Did you do something to cause whoever it is to hunt you?” She asked forcefully.

“No. I think they want me dead just because of who I am and what I might do.”

“Then it isn’t your fault. They’re the assholes, remember?”

Just like Evie’s parents had been. But I had told her it wasn’t her fault because she was a child, she hadn’t known any better. Whereas I …shit. Truthfully I didn’t know any better either. Not really. The so-called experts on our security and hiding out at Whateley hadn’t prohibited us from leaving campus, even they had been caught flat-footed.

Thinking I could go spirit-walk like I was heading down the road to the mall had been incredibly stupid though. If Zap, Tsáyidiel, and even Khan hadn’t been with me, wow, what a bigger mess it would have been. But that’s why I didn’t go alone, right? Plus Tsáyidiel needed me there to have the power to fight properly, so I had to go. After all, only he knew how to find Danielle and her time was running out.

What other choices did I have?

A strange sense of peace and clarity washed over me and a luminous orb peaked out from between my boobs. Evie was holding me close, her eyes clenched tight in concentration. A merciful pause was trying to get me to see everything from a clearer perspective.

“You’re right, Evie,” I said more calmly as tension simply melted away, marveling at her talent. “But while ultimately it’s not my fault, I do bear responsibility for my choices and actions. Some could have been a lot smarter.”

“Then do better next time.”

“I…I’ll try. No, scratch that. I will. I have to. Or more of those I care about will suffer for it.”

“Stop beating yourself up!” She bopped me on the back of the head with the hairbrush to emphasize her point.

“Ow! I’m not!”

“Yes you are! Don’t make me use this again,” she threatened, waving the hairbrush.

“Seriously, it’s just the truth.” I couldn’t help it, I had to giggle at the sight of this little purple-haired girl offering violence with an equally purple implement of tangle-torture. As I did the orb still poking out of my chest flashed brightly and popped, leaving behind a tingling sensation all the way down the fingers and toes. “Oops, I think I just burst your bubble.”

She stared at me and was trying hard not to giggle herself. “That is just silly.”

“I know, but it just popped out that way.”

She groaned and applied the brush to my hair again. “Hold still, you need pun-ishment.”

“Did you just…? Oh it’s on. As soon as I can pun-tificate another one.”

She stuck her tongue out. “That’s awful.”

“I’m full of awe? Why thank you! Also…ow!” The hairbrush struck a bad tangle in the remains of a braid and Evie forced it through anyway.

“See? Told you!”

We managed a few snickers between my exclamations of hair-induced agony and continued tossing horrid puns at each other. Eventually it was clear we were both too tired to continue.

Bidding each other good-night, she did extract a promise from me: if I ever had to go off like that again, I’d come see her first to give her a proper goodbye.

It wasn’t a hard promise to give.

~o~O~o~

The damn phone was ringing again, interrupting what would have otherwise been restful and dreamless sleep. The after-effects of Evie’s glowbulb had tried to grant me that too, but whoever was calling ripped that away.

Goddammitsomuch.

The first rays of the morning sun were teasing the windows through thick but quieter clouds. That meant it had only been maybe three hours since stumbling back to my attic refuge and collapsing onto the cozy and waiting bed. Khan had even moved out of the middle so I could flumph into his warm spot. This had earned him a minute of chin scritching before sweet oblivion had carried me away.

Infernal technology repeated its summons, and with a few unmentionable words I made it to the desk to shut it up.

“What!” The rather unfriendly greetings slipped out before I remembered the administration might be calling to issue a summons to the impending reading of a riot act about August.

“Jordan? Shit, it’s early there again isn’t it.” The audio stuttered, but I recognized the caller immediately. Adrenalin hit the system and they had my full attention.

“Nick! Oh my god, are you alright? I saw the news of the explosion at that temple! They said you went missing at the hospital-”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Look, I don’t have a lot of time to talk.”

“I got your package, what was that thing?”

“I’m glad you’re doing alright too.” What kind of answer was that? With the little I could hear in the background of the spotty connection it sounded like he was in a car. Oh, huh. He must not have been alone. “But listen,” he was saying, “I need you to get a message to Goodman. Tell him that the synagogue is now under guard and they’re excavating the site. Whoever is behind it has some serious clout and money. With the equipment we saw going in, they may intend to raise the entire alcove and its contents out of there intact. Maybe move it to wherever they think they can disable the guardian spells.”

He said ‘we’. Yep, definitely not alone. “Sure, I’ll tell him. But what’s still in there?”

“I’m not sure. Whatever it is, its wards are insane and defeated my initial attempt to crack it. There was an entire third working hiding beneath the second. Caught me by surprise.”

“You were trying to hack the spells on something and you don’t even know what it is?”

“I traced references to that weird script to the synagogue and checked it out pretty thoroughly. I found an abandoned catacomb underneath. A really old spell had kept it all secret so I was curious.”

“So who would know what is in there? Other than those trying to get it, that is.”

He swore, muttering to whoever else was there to drive more carefully. I couldn’t make out their response, but they sounded female.

“What?” he said back into his phone. “Oh. Not sure, but on a long shot see if you can get Goodman to ask Kurohoshi. Goodman will know who that is. The Director will have a much better chance of talking to him than I do, otherwise I would have tried before leaving Israel.”

“I’ll tell him. Anything else?”

“You staying out of trouble?”

I thought of Danielle getting shot by mind-controlled MCO agents, cleansing a fallen angel, sprouting wings, threatening the queen of a fae realm before nearly destroying her domain, and answered, “Of course.”

“Good. Tell Goodman I don’t like the auras of those monitoring the site. They’re tainted.”

Ugh. Sounded like more minions of Azazel. Wonderful. “Will do. You getting somewhere safe, then?”

“Fuck no. If they manage to either disarm the wards or extract it all intact, we need to at least try to track where it goes.”

“Nick, why didn’t you just contact Goodman directly? Why call me?”

“Lost all my stuff except for this sat-phone and my coat. You’re the last person I called, your number is in the redial.”

“Oh.”

“Take care, Jordan. I have to go. I’ll call if the situation changes.” The bugger hung up before I had a chance to say goodbye.

Plonking the receiver back into its cradle, I leaned back in the chair. Clearly whoever Nick was with was not someone he trusted fully, but he also hadn’t asked for help getting him out of there. And whatever he had discovered sounded potentially very important. The only clue we had for the stuff he found was the scroll, which Jenna had given August only to cause the poor girl to pass out.

A proper shower would have to wait. I needed to find out what happened to the magic-language girl before talking to anyone else. Jeans, shoes, and for the hell of it considering how things had been going lately I pulled on a sports bra before the t-shirt.

If my meeting with the administration went really poorly I figured I could out-run them. Worth a shot.

~o~O~o~

Apparently I wasn’t the only one up early, although considering it was now Monday and classes began at eight I shouldn’t have been surprised. At least the rain and hail had stopped, otherwise there would have been a lot of soaked miserable kids grumpier than usual for the start of the school week.

Speaking of grumpy, Mrs. Carson was already in August’s hospital room.

“Ms. Emrys,” she said, hitting me with an imperious gaze as soon as I walked in. August was sitting up in the bed hovering over a breakfast tray. She was still hooked to the weird brain-scan device but otherwise looked awake, and dare I say it, perky.

“Hi Jordan!” August waved a bite of pancakes at me.

“Uh, hi,” I gulped, all ideas of a confidential consult with August having been rapidly defenestrated. “Should I come back later?”

“Not at all,” Mrs. Carson said frostily. “Come in. I believe Ms. Rose also deserves to hear your answers to some questions.”

Oh boy. Inquisition time. I shut the door and moved further into the room. “Yeah, okay.”

“Let's start with how you acquired this scroll she was just telling me about.”

I wanted to ask what happened to August, but nope, the Headmistress’ inquiry was going to be first. Doing my best to not leave anything out, I spilled the beans: Nick’s sending me the scroll, his note, August and her ‘made up’ language matching the writings, and asking Jenna to give it to her. I finished up by saying, “…and I knew there was a chance I might not make it back from the whole dream-walk trip, but thought the scroll could be important. And that honestly, August might be the only one who could read it.”

“I did a lot more than read it,” piped up August. “I think I swallowed it!”

Wait, what? Holy crap!

Mrs. Carson held up a hand to forestall August from saying anything further. The girl shrugged and took another bite of syrupy carbohydrates.

“Do you have any idea,” Mrs. Carson said to me, “how dangerous magical books or scrolls can be?”

“From direct experience?” I said while the mind went crazy trying to understand how a scroll like that could be swallowed and what the heck that might mean. “Uh, no? But Nick must have examined it before sending, and if he thought it was dangerous to read or look at, wouldn’t he have put that in his note? He’s supposed to be an expert on such things-”

“Nicolas Wright,” she said firmly, eyes closing in exasperation. “How much do you know about him?”

“He helped me find and save Danielle from Soren, and he figured out what I am. And he works with government agencies as a subject matter expert on magic.”

“Not on magic. Demonology and otherworld powers. His expertise is on deities and demons.”

“Oh. But then he’d probably know even more about old books and such things.” Jesus. Had he known what would happen?

“And has a history of complete recklessness,” Carson added as I was again affixed with a serious glare. “Tell me, did he - or anyone at the DPA - tell you why he was removed from a rather prestigious magical program at Oxford?”

“No. It was just mentioned something had happened.”

“He discussed the art of summoning demonic entities with his girlfriend at the time, a fellow practitioner of the mystic arts. However, she wasn’t prepared or schooled on how to protect one’s mind to such things and as a result of her own experimentations after their conversation she lost her soul.”

I paled. Shit.

“His instinct for what is dangerous or safe is not likely to be trustworthy.”

Just like he had tried to remove the wards on an unknown magical artifact discovered by happenstance inside an old synagogue. Oh man. And he’d sent me the scroll from the one alcove he’d successfully disarmed.

“I didn’t know,” I said quietly. “If I had…” I hung my head, cheeks flush with guilt.

“The fault is partially mine,” Mrs. Carson mused, much to my surprise. “Circe warned us of the danger which would follow your arrival. We thought we would have enough time for you to attend classes and learn these things. But events have moved much more quickly than even we could have anticipated.”

She caught my confused look and gave a tight-lipped smile. “Rabbi Kirov has been trying to get us to understand the scope of what your manifestation could mean. He has spoken eloquently of the tapestry of our reality shifting and pushing things forward at a pace dictated not by our wills but by the destinies writ large in the stars themselves.”

“They’re not in the stars,” said August casually. “They’re in the book.”

Our attentions snapped to the girl, but Mrs. Carson was the one who asked the question. “Book?”

The girl nodded. “The, hmm. The Book of Life. Might be the best term for it. Jordan’s scroll? It was a transcription of a couple specific pages from the book. Cool, huh?”

This time it was Carson who was speechless, so I seized the chance. “August, what happened when you tried to read it?”

“I just remember reading the names. I totally recognized them! And then there were nurses all shouting at me, and Jenna was trying not to freak out. But I remember the words. Also, I can feel it.”

I had to ask. “Feel what?”

“The connection. To the book, like all of it. I haven’t really tried to read more yet, I’m not sure I’m ready. The whole thing triggered all these weird memories, I’m still sorta sifting through them.”

“Memories? Of Tamiel?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I think you were right. I was once her.” She caught Mrs. Carson’s raised eyebrow and added, “The Grigori, Tamiel. That was me, like a long time ago. Jordan recognized the name in my magic notebook, I’d written it in my script. She can read that language too, it’s why she gave me the scroll. And the scroll showed me a ton of that existence, reminding me of who I had been. Kind of hard to argue against, really.”

“Wait.” I had a thought. “Is the book real? Like, could it be manifested here somehow?”

August puzzled over the idea, but shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Well not the way you’re thinking anyway. The world itself is sorta its proper manifestation. Why?”

Looking at both her and Mrs. Carson, I had to stop myself from biting through my lip. By now the poor thing probably had a bruise. “Because there was another item in the catacombs where Nick found the scroll. Its protections are what blew up the synagogue, but he doesn’t know what it is. He called me this morning. Someone is digging up the wreckage and is obviously trying to grab whatever it is. He described the people there as being tainted, and wants me to inform Director Goodman about it.”

“Oh wow,” August said. “If there are more transcribed pages they’d totally be dangerous in the wrong hands. Mess with the Book, you mess with the entire world!”

Mrs. Carson’s expression hardened. “Eliot is likely eating in our cafeteria as we speak. Come, Ms. Emrys. Let’s go disturb the breaking of his fast.”

I nodded. “Sure.” Turning to August, I said, “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry I put you in danger.”

“I’m fine!” August protested. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been trying to convince the nurses and doctors of this ever since Saturday! I just need a new pair of glasses is all.” She grinned and took another bite of the pancakes before we said our goodbyes. They smelled awfully good. I had some hope that maybe I could get something tasty for myself since we were going to the cafeteria anyway.

While waiting for the elevator down the hall to arrive, Mrs. Carson spoke while staring straight ahead at the closed doors. “Don’t think any of this removes the need for disciplinary action, Ms. Emrys. Prophecies or no prophecies, stars aligning or not, your act was still reckless and deserves proper emphasis to encourage self-reflection.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I wondered if I was going to be scrubbing the bathrooms in Hawthorne for the rest of the school year if all of this finally got settled. Then again, if things actually did turn out okay? I’d gladly do it.

Cleansing things is something I seem to be good at, after all.

Chapter 19 - Books

Director Eliot Goodman was indeed at the cafeteria with Isaiah enjoying a tasty breakfast. With Mrs. Carson glaring at them imperiously, they quickly finished. After bussing their trays, they walked with us back to the administration building.

In other words, I didn’t get the chance to eat anything. Dangit.

Circe and Rabbi Kirov were contacted on the way over, so once again I found myself standing in front of a bunch of seated people waiting for me to report on the latest batch of insane happenings.

I filled them in: the trip to Arcadia, finding Erica, freeing Danielle, and of course, Nick’s phone call. I didn’t describe the memories of Gabriel and Aradia that kept swirling around in my head. Those felt private.

They all found different parts of the story fascinating. It was amusing watching their interest in the various parts wax and wane. Circe was the most focused on Arcadia, Kirov on the encounter with the Kerubim and revelations about August and the scroll, Mrs. Carson on Danielle’s condition, and the Director on the conversation with Nick.

Isaiah though, he had intently focused on the entire telling from start to finish. My friend hardly blinked.

Stealing a line I’d used often after doing software design reviews - you know, from a lifetime which was now all too far away - I ended the data dump by saying, “Thoughts, questions, comments, criticisms?”

Isaiah spoke first, more to himself than to the rest of us. “The faerie queen is quite clever.”

“What?” I asked, baffled. After all that, this was his comment?

He waved a hand. “I’ll explain later. It’s not important to the tasks at hand.”

Director Goodman raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”

“Twofold, the second having higher priority. First - the lawsuit against the Academy by Felicia Lain. If her daughter has indeed woken up and is willing to describe what actually happened at the airport, we can petition the judge to dismiss the case. It also adds further weight to the clearing of Jenna Beltran and Brendan Rogers for their actions against the corrupted MCO agents.”

I knew it! Erica was indeed Mrs. Carson’s ‘other student’, and the whole case Isaiah had been recruited for as Whateley’s attorney must have been this lawsuit. Holy shit, Erica’s mom was trying to sue the school? Wow.

Isaiah continued. “Second - the situation in Aleppo regarding this hidden mystical object of Mr. Wright’s. If the entity that has been trying to kill Jordan is after that object, then it is clearly in our interest to prevent them from its acquisition. It would also help to get as much intelligence on what that object could be. Mr. Wright’s suggestion to contact Kurohoshi is an interesting one, but that would take time. Kurohoshi prefers all discussions in person, as I understand it.”

What the heck? Isaiah knows who Kurohoshi is? Though the name did seem familiar.

Goodman pulled on his obviously-in-law-enforcement mustache. “I can speak with Director Smith. He might find a way to contact Kurohoshi, even if through outside contacts. We’ve heard of his exploits at the DPA, but haven’t crossed paths.”

Curiosity got the better of me so I piped up. “Who is he anyway?”

Both Isaiah and Goodman started speaking at once, but Isaiah waved the Director to go ahead and he did.

“Kami Kurohoshi is a highly decorated Captain who earned the Green Beret. After leaving the service he became something of an underworld information broker and negotiator. From what little I know, his father’s family has been traditionally Yakuza in Japan. As Kami is only half Japanese by blood, he was not allowed to take a seat at that table.”

Isaiah added, “He’s someone the Syndicate and rival criminal organizations call in when their own conflicts get too heated. Generally either a compromise is worked out, or the leading violent instigators on both sides cease breathing. Needless to say, he is not a person to invoke attention from without a damned good reason. His connection to mystical artifacts and their lore, however, I will admit is beyond me.”

Mrs. Carson spoke up. “I believe we here at Whateley have the answer to that. According to his daughter, the man is a powerful avatar.”

“Oh shit!” I blurted as my memory finally clicked. “Haruko!”

With a smile Mrs. Carson nodded. “Yes. Danielle’s roommate is Haruko Kurohoshi, Kami’s daughter.”

“Think she could give us his phone number?” I asked.

Goodman pondered. “He most likely would not agree to speak to a government official. But if we’re lucky he might be willing to speak to a classmate of his daughter.”

Isaiah’s eyes narrowed. “He will demand a price in information, specifically he’ll want to know Jordan’s complete story. Count on it.”

Still looking thoughtful, Goodman said, “Perhaps part of the condition could be him holding that information secret. For a timed delay of say five to ten years minimum. He might agree.”

“You want me to tell him what’s been going on and trust him?” I asked, rather baffled by the idea. “What about all the secrecy…” After all the lectures on not telling people stuff, this made no sense. I mean sure, Azazel already knew where I was, but how many other evil things were out there who’d want to snuff out a new angel on Earth? Or use her for their own infernal ends?

But Isaiah was now nodding his head too. “He’ll find out eventually if the rumors about his informational organization are true. Plus if he talks to his daughter, she’ll likely tell him about meeting her sidhe roommate and then about the sidhe’s angel friend. If she’s anything like her father, she most likely has already compiled complete dossiers. His interest will be piqued, and he’ll follow up. Use the information now while it is still valuable and lock him into confidentiality. His honor, according to all sources, is paramount. If he is truly interested in mystical information, as Nick’s suggestion indicates, this should be very hard for him to pass up.”

The way they were all nodding to each other in agreement was disconcerting. And while he hadn’t said anything at all, I didn’t like the momentary nervous look of guilt on Rabbi Kirov’s face regarding the discussion of secrecy. If I hadn’t already been paying attention to their expressions out of amusement from earlier I likely would have missed it, but it was there. Dammit, the man told something to someone. Question was, to who and what?

Goodman spoke. “If this object is dangerous to the world we need to move quickly. Mrs. Carson, I hate to presume, but could Haruko be spared time from her classes to talk this over with Jordan? Time may be important. I’ll go brief Intelligence Director Smith and see if he can offer any insights as well.”

“As much as I hate interrupting a student’s day, when she is out of her current class I’ll have her report here. Jordan,” she said as her attention shifted to me, “I suggest you hurry back to Hawthorne, shower, and return wearing your uniform.”

I looked down at my t-shirt. “Oh, for the psychological factor when talking to this Kami guy?”

“There is that. But it also is a school day, and you are still enrolled here as a student and thus ought to be properly dressed for class.”

Oh. Whoops. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll hurry.” With a nod to everyone, I took off to run back to my cottage.

See? The sports-bra was the right choice!

~o~O~o~

Haruko was dubious. She had joined me and Mrs. Carson in the conference room after coming straight over once her magic class had finished. Isaiah had tried to stay, but Carson shooed him out, something about not risking having two alpha males getting competitive. This, of course, left my ego confused as to whether I should be insulted or not. Then again, hard to be considered an alpha male while wearing a school-girl’s skirt, slip, and stockings.

“Convince me,” Haruko said once the room was clear, her expression going hard and focused. ”Dad says to only call if it’s an emergency.”

I looked to Mrs. Carson for help. The headmistress met Haruko’s stern expression with one of her own. “We would not be asking if it was not important. Given the potential of the lesser artifact recovered, knowledge of the main treasure is paramount. It could make the difference between strike teams being deployed or not.”

“You’re talking about war?” Haruko raised an eyebrow. Holy shit, even I hadn’t thought that far. This was Indiana Jones level of craziness. Oh hell, if the main treasure actually turned out to be the Ark of the Covenant I’d give up. My life would have gotten way too surreal.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Mrs. Carson said. “Your father may have insights into the proper level of reaction the situation requires.”

Haruko considered and asked me, “Could it help Danielle? You said she’s still unconscious.”

I grimaced. “I don’t know. As much as I’d like to say maybe, thing is I really have no clue. And with how people are treating things, I don’t want to lie or mislead. I’ve already screwed up by not taking things seriously enough.”

Crossing her arms, Haruko ran a palm over a sleeve, adjusting the fabric to lie smoothly over more than just her arm. “Alright,” she said after we’d let her think for a moment. “I’ll do it. But just me and Jordan.” She gave Mrs. Carson a challenging look. “If Jordan is the one bargaining with Dad for information then she gets to choose who to share what she learns with.”

“Very well. You can use the conference room’s setup. We’ll be waiting outside.” With that Carson exited, making sure the door closed firmly behind her.

Haruko quickly signed in and launched the video conference application.

“Any tips on how to deal with your dad before we do this?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said while she typed. “Don’t be stupid.”

Great. Guess I’ll have to fake it and pray.

The upper torso of a Japanese man dressed in an immaculate business jacket and tie filled the wall-screen. He saw Haruko, immediately bowed, and said, “Nice to see you again, Kurohoshi Haruko.”

She bowed and replied, “Nice to see you, Yamamoto Ryoga.”

It took me a moment, but whoa, they were speaking Japanese and I understood them. That was kinda neat.

“Do you have a message for your father?”

“I need to speak with him, Ryoga-san.”

The guy gave a slight frown. “The Oyabun is not available. I will gladly take a message.”

“Yamamoto Ryoga! This is not a request but a command! I will speak with him. Now!” I couldn’t help it, I jumped back. Haruko’s tone had gone from polite warmth to cracking sharply at the guy like a whip being snapped to drive horses into a panicked stampede.

Flustered, the guy bowed his head once more. “Haruko, he has said to not be disturbed.”

The small girl next to me literally growled. “If you do not want him finding out about your indiscretions in Kyoto last summer, you will go and tell him that his daughter requires his attention!”

All the blood rushed away from his face and his eyes became as wide as saucers. His responding bow was so low it took him off the screen. “Hai! At once!” The audio carried the sound of bare feet scampering off.

“Idiot,” Haruko muttered to herself. “If he thinks Dad doesn’t already know…”

The scuttle of feet returned, and a still pale Ryoga appeared. “He is in the meditation room. A laptop is being brought. Please wait just a moment!”

Haruko growled again with impatience, but not as loudly. “We shall wait.”

More bowing. I’ll admit, if she was aiming all that fierceness at me? Yeah I’d probably do a lot of bowing too. Yipes!

Ryoga looked up momentarily as he reached for a keyboard under the screen on his side. “Transferring you now!” With a click, the image shifted.

A room filled with the implements of martial arts took over. We’re talking spears, poles, axes, bows, swords, pikes, maces, you name it and they hung on or leaned against the walls in proper formations. At the center of the room a man sat lotus style on a mat between the two incense burners placed at his sides. He had on a dark silk kimono adorned with the pattern of many koi fish and had a military bearing to his shoulders and to the shortness of his graying hair. He didn’t look Japanese, not really, but that ancestry could be seen in his features if you looked for them.

His expression brightened upon seeing Haruko. “Haruko-chan! How is my favorite daughter?”

“Daddy!” Haruko squeeled. I blinked, for the scary girl had instantly transformed into a happy schoolgirl.

“Are you alright? And did you threaten Yamamoto? He looked like he was about to faint!”

Haruko pouted. “He wasn’t going to let me talk to you. And it’s important!”

“Mmm…I see. And who is there with you?” The guy shifted his attention to me.

“Daddy? This is Jordan Emrys, she’s a friend of my roommate Danielle.”

I moved further into the video frame and bowed low to him. “Hajimemashite,” I said, meaning formally, ‘nice to meet you’. I hadn’t even thought about it, the words just came out.

He greeted me in return, and I raised up. As our eyes met, his face focused with astonishment and recognition. “You!”

Behind those dark eyes was something I, too, had seen before.

He was shouting at Haruko to guard the door as the past once again claimed my attention. You’d think I’d have gotten used to it, but nope. Still took me by surprise.

 

A massive coliseum stretched its seats upwards into a night sky. The bleachers were filled, not by people but by gods. Pantheons gathered within their own sections, and each area conformed to the style of those who sat within. Towering marble columns demarked the area of the Greek deities, Zeus on his own raised seat at their center idly playing with lightning between his fingers while proud Hera sat nearby sipping ambrosia from a crystal goblet. Monoliths covered with the symbols of Egypt flanked the pyramidal canvas tents giving cover for the deities of Kemet. Ra and Isis, clad in golden bejeweled garments, presided. Norse, Hindu, Fae, Djinn - even dragons - all had gathered and turned their attention to the two figures standing at the arena’s center and their images which had projected high to stand at equal height with the top of the stands.

One was clad in mooncloth robes, the other in a simple blue dress with the same azure silk binding her eyes. The latter was speaking to the crowd.

“I give you Siabh, High Priestess of the Mother.”

With that said the woman took a step back, offering the floor to the priestess who took a moment to gather her thoughts. When she was ready she began by throwing her arms wide.

“Oh gods and goddesses, oh spirits of wisdom and grace, oh strong denizens of the elemental realms, I greet thee! Aradia, daughter of Artemis and Lucifer, has called you all here seeking aid to confront the threat of the Nephelim, and has detailed how it is in your interests to grant it. But that is not why I wish to speak to you. For the spawn of the Grigori are, if defeated, only a temporary cause for concern. Their corruption - with great effort! - can be cleansed, and the agents of Heaven have dedicated themselves to that task. Whether you wish to help in this endeavor or no, that is your choice, oh powers of divinity.

“I speak now instead of the damage done to Mother. She slumbers by necessity for her heart struggles to heal the pain caused by the Sundering. Manna lines wither, dry, and disappear from the landscape and thus the physical world can no longer support our combined presences. Already the weaker of us fade away, unable to maintain their existence. This will only grow worse, unless severe and drastic measures are taken. We must, all of us who are formed by the essences of spirit and not of raw flesh, depart the Mother’s physical domain and allow her time to heal.”

A thousand voices speaking to one another rumbled like thunder.

Siabh held up an elegant hand, waiting for the crowd to quiet. “This need not be permanent! But it will take the turning of an age for Mother to regenerate the reserves she has lost. Lost, need I remind you, due to our mistakes and our follies of the past! The price to be paid has come due. And with the agents of Heaven lending their power, it can be accomplished such that one day Mother shall again bloom with the abundant flowering of essence as she did when the world was new!”

This time the rumble was more an earthquake, as several beings jumped to their feet in protest. Many called out, but it was the growling voice of a mighty dragon that carried the loudest. “The Host of El rendered no aid when we fought at the darkest of hours, how can they be trusted now? They themselves are the cause of the current plague of corruption which threatens all, and you would bargain with them to banish us from Mother?”

Shouts of agreement shook the coliseum, but Siabh patiently raised a hand again to wait for the uproar to die down before answering.

“Yes, this current darkness is of their doing. Those they sent to help humanity have instead twisted their mission to one of dark conquest. But the Archangel Gabriel has agreed to do what is needed. The Nephelim threat shall be eliminated, and a great barrier shall be cast upon our world. No angel nor demon shall again cross into physicality, and any of the Bene Ha’Elohim who refuse to depart shall be bound unto the Wheel of Life, incarnating as nothing more than humans themselves.”

“And we are to share that fate?” One of the most ancient of dragons, with obsidian scales as old as the bones of the world, spoke. “Is this what you propose, Siabh of the Mother, formerly of the House of Elm?”

“Yes, great Drathonix. We should withdraw to the surrounding dreams, and those who remain behind shall likewise be bound upon that Wheel. Furthermore, in such a binding shall their memories be suppressed and locked away lest our knowledge and powers find flaws in the great barrier and bring it down from within before the appointed time.”

Heru, sitting by Ra and Isis, rose to his feet with passionate objection. “And how are we to guide and lead the very peoples and lands we have taken under our care? You ask too much, Siabh!”

“Those who incarnate as humans will manage this instinctively, King Heru!“ Siabh answered. “While memories are put aside, our spirits will hold true. And there are humans who have the capacity to host spirits greater than themselves. Through these our purposes shall continue. They will be our channels to the world, but limited and therefore unable to drain Mother unto her destruction. It is the time of humanity and while we can guide from beyond, they will carry the burden of responsibility for their world.”

Heated discussions broke out amongst the various deities. Anthropomorphic entities argued with elemental beings, and the coliseum trembled from the weight of their words.

The forceful bellowing of the dragon quieted them once more. “Hmmph! What you propose has some merit, but also a glaring flaw. While Gabriel is beloved by all who know her, she serves El. Unless Elohim gives agreement, binding His word to the endeavor, then we cannot trust the Host to not release themselves from the restrictions once they are in place, all the while keeping everyone else out. We must hear it from Him.”

Two figures walked out from the shadows at the edge of the arena to join Siabh and Aradia. An angel, face covered by a dark hooded cloak, carried a tall and wicked scythe as he led a scraggly elderly human clad only in simple linen and sandals.

Many deities leapt to their feet, shouting down to protest that a human had been allowed presence at this symposium of the gods and broken its sanctity. The deluge of voices threatened the foundations of the spiritual space holding them all.

The hooded angel slammed the end of his scythe once upon the ground, a burst of monumental force instantly cutting all sound into total silence, much to the shock of many.

Pushing forward the human, the angel gave a simple command. “Speak.”

The salt-and-pepper bearded man swallowed nervously, his stammering voice somehow filling the silence. “Lords, Ladies, mighty guardians of this world, my name is Enoch. The angel Azrael,” he said, giving a nervous look at the scythe, “has commanded me to speak to you. But I do not know what to say…”

The mightier of the deities present found their voices and again raised them with thunderous voices, and once more the angel slammed his scythe upon the ground to cut away the cacophony into quiet. “Speak.”

Enoch, eyes wide with the surety that his entire existence was likely to be snuffed out within moments, shook his head. “What can I say? I have no words!”

The dragon bellowed once more. “Azrael! What is the meaning of this? Do you jest at our conclave?”

A third time the angel’s scythe pounded the arena, and he commanded the man before him. “If your tongue sits empty, then pray for it to be filled.”

Enoch raised trembling hands towards the sky. “Lord God, grant me guidance, give me your words!” Closing his eyes, he kept repeating his desperate prayer.

This time the arena paused its clamor, for power gathered and all of it focused upon the terrified human. His chanting was interrupted by a squeal of alarm as he slowly lifted off the ground. The gathered divine spirits witnessed the man’s weather-beaten skin begin to glow, the intensity growing so bright that the garments he wore burst into flame even as the flesh underneath remained whole. Indeed the ravishes of time etched into the wrinkles on his skin slowly burned away, leaving his beard a pure and shining white.

Six wings of fire exploded outward from his back as he gave a deafening shout that echoed through the coliseum - and beyond.

“BEHOLD THE METATRON, VOICE OF ELOHIM! HIS WORDS ARE OURS, OUR WORDS ARE HIS, FOR OUR NAME IS IN HIM. WHAT MUST BE, MUST BE. BINDING TO ONE, BINDING TO ALL.”

The suddenly exalted angel opened startled eyes of holy flames, his channeled message delivered from on high. Gabriel took to the air from the sidelines to give comfort to her newfound brother while the crowd broke into a tremendous din of debate and argument.

The obsidian dragon turned an ancient gaze back towards Siabh and snorted a large puff of heavy smoke. “He always was overly dramatic. But that will suffice.”

 

Bare toes sank into cold damp and gritty sand. I was somewhere else, but I didn’t panic. Probably from not yet being mentally coherent.

I was on a tropical beach, complete with green foliage lining berms spotted with bright flowers next to wispy taller grasses. The sun was at my back and cast a fuzzy shadow onto the beach, a hazy image that included wings with their own glow causing the sand underneath to glimmer as if made from frosted glass.

Kami Kurohoshi, the guy from the meditation room, stood wearing the same kimono as he had in the real world. We were in some kind of astral space, and along with that knowledge came the understanding that he had pulled us here.

What did not surprise was the shape of the shadow behind him that covered the entire sand dune. A dragon. More specifically, the dragon from memory.

I spoke its name. “Drathonix.”

Kami nodded slowly. “You remember?”

I answered after a frustrated sigh. “I have fragments. Seeing you just triggered one.”

“Ah. I, too, have only pieces. Although more and more have come cascading in over the past forty-eight hours. You have named me, but not yourself. You look much like two from the past. Which is the truth?”

That confused me until I realized that having wings could muddle his impression. Aradia hadn’t been an angel, but Gabriel with her red-hair was. And as Aradia was Lucifer’s daughter, it made sense she (and I) looked like one of his sisters. That was my current theory, anyway. “Aradia. From what I can tell, I was Aradia.”

“Hmm.” He studied me, gears clearly churning away in his head as he digested the implications.

Deciding to just get to the point, I said, “I’ll tell you everything, but I was instructed to bargain that information in exchange for your aid and knowledge. And also require you to keep it confidential for some amount of time.”

“My aid, or that of Drathonix?” Those dark eyes regarded me coolly.

“I don’t think they know you’re Drathonix. Actually, they think you’re an avatar.” His aura, which was all too clear in this place, showed only one spirit standing there. He was the dragon, no doubt about it, and therefore an incarnate like me, Zap, and August.

“It would be well that they continue to think so. There are many who not only fear but also violently object to non-human souls walking freely among them, hidden in plain sight.”

That made a lot of sense, actually. Shit, wish I had used that story myself.

“So then,” he said. “What is it you think Kami Kurohoshi can do for you?”

“Well, it’s a little complicated…” I told him the story of Nick and the alcoves in Syria, even mentioned the scroll he sent and its connection to the Book of Life. No, I didn’t mention that August had absorbed it. Not yet. Instead I emphasized that we needed to figure out what the other magic-trapped artifact was, and whether it posed a serious risk to the world. You know, in case Azazel got his tainted hands (or whatever he used to grab things) on it.

He listened closely. In fact he reminded me a lot of Isaiah from earlier when I was telling everyone about my journey to the fae, carefully considering every spoken word. Huh, maybe I should get a second gig as a storyteller with how often I had to keep describing things that happened. Either that or get some damn flash cards with everything written on ‘em to hand out. Eventually I concluded the tale, or as much of it as I was willing to give up front.

“Nicolas Wright,” he said, his tone dripping with a fair chunk of disapproval.

“Uh, yeah. He did mention that you likely wouldn’t talk to him.”

“The man is a gambler, and like all gamblers they only sometimes win. And in the long run they mostly lose.”

“That may be, but this sounds a lot bigger than just him, regardless of any opinions of the guy.”

He pondered for a moment. “Walk with me while I think.” He gestured down the beach.

I shrugged and we walked. The sun was at our left and seemed to be slowly rising, though every time I looked over at it somehow it had returned to its starting position right above the horizon. That was weirdly more disconcerting than the whole being yanked here in the first place.

After a few minutes of silent strolling, he finally spoke again. “Your Mr. Wright is seeking items relating to the angelic tongue. And I do not mean Enochian, the sixteenth-century invented nonsense of Mister John Dee.”

“Yeah, we encountered that kind of writing used in a ritual so he was trying to follow up on it. I think he was hoping to understand more of the ritual we saw.” I didn’t know anything about this ‘Enochian’ he mentioned, I’d have to look it up later. Though if it was nonsense like he said, it probably didn’t matter.

“Interesting. I presume details of that ritual are part of your offer in trade.”

“Yep.”

“For my part I can offer information about the scroll and its history. As for the still-hidden item, I can only give educated speculation.”

“Your guess, err ‘speculation’, is likely a lot better than anything we’ve got.”

He smiled at my attempt at a compliment. “Now, as for what course of action to take, until and unless you tell me the rest of your story I can not make specific recommendations. But if I had to guess about you, I would assert your original name in this life was Justin Thorne, and Callas Soren has been a very busy man.”

That stopped me short. “If you already know all that, then what value is there in me saying anything more?” I tried to control the surge of irritation, after all getting angry would fall under the category of being stupid and I was told not to do that.

He faced me, taking a very military stance with arms behind his back. “Everything. The details are everything.” There was no eagerness in his expression, only a complete and total patience. Whatever I chose to do would be fine by him. In other words he was leaving it all up to me.

Shit. No pressure! But could I trust him?

“You were a Green Beret?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

“Why did you leave the military?”

“My true nature awakened under the stresses of combat.”

“Oh.” I’d just seen trolls, a gryphon, and a god make a right slaughter of things, and I remembered just how gigantic Drathonix was in that ancient gathering of spiritual heavy-hitters. The dragon had required his own damn section of the coliseum. Such a power unleashed must have been both impressive and scary as hell.

“Tell me what you are balancing your decision against,” he said. “Expressing such things often makes them clearer. If you are who you claim to be, it is not likely I would take offense to your thoughts.”

I chewed an astral lip. “Just by being who I am, some really nasty entities have tried to kill not only me but those I care for. One is still in a coma as a result and we aren’t sure she’ll wake up. I worry that telling you more would just put them all in further danger.”

“What else?”

My shoulders slumped. “Everyone seems to think that this other item of Nick’s could be really dangerous, maybe to the whole world. But unless we can offer solid intelligence, it would be hard to convince the military or whomever to take action. The DPA only works within the United States itself, it doesn’t do missions overseas. This will take like, I dunno, a Seal team or something.”

“The operational theater in Syria is complicated. Further - and I offer this for free - if I am correct about your situation your enemy has agents entrenched within the military complex and would be tipped off by any U.S. agency moves, no matter how clandestine.”

Fuck. He was probably right. If Azazel had people in the MCO - and could take over who knows how many more - then him having administrative or even combat ready minions within other organizations standing by would make sense. “That makes it so much worse!”

“It does.” He stood patiently.

I threw a prayer out asking for guidance, but nothing answered. The only thing I had was that in the past Drathonix had agreed to help Siabh do what she felt was necessary for the world. And in his own way, he had forced God - err, Elohim - to bind His word to that task as well.

It would have to do. And as it was, the guy already seemed to know way too much anyway.

“Dammit. Let’s walk and I’ll tell you everything.” I turned around to head back the way we came, although the direction probably didn’t matter much here. He joined me and after a deep breath I started at the beginning.

“I was trying to get home after work and traffic was sucking worse than it had ever sucked before…”

~o~O~o~

He listened to it all, only interrupting with requests for clarifications. I got worried about the time, but he reassured me that in the real world the clock had only ticked forward perhaps a minute or two. I had to wonder how often he pulled people to this beach to have lengthy conversations.

And no, I didn’t hold anything back. It was one of those all cards on the table kind of moments, and if you’re going to go in - go in full. Time would have to tell if I, or others I cared about, would come to regret it.

The revelation about Tsáyidiel’s restoration clearly startled him, but he hadn’t commented and only urged me to continue. To provide the corroborating evidence that the scroll Nick sent really was part of the Book of Life, I had to explain about August. Which, of course, meant mentioning about her being Tamiel reborn.

At the end I told him how even though we’d restored Danielle’s spirit, she still wasn’t waking up. He’d been polite and ignored the few moments of tears I’d had throughout the entire tale, but this time he put a hand on my shoulder. His impassive expression shifted to something I wasn’t expecting.

It filled with compassion.

“It is never easy to deal with the loss of family,” he said quietly.

“She’s not gone yet!” I snapped, jerking away. Crossing my arms I said, “I’ve told you all. Your turn. Let’s start with the scroll. What was it?”

His arm lowered and the neutral evaluation returned. “Your August Rose, Tamiel, is correct. Transcribed pages from the Book of Life, albeit very specific ones.”

“How so?”

“We incarnates - like Tamiel, like you, like me - have been hunted throughout the ages by those who believe we should never have polluted the ranks of humanity. Those hunters target primarily incarnate Nephelim, but all of those with non-human spirits can attract their attention.”

“Well that sucks.”

“They once sought holy men to discover a way to find us, and many priests and rabbis died trying to fulfill their request. One finally succeeded. It cost him his mind but he produced that scroll. It lists all of us: who we were and more dangerously, who we are in our current lives. Written in the language of the Host, it updates with the latest patterns.”

“Oh. Oh shit! And these hunters, are they still active?”

“Very much so. They were a factor in the ending of my military career and the start of my current endeavors. They are avatars for Powers who have bent themselves to this end for a very long time.”

I couldn’t help it. I buried my face in my hands. “That’s the last thing I need. A whole new threat.”

“Keep Ms. Rose safe, and the information of what happened secret.”

Ugh, I was going to have to interrogate Rabbi Kirov about that look of guilt before he put her in danger too. “I’ll try.”

“Do better than try. When focused on a task, angels of that particular chorus are without mercy. They are the gladiators of Heaven, front line material. Think of them as the special forces of Heaven.”

“How do you know all that? You must remember a lot more than I do.”

“I have faced them over many lifetimes and the scars on my spirit from those encounters remain. My first recovered memories were of them.”

Ouch. “Okay. Badasses of Heaven, keep August safe. Got it. What about the big mystery thing that’s still in Aleppo?”

His face went sharp and determined. “We go get it. You can’t trust that the Grigori hasn’t infiltrated the Pentagon, so they are not to be told what we’re going to do. Not even those you would trust to render aid.”

“We? Wait, if you’re going to help directly, how dangerous is this thing?”

“The only other artifact of which I am aware written in the true angelic tongue that could have survived the ages is not one we can risk anyone else taking. I have reservations about it even being in my own possession.”

“Wonderful. So what could it be?”

“Something revealed to Adam in the Garden of Eden by the Archangel of Mysteries himself, explaining the deepest secrets of the universe. You were a programmer so think of it as a fully detailed user manual to reality’s operating system, and then ponder what a destructive hacker could do with that kind of information. What is likely hidden in that alcove is nothing less than the Book of Raziel.”

I stared at him. “You serious?” The several tomes from Soren that I’d read thanks to the new speed-reading powers had mentioned it. Feeling sorry for Adam and Eve after they ate the forbidden fruit and got tossed from Paradise, the angel Raziel had given his book to them hoping it could eventually guide them ‘home’. There was even stuff about other angels getting pissed off about mankind even having the thing and then stealing it, with the book being restored to mankind later by God himself. It was supposed to have made its way to Enoch, then Noah, and eventually to King Solomon. You know, the guy who was somehow able to summon and control countless demons and made them build the First Temple in Jerusalem. Where the Ark was kept.

Fuck.

“I am deadly serious,” he said harshly. “I will agree to send my own team to assist with its recovery on one condition.”

The butterflies in my gut knew what that had to be, but I asked anyway. “What?”

“Only you and possibly your Ms. Rose can determine whether any recovered item is genuine, and she should not be risked. You must go with the team.”

“What about you?”

“I will be busy doing something of even greater import.”

Huh? “Like what?” With this kind of reveal, what the heck could he think was more important right now?

Dark eyes met mine, his voice slipping deeper and stronger as if coming from a throat the size of a smokestack.

“Working to uncover the bigger picture behind current events. For we have but scratched the surface of what lies behind this turning of the great wheel.”

With that the dragon kicked me out of his astral-mental space back to Whateley’s conference room where his daughter was waiting. Thing was, he was right. Which meant I had to go do exactly what Haruko had warned against: be stupid. Because it was insane to go charging off to a foreign country into a den of enemies in order to save an artifact that would have remained safe if a certain risk-taking magus hadn’t gone poking about.

I hoped that whenever we found Nick I’d get the opportunity to kick him in the shins.

Chapter 20 - Path

Kurohoshi had me send in Director Goodman and Mrs. Carson to discuss how they were going to get me to Syria, something about the DPA being faster at forging the necessary documents. Which was amusing because they were planning on getting me fake documents to protect the fake identity I was currently using.

Will the real Justin Thorne, Jordan Emrys, or uh, Jennifer Baghdadi please stand up?

I did thank Haruko before she was sent back to class. She told me to go kick ass and to keep my eyes open. Sounded like good advice to me.

That left me and Isaiah standing in the hallway, and I had to explain to him what was about to go down.

“I don’t like it,” he said, crossing arms over his suit jacket and, I kid you not, actual suspenders.

“Well of course you don’t.” I said in an upbeat tone just to annoy him further. “What’s not to like?”

He scowled at me. “It’s too risky. You aren’t trained for such operations.”

“No shit,” I said more seriously. “But what if they pull a ringer? Kurohoshi is right. They need me there to confirm they get the right target.”

“Mr. Wright can do that.”

“Only if one, he’s actually there, and two, he can be trusted with the book if it turns out to be what they fear. What if he tried to swap it for a fake to keep the genuine article for himself?”

“How much do you trust him?”

That question got to me. Did I? Nick finally spoke truth to me a couple weeks ago, and he genuinely was trying to figure out what had happened and, more importantly, why. Yet I still barely knew him and he definitely had a reputation. Kurohoshi thought him careless, and Goodman from what I could tell thought him a loose cannon. Plus the whole matter of girlfriends losing their souls from hanging out with him? Ouch.

I tried to put it into words. “I think he wants to do the right thing. Problem is, from what little I’ve heard about him? He may not be trustworthy to do it in the safest way. Like maybe the kind of person who would be tempted to use an artifact that would be better off being destroyed, you know, a Boromir type.”

Isaiah got the Lord of the Rings reference immediately as I knew he would. Duh, we were gamers.

“And you?” He peered over his spectacles intently.

It was my turn to scowl. “As you well know my characters only used such things when all other choices vanished as part of your dramatics. But real world? Never been tested.”

“Until now.”

I met his eyes. “Yeah. And don’t think for a moment I’m not terrified.”

He awkwardly patted a shoulder. “You should do fine. Just don’t be stupid.”

I couldn’t help it, I had to laugh. “You’re the second person to tell me that today.”

“It’s good advice.” He smiled.

A thought occurred to me. “Hey, what did you mean earlier? About the queen being clever?”

As quickly as it had arrived, the smile disappeared and was replaced again by calculating focus. “She was.”

“How so? I mean, from her perspective she just lost not only her sister but a lot of face in front of her court by me shoving my demands down her throat.”

He shook his head. “What did I just say about not being stupid? Tell me, how would you feel if after thousands of years Helena (and I apologize for using her as an example) suddenly was back, but you were honor bound due to her actions all those millennia ago to put her on trial and execute her?”

My heart wrenched at the mention of my dearly departed sister, Danielle’s mom. “Uh, I’m sure I’d have forgiven her by then and want most of all to reconcile. But I’m not a queen, nor a fae.”

“Exactly. As queen her hands were tied, she had to do her duty to its fullest according to their laws. From the fae’s point of view, the High Priestess, Siabh, banished them from their homes on Earth and locked the rest of their family and relations into unthinkable lives forever. There would be no appealing the required verdict for doing such, unless there was a solid reason for it.”

“Solid reason? Okay, you’ve lost me.”

“Think about it. Only a priestess, especially a High Priestess, could accomplish what you described her doing: restore Arcadia. Danielle was there in their time-line for what, weeks? And the Queen had spent that time trying to wake up Siabh’s memories. I would imagine the ostensible reason for that kind of delay would be to hold a trial where Siabh would have a chance to argue on her own behalf or undo the magic of the past and ask for mercy. Otherwise it could be claimed to have been a false proceeding. But what if it was actually a tactic to give the Queen more time to figure out alternatives? And what should happen then…”

Seeing where he was leading, I said, “Her friends showed up trying to find her. Like an angel who sort of restored the Temple on a whim. Shit.”

“Now carry that thought through. What did the Queen do at that point?”

I paused, rubbing at a soft cheek that would never have whiskers to stroke. “She invited us to her ball, and sent a spy in to talk with me, probably listening to the whole thing herself. Thus she’d know or could figure out who I was.”

“And then what?”

“Holy crap. She dangled Danielle out in front of us. Clearly in distress and visibly bound by a magic which if threatened directly could endanger them all.”

“Now you’re getting it. She baited you, and you bit. Forcefully enough that, according to your telling, she swore that Danielle would be safe from not just her but all her vassals. In front of her court, all in order to save their lives.”

I sank to the floor in the hallway in shock, school skirt spilling around me. “She used us. To save her sister, she used us.” Leaning my back against the wall, I stared up at him. “And she sacrificed some of her own people in that fight to do it.”

“In such a way that none of her own could ever make claim she hadn’t done her duty. Including taking on Heru by herself when called out.”

“That’s…that’s messed up.”

“It worked. She saw the opportunity and she took it. And now Danielle is safe from the vengeance of her people. Like I said, clever.”

“But the whole realm was going to die because I didn’t know how to fix the damage!”

He nodded. “Perhaps she gambled that an angel who could restore the temple would know how to control it otherwise. In that respect she did err.”

“Fuck. She trusted that I was competent.”

“Either that or she had faith in her sister’s spirit. That with Arcadia itself in dire need, Siabh would return to set things right. Which she did because Danielle was willing enough to let go and allow it to happen.”

“This is making my head hurt.”

“Get used to it,” he said firmly. “You were lucky, her goals and yours aligned. They may not the next time.”

Dammit, he was right. Not only did I need to start using my brain more, but also pay closer attention to the motivations and subtleties of others. Which reminded me…

I hopped lightly to my feet. “Think they’ll be busy in there for thirty minutes or so?”

“Possibly. Why?”

“We need to track down Rabbi Kirov. He’s probably in his office considering we’re in the middle of the class period I’m supposed to have independent study with him.”

“You said ‘we’. You need me there?”

“Absolutely. We may need to intimidate him, and as I’m far too cute like this to pull that off, your sullen mug will have to do the job.”

He chuckled. “I think you underestimate how intense you can be. But why would you need to interrogate the rabbi?”

“Because,” I said while ushering him down the hall towards the stairs, “I think the guy leaked information. And before I go stick my neck into a new noose on the other side of the planet I damn well want to know to whom.”

~o~O~o~

The rabbi was indeed in.

Marching into his office, I decided I didn’t have the patience for subtlety so I started off by shouting.

“Rabbi Immanuel Igorov Kirov! Komo vui skazali?!”

Of course, I meant to say ‘who did you tell?’ but it came out in Russian. The reaction was priceless.

Kirov dropped his metal-clad glass teacup, spilling the contents all over the papers on his desk. “Jordan!”

Ignoring Isaiah’s own shock, I continued towards Kirov. Still speaking in Russian, I barked, “I know you talked. Tell us to whom, and what was said!” To Isaiah’s credit, he rapidly ditched his own surprise and moved to my side, giving a good solid glare in support.

“I…I spoke with a good friend! In Tel Aviv!”

Dropping into one of the rabbi’s guest chairs, I folded my fingers together in front of my nose. “Who, exactly?”

“Rabbi Levin! He is a devoted man of god with much knowledge that I lack! But…how did you know? And when did you learn Russian?” Shaking hands grabbed for a pile of napkins to try and dab away the mess.

“Your face betrayed you this morning. What have you told him?” I ignored the second question, mainly because I figured Isaiah would be greatly wondering the same thing and I wanted to enjoy his bafflement for a few more minutes.

“Last night, when we spoke with your friend Jenna about what happened with your scroll, I became curious. Seeing August’s sketchbook, well, I had to find out more!”

“Curiosity could get us killed.”

He shook his head. “I did not inquire for my sake. But when an ancient artifact…merges…with one of our students, how could I not act to discover more about its nature? August herself could have been, and still be, in danger!”

“He has a point,” Isaiah said, taking the rabbi’s side. Hey, he was supposed to be my heavy! “The safety of the girl requires knowledge. However, others should have been consulted before revealing anything off campus!” Ah, there’s the stick.

Kirov slumped in his chair, still clutching the wet napkins. “I did not identify Ms. Rose as the person involved, nor even say they were a student. Only described the scroll and events as told to me. But as it turns out, Rabbi Levin is one of those whom Nicolas consulted before going to Aleppo! He is, naturally, intensely interested in her mystic symbols.”

Behind rather thick glasses, I caught Kirov glance momentarily at the phone on his desk before quickly looking away.

I pounced. “You spoke to him on the phone? Directly?”

Kirov nodded. “Yes. Using technology provided by my brother to keep the connection secure.”

“Only last night?”

He cringed. “And again, this morning.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened. “After the briefing? After learning what the scroll could really be?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Dammit, Kirov! How well do you know this Levin guy? He now knows that there is a person here, at Whateley, with a connection to the Book of Life!” Shit, and if they knew anything about me then that’s who they’ll think it is. Though that did have good possibilities for keeping August safe…

“You don’t understand!” Kirov protested. “With such a connection, miracles may be performed!”

“The children at this school perform miracles every day,” Isaiah commented. Frankly, I had to agree but Kirov was emphatically waving those napkins at us.

“No. Not like this! Within the book is written not just the record of every life, but their potentials as inscribed by Hashem. Including when they should - or shouldn’t - end!”

Wait. I paled. “Circe mentioned Atropos…”

The rabbi’s face lit up with excitement. “Yes! Exactly!”

Isaiah looked between us. “I’m missing something.”

I was speechless, so Kirov was the one to blurt it out. “August might be able to use her connection to the book to save Danielle Thorne!”

~o~O~o~

Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

For one thing, August had no idea how to use her connection and even looking at the words within the book for too long could damage her human mind according to Kirov. But the crux of the problem was simple.

The clock was ticking.

“We are already in the Yamin Nora’im,” Kirov was saying. “Rosh Hashana was last week, thus we have until Saturday.”

Isaiah nodded as if he understood what that meant, so I had to ask. “Spell it out, I’m not Jewish.”

They both looked at me with amusement. Ha ha, I got it, the angel in the room didn’t know the religious things they were babbling about. Real funny.

“Yom Kippur is this Saturday,” Kirov said. “It is the Day of Atonement. During these High Holy Days, the ten days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, Hashem inscribes the names of everyone and their fates in His book for the next year. On Yom Kippur, our Sabbath of Sabbaths, the judgments as written in the book are sealed.”

I chewed a lip. “So you’re saying that if Danielle’s problem is that she was meant to die when she got shot, then we have until Saturday to get her name back in that book. Okay, how does August do that?”

The rabbi lost his exuberance. “I do not know. Traditionally a person prays and atones for their sins against Hashem for the past year but Danielle is unconscious. While we may pray fervently on her behalf, and believe me I have, Ms. Rose’s interaction with the scroll could prove more effective. Perhaps she could simply write Ms. Thorne’s name within its pages directly? Though that is practically blasphemous to consider and this is why I needed to consult with Rabbi Levin. There may be something in his histories that can be our guide on the best approach.”

My stomach sank like the Titanic with an entire tank division wedged on the promenades. “I’m about to go all the way to Aleppo! Who knows if I’ll be back in time!” Fuck!

Isaiah tried to offer comfort. “August may not need your help. We will do everything we can for Danielle.”

I looked to my friend. “You’ll stay here? All week? And work with Kirov and August, and if needed his rabbi in Tel Aviv?”

He nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”

Just hearing that eased some of the current acidic burbling of anxiousness. I knew he wasn’t an expert or even had any experience with this stuff, but it helped just the same. “Okay.”

There was a buzzing in Isaiah’s pocket. Frowning, he fished out his phone before announcing, “Mrs. Carson sent a message. Jordan should head to Hawthorne and pack for her trip, the house mother will have a few extra items for her to take.”

I breathed in deep. “I guess I really am going.”

Rabbi Kirov pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “Jordan, we will pray for your success. Leich I’shalom.”

Go toward peace. “Thanks, rabbi, I’ll try. And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that.”

“It…well, it certainly was startling.” He noticed all the wet napkins still in his hand and tossed them in the trash by his desk.

Isaiah cleared his throat. “Before you run off - and may I just comment that for all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you run this much - how have you been speaking Russian this whole time? And with absolute fluency?”

Kirov answered immediately before I could say anything. “The Gift of Tongues.”

We both stared at him so he added, “Hashem’s messengers cannot do a very good job unless they speak all languages, yes?”

Well I’ll be…holy? For everyone’s sake, I hoped so. I gave Isaiah a hug goodbye, deciding to tease a little by kissing him on the cheek. Then for equalities sake, I did the same to Kirov before rushing out the door.

I’m not sure who blushed the brightest, them…or me.

~o~O~o~

Darting back into Hawthorne at speed I almost bowled someone over but skidded to a halt in time.

“Zap!”

“Hey.” He had changed clothes and his tussled hair was still wet. Given the ‘I-still-need-coffee’ expression, he must have woken up, showered, and come straight here.

Mrs. Cantrel called out from behind her lobby station. “Jordan! We need to plan your wardrobe for your trip. I’ve gathered a few items that may help. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Alright!”

Zap raised a curious eyebrow at me. “Trip?”

“They’re putting me on a plane to the middle east, possibly today from the sound of it.”

He blinked tired eyes at me. “What?”

“Yeah, it’s crazy, and a long story. What happened with Erica, though? Do you remember everything?”

With a nod, he scratched the back of his head. “I think I’ve got most of it. I…Heru dropped off Erica’s soul. She was at a hospital somewhere in California, or at least her room had an ocean view. Her eyes popped open immediately. She was the only one in the room, and she obviously saw me because she told me thanks and that she owed me one too. I took off after that and woke up in your room upstairs. What about Danielle?”

I shook my head. “Still unconscious.”

His face and shoulders fell. “Damn.”

“Hey, you did more than I could ever have asked. If you hadn’t gone…”

“You mean if Heru hadn’t gone.” He looked away.

“Heru is your spirit. He is you. So thanks to you Danielle has a fighting chance.”

He didn’t seem too convinced. “But it didn’t work.”

“Kirov is working on something that might help.”

“Anything I can do?”

“I don’t know. Unless your, you know, godly family can do something. Like maybe Anubis?”

He grimaced and looked down at his shoes. “When he gave me the charm bracelet he said something. We could help transport a spirit, but beyond that she - meaning Danielle - was outside our domain. And they show up when they want to, not when I want them to.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Pulling him into a hug, I said, “It’s okay.” Mrs. Cantrel hovered on out behind him and was clearly waiting for me so I let him go. “I need to run. If you want, check with Kirov or even Lodgeman. Maybe they’ll have something you can do.”

He stiffened at the mention of Lodgeman, but just said, “Yeah, alright. Good luck with your trip, doing whatever it is you’re doing. Be safe.”

I managed a smile. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

We stood awkwardly for a moment, and Mrs. Cantrel coughed. On impulse I kissed his cheek too, after all that seemed to be the trend today. Before he could react I scampered past him towards the waiting elevator. “Take care, Zap!” He was still standing there when the doors closed and the lift started its way up to the attic.

Mrs. Cantrel broke the silence. “Girl, that boy has a fierce crush on you.”

“I…yeah.”

“He’s a good one. You break his heart, we gonna have words.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that so we rode the rest of the way in silence.

Once upstairs, Mrs. Cantrel laid out a green silk long-sleeve dress on the bed, along with a dark headscarf and darker green shoes. “Wear skinny shorts plus a sports bra under this, and no socks with those shoes.”

I groaned. “Another dress? Do I have to change now?”

“No, you should change in Paris.”

“Paris?”

She handed me two boarding passes: one from New Hampshire to JFK International that left in a few hours, and another from JFK to Paris. “When you arrive at De Gaulle, there will be a package waiting for you. It will contain a different set of papers for your travel to Damascus, and from there to Aleppo. Here.” She produced a new cellular phone and gave me that too.

“This seems heavier than usual,” I commented, hefting the device in my palm.

“It doubles as a satellite phone. Take it out of airplane mode each time you land, we will be forwarding your calls here to that one in case Mr. Wright calls again.”

I grinned. “And I bet it has a nice GPS tracker on it so you’ll know where I am.”

“Yes.”

“Any other cool features? Lasers? Wire cutters? Magnifying glass?”

Mrs. Cantrel stopped folding the dress and glared. “You aren’t in some kind of spy thriller, girl! Where you are going will be deadly dangerous. Treat it seriously. And study the materials already loaded on the phone, about local customs especially. Your fake visa should have you listed as a European national visiting family in Syria, so don’t blow it. Keep your arms and legs covered in public, and wear the head scarf. Avoid attention.”

I tugged on a lock of shiny scarlet-gold hair. “Unless Gregor Kirov can give me a new devise like the one I had when I came here, I’m going to stand way out.”

“He did.” She handed me a black hairband and also a carrying case for contact lenses. “Should his toy fail, use the head scarf to keep covered as best you can.”

Grabbing my small dufflebag, I started loading items into it. Underwear, hairbrush, you know, the essentials. I had to scoop Khan out of it a couple times, much to his protesting meep-meows. “I’m sorry, buddy. But this is one trip I don’t think I can take you on.”

The poor little guy really didn’t seem too happy about that, and kept head-butting my hand.

“Penelope has agreed to take care of your familiar. I know that most witches can be distressed when separated from them, will you be alright?” Mrs. Cantrel was genuinely concerned.

“I’ll be okay. We need him to stay here and keep Penelope and Jenna and Evie safe. Right, little guy?” He meowed again, clearly not convinced. “Crap, speaking of Evie, I better say goodbye to her in person.”

“Oh?”

“I promised her I would if I ever had to leave again. Just didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“Hmm. She is likely about to have lunch in the cafeteria.”

“Lunch! Is it that late already?” I looked at the clock. “Gah, no wonder I’m so hungry!”

Mrs. Cantrel frowned. “Haven’t you eaten today, girl?”

“Not since yesterday, no. You know, before traveling to Arcadia and all.”

She shooed me away from my half-prepared bag. “Then hurry and grab something. I’ll finish this and take your cat to Penelope.”

“Thanks!” With one last nuzzle to the top of Khan’s fuzzy head, I ran out the door and took the stairs.

Considering I was about to spend at least fifteen hours traveling to get to the destination, I wondered if I could get them to make me a couple to-go boxes. Airplane food, while having gotten better than when I had been young the first time, still mostly sucked after all.

~o~O~o~

The rest of the afternoon zipped past in a blur of goodbyes, lectures on being careful, and yet another debate about whether I should go at all. Circe won the discussion. She dryly noted that if you gave her fifteen minutes she could have a book filled with mystical looking energized chicken-scratch that would dance on the page confusingly when anyone looked at it. Who else but me could tell the genuine article apart from something like that at a glance?

No one had a good answer, so I got loaded up into a car and taken to the airport.

And yes, I did find Evie at the cafeteria. Along with Leland and Jenna, actually. Evie started to protest, getting emotional enough that I was worried she might have another episode.

Jenna was the one to calm her down by saying, and I quote, “Jordan is an angel - she must go where God sends her. Even if we cannot go with her.” The last was said while giving me a rather grumpy glare and she added that if I didn’t come back safely she’d track me down and kick my ass - angel or no.

Evie, after a few more reassuring hugs, seemed to be okay with it. Mostly.

Isaiah, the Kirovs, and pretty much everyone else wished me well and good luck, that sort of thing. Except for Mrs. Carson who merely noted that I should hurry back, as I’d have to make up my schoolwork when I did. Okay, she also gave me a rather warm hug immediately after, totally blowing her headmistress persona for that moment.

Considering the butterflies were busily swarming and thinking of becoming full-fledged dragonflies instead, I appreciated it.

Thus I found myself hours later having changed planes in New York, and settled in to a rather comfortable seat for the long haul to Paris. Kurohoshi had been kind enough to spring for the cost of first class tickets.

I’d been warned about not sleeping on the flights if I could help it, so was seriously loading up on caffeinated beverages. Mostly tea, both hot and cold. Shining brightly and flickering in and out of existence was not recommended as a way to stay unnoticed when out in the general public. This went with the further warning of not being discovered as a meta-powered individual in any way when arriving in Syria. Oppression of mutants (and therefore metas) in the middle east was even worse than their dislike of those who prefer partners of the same sex. We were apparently demons who needed to be exterminated. Joyous, right? And while being an actual living angel might help with that, it’s not like I had a Flying License from Heaven as an ID to prove such.

Anyway, the luxury airline seats had their own screens and individual movie choices. I’d picked an old classic, The Princess Bride, because something purely humorous was what I needed. The seat next to mine was empty too, though I wondered if Kami had bought it out so I’d be undisturbed. He seemed like a guy with very thorough thinking.

Imagine my surprise when a woman interrupted my giggle-infused watching of the movie.

“Mind if I sit here for a minute?” She asked, gesturing towards the empty seat.

Pulling headphones from my ears, I paused the movie. “Uh…”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t stay long. My seat is in the front row, wedged between two idiot businessmen debating which of their companies has the bigger phallus. I just need a break from it.”

Looking forward, there was indeed an empty seat stuck in the middle of two older heavy-set guys who were busy arguing and gesturing widely with fingers adorned with overly ornate and ugly rings. “Oh. Sure, lemme move my stuff.”

Once I got my bag off the seat, she sat down with an amused smile. I should also mention that the woman was pretty, as in drop dead unbelievably gorgeous. Platinum blonde hair was professionally styled to dance over perfect shoulders set over a slinky one-piece silver dress that somehow reflected a cherry red when she moved. The matching sandals adorned feet on a body that would have caused Playboy Bunnies to weep with envy if not with outright murderous intent. If you took a picture of her just as she was right there, sitting on an airplane several hours into its flight, and put it on the cover of a magazine? Those issues would have flown right off the shelves no matter the cost or that it was a trade publication on how to properly drain and clean sewage systems.

In other words, she put the exemplars I’d seen at Whateley to shame. Me included. It wasn’t all about how she looked either. It was how she sat and moved, totally unrestrained and relaxed, brimming with a confidence that could put your standard narcissist to shame. Clearly she knew her effect on people and reveled in it.

“Thank you. It’s also nice to meet other talented people.” She winked at me.

Wait, what? “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else.”

She laughed, like the tinkling of musical bells. “Sweetheart, when you’ve been around as long as I have, you can recognize other enhanced people rather easily. You are far too pretty to be otherwise, and I bet the eye color hiding under those contacts is simply dazzling!”

I swallowed. Shit, I’d barely started on this journey and already I’d been made.

A perfectly manicured hand touched mine. “Oh do relax, I really just want to chat. I won’t breathe of this to another soul. You’re American?”

“Uhm, yeah?”

She sank more comfortably into the plush first class seat. “I’ve always had a fondness for America. ‘Land of the Free, Home of the Brave’. Built by intelligent men with a solid understanding of the importance of the individual.”

Her accent sounded perfectly Hollywood-esque to me. “You’re not from the United States?”

“Not at all. In truth, I find the whole concept of countries amusing.”

The gleam in her eyes was unnerving. “And what would you suggest in their place? A dominant one-world unifying order?”

She gave another burst of melodic laughter as if I’d just said the funniest joke in the world. She may be an absolute bombshell in her looks and demeanor, but there was definitely something ‘off’ about her.

“I’m sorry, but that’s just too funny. I would most likely fall under more of an anarchist category. People free to do as they willed, with nothing oppressing them whatsoever.”

“That’s a nice dream, but I don’t think it’s all that feasible. Without cooperation and structure, societies collapse and people die.”

“The way things are now, I’d agree. It would require everyone to be absolutely self-sufficient, equal in their ability to create what they want whenever they wanted it.”

“Want or need?”

“Is there a difference? But what about you, how would you classify your own political stance?” She leaned in with intense, and somewhat uncomfortable, interest.

“I guess I’d be more libertarian? A structure where any collective organizing serves the purpose of supporting the individual’s freedoms and ability to live their lives as they wish, provided they aren’t harming anyone else. This includes gathering together for defense from outside threats.”

“Free will unencumbered by the state, but rather supported by it?”

“I guess you could put it that way, sure.”

She smiled again, this time though it was more genuine somehow. “Sounds a lot like my father’s opinion, actually. He always was a brilliant individual.”

“Err, thanks?”

Another light-hearted laugh. “Not that I agree completely, mind you, but there is room for common ground. I’m Alal, by the way.” She offered her hand and I took it.

“Jordan. Nice to meet you.”

“Wonderful meeting you too. I think I’ll go use the ladies room, perhaps we could talk more later?”

“Uh, sure?”

She gave another supermodel-quality smile and walked sexily down the aisle towards the bathrooms at the front. I couldn’t help myself, I was curious and risked a moment of my eyes glowing to try and catch a quick peek at her spirit.

Her image didn’t even flicker. She looked the same, dress and shoes included. But there was this weird feeling of seeing some kind of projection as if from a place my mind was unable to even begin to grasp.

The bathroom door closed behind her, but it never latched and kept showing as unoccupied.

After ten minutes I got up. I went over to the bathroom, knocking lightly. “Alal? You okay?” Tentatively I pushed the dual hinged metal door inward. The little room was empty. She was gone.

Shit. Had exhaustion overwhelmed me and I just dreamed the whole thing?

There was no way to tell.

~o~O~o~

Unnerved by the entire possible dream encounter, I stayed in my seat trying not to think about it for the rest of the flight. And no, she never appeared again. A third businessman returned from the other restroom to take that empty middle seat between the other two. He must’ve read the newspaper he was holding at least three times given how long he’d been in there.

Arriving seven hours later at the Charles De Gaulle airport, a flight attendant stopped me as I disembarked down the ramp. To my continued amazement, I’d understood their spoken French perfectly, and the guy hadn’t commented or made any faces at my response. My accent must have passed muster. Well, okay, maybe he was just polite. Either way, he handed over a small soft-leather attache case explaining that my bag had been found.

I thanked him, and hurried to a restroom by the gates. In my nervousness I almost went into the men’s room by mistake, but caught myself at the last second.

Finding a stall, I pulled off my jeans and t-shirt, and opened my travel dufflebag to remove the green dress Mrs. Cantrel had packed. Below the dress in the bag was a dark silky vest and matching shorts, along with a note written in impeccable penmanship saying to wear them under the dress. Feeling the material, it seemed weirdly both thick and thin.

I examined the note further and found more writing on the back. This will not stop a .50 BMG round, but will be good against most firearms and aid against knives or even some magical attacks. Be safe - Cantrel. P.S. Dispose of this note.

Not in a spy-thriller my ass!

Activating Gregor’s hairband and wrapping my head in the scarf thing, I was now a citizen of France on her way to visit a dying grandmother in Aleppo, Syria. I shoved my ‘real’ identification into the special pocket in the attache case I had been told to expect. The pocket sealed itself closed and the spot where it had been felt just as thin as the rest of the inner liner.

The name’s Baghdadi, Jane Baghdadi. Okay, it was actually Jennifer on the papers, just hush and get me a martini.

Feeling ridiculous in the headscarf, I gathered my things and headed over to the gate for the next flight. Oh, and the note got shredded and flushed. Anyone wanting to reconstitute it has my sympathies.

My next two flights - four hours to Damascus with one hour through customs there, following with another hour to Aleppo - went smoothly. Being able to answer in Arabic to the officials in Damascus made things a lot easier, and I will admit I played up the part of being the young girl traveling for the first time, explaining how I was supposed to fly with my brother but the airlines had screwed up and he was forced to take an earlier flight. And yes, he would be waiting for me in Aleppo. Walking through the airport and having all the signs in Arabic make sense as if I’d known the language natively was a real trip as well as really helpful. The weird thing was that it felt like I was still thinking in English, but was I? The translations of the concepts behind the words were so automatic to whatever language was needed it was difficult to tell.

The real hard part had been staying awake, mainly due to boredom. I hadn’t wanted to walk around on the plane much, as that too could attract attention. I read and re-read the material they’d loaded on the phone and watched more movies. I even picked some foreign ones and found it pretty darn cool to no longer need subtitles.

Hey, if you can’t play with and appreciate your own crazy abilities then what’s the point of having them?

In any case, I arrived at Aleppo’s airport aboard a dinky propeller plane that sounded like it could use a serious mechanical overhaul. It did manage to get me there in one piece, and for that I was grateful.

At the end of the ramp was a seriously tough-looking buff dude wearing one of those stretchy black tank tops along with combat boots and matching pants holding a sign that said, “Abdulla 119:105”. The name was meaningless, but the numbers were the code I’d been told to look for on arrival. I went over to him and announced, “I made it.”

He looked me over. “Nice dress.”

“Oh shut up. Lead on, James.”

“Name’s Fred, not James.” At least he was grinning. “I was told to remind you to check your phone.”

Phone? Well shit, it had been in airplane mode through security in Damascus. The thought of trying to talk to Nick in English while standing in front of those machine-gun holding guards had prompted me to turn its communications off.

Flipping it back to active while I walked with tall dark and military, it immediately chimed that there was a message waiting. I held it up to my ear and listened to the recording. Yep, it was Nick, but he didn’t sound happy.

“Jordan! I hope you got the attention of the right authorities and that they dispatched something useful, because I think I figured out what these schmucks are trying to do. If they can load the entire alcove onto the truck that pulled in this morning, my guess is they figure they can disarm the main ward simply by driving the whole bloody thing far enough away from the ley line it's powered from. Once they have it loaded that truck is going to move. They get out of town and if they extract whatever is in there, keeping tabs on where the prize goes will be damn near impossible. Call me as soon as you can or at the very least scream at the authorities that their window to act is closing rapidly. Nick out.”

Shit. I checked the time of the message, it was stamped only an hour ago.

“Trouble?” I’d stopped walking and Fred was at my side hovering protectively.

“Yeah. They are trying to load an entire chunk of the basement of the synagogue onto a truck. Get me somewhere more secure and I’ll call him back. If that truck is already moving, I bet he’s tailing it.” I started walking more briskly.

Mr. Muscles easily kept up. “Shit. Our team isn’t all assembled. We’re missing more than half.”

“How long till they get here?”

“Two hours. Flights got delayed.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know if we have the time to wait.”

“If we must, we go with four. You included. You have any training? The brief was sucktastic.”

“Then it probably told you to keep me safe, just don’t do it at the cost of your own lives. I can probably survive a lot more than you’d expect.”

He didn’t respond to that.

Another black SUV (what else?) was waiting at the curbside pickup. Fred opened the rear passenger door for me and I climbed in. He then swapped places with the driver, a much shorter Latino guy in a matching don’t-mess-with-me outfit who hopped into the front passenger spot.

In the back sat a younger-looking guy wearing shorts and a black Metallica t-shirt. He’d kicked off flip flops to pull up his knees and was staring at a computer tablet. He never even looked over at me.

Introductions would need to wait as I had a phone call to make. I thumbed the phone and breathed a small sigh of relief when Nick answered on the fifth ring. “Jordan? This better be you.”

“You’re damn right it is. I’m in town with some calvary, where you at?” If talking tough would actually help my screaming nerves then I’d be fine. Really.

“The bloody truck is heading towards Antakya Gate. My guess is they’ll swing from there to head up to Shihan and then take the Two-Fourteen out of town to the North-West.”

“Already? Crap.” I relayed the details to Fred, hoping he’d know where the hell all of that was.

He cursed and started up the vehicle. “Got it. Tell him we’re on our way and keep him on the line. Get a description of his vehicle for Derek, he’s the nerd in the back seat.”

I activated the speakerphone and asked Nick about his car. He answered with, “I’m in a piece of shit white Toyota Corolla.”

“Stay on the phone, Nick.”

“If my battery dies, just follow the route I gave you. I’ve had the damn thing on too long waiting for your call. You’ll recognize the truck. It’s huge, carrying two massive lumps covered with black tarp, with two escort Hummers. And you can’t miss the fucking helicopter with the side-mounted machine gun flying high above it.”

The guy with the bare feet next to me grinned. “Cute!”

Fred grunted. “Hang on, we have a ways to go to catch up.” Putting his foot down, he started weaving through traffic.

Oh, guess this was the car-chase part of the spy thriller. I hoped I wouldn’t throw up. The Latino guy in the front casually took hold of the oh-shit-grip above his door to hang on.

Nick cursed again. “That’s it, phone’s out. Better see you soon.”

“Hang in there!” I shouted at mine. “We’re coming!” But the line was dead.

No one said anything as we raced through the traffic. The sun was just past the zenith and I was hit with how hot it was outside. With the rush out of the airport I hadn’t noticed, but yeah it was at least a hundred degrees out there.

Babbling more out of nervousness than anything else, I asked Fred about the numbers on the sign at the airport. “Any idea what one-nineteen and one-oh-five actually means? Seemed awfully specific.”

Without skipping a beat while darting around a white van, he answered. “It’s a Psalm. Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. The boss picked the code, but I wasted too many days in Sunday school so I looked it up.”

Oh. Seriously Kurohoshi?

The other guy up front finally said something. “If the boss is tossing prayers around, we’re fucked.”

I disagreed. “He wasn’t praying.”

That earned a look from Derek away from his screen. “Then what? I agree with Miguel.”

I chewed on my poor lip again. “I think your boss is telling me not to hold back.”

Derek tilted his head. “Hold back what?”

“My power. Just get us there, Fred.”

The guys up front glanced at each other and bumped fists.

“Roger that, girl!” Miguel said with sudden enthusiasm. “Let’s go blow some shit UP!”

We took another sharp corner and ahead in the distance could be seen a helicopter. My eyes were good enough to make out the huge cannon stuck to its side.

Kurohoshi may not have been praying, but right now with the heat and the burnt-oil smell of too many cars which had never submitted themselves to California smog regulations, the danger seemed all too gritty and real.

I tossed my own prayer upward asking for all of us to make it out of this alive.

Light's Promise (Part 6 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 21 - Aleppo

Fred hit a ramp that veered off to the right and the helicopter swung around to be seen clearly from the passenger window.

“Hey, the chopper is the other way!” I said more shrilly than intended.

Derek snorted. “Fourteen kilometers of proper highway versus eleven through the Old Quarter and possible crowds? Chill. Fred knows what he’s doing.”

“Keep your eyes on that bird,” Fred added. “We’re going around the city and should catch them on the other side. Derek, we got anything to take it out?”

“Dude, the heavy armaments were in the other two vehicles. This is the shield car, remember? To protect the princess here. We’ve got the comm jammers though.”

“Princess?” I couldn’t decide if I should take offense.

Miguel chuckled from the front seat. “First class ride and the boss said to be polite. ‘Princess’ fits.” He leaned forward to take a look at the distant helicopter. “Derek, got eyes on that thing and their convoy yet?”

“Drones are inbound. Keep yer shorts on.” Derek gestured furiously yet with tight precision at his tablet. He was controlling it via the camera and finger positions directly. “Wright is right, ha! Two humvees. One in front, one in rear. Rear is sporting the machine gun turret option. And damn that’s a big truck. Construction equipment platform transport, extra wide. Two large shapes covered under black tarps all tied down, a smaller additional one at the back.”

“Those have to be the alcoves, walls and all,” I said and leaned over to take a look at his screen. The two blobs under all the plastic really were huge. “But how the heck did they raise them up intact like that from the synagogue’s rubble in only a couple days?”

Fred muttered a curse. “They may have brought in a specialist. Miggy, if so - priority target. You heard the ROE from the boss, be as messy as you have to be.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Our SUV tore along the highway at high speed, with Fred expertly dodging and weaving around the honking cars in our way. He even used the shoulder when things got too tight. The center of the city was in full view out the window, mosque spires sprinkled about between closely built buildings all sharing the same off-white color. Quick snapshots of smaller streets as we went by showed narrower old roads with cobblestones and spiderwebs of electrical cabling criss-crossing above.

At the center of the city was a large separated circle with what looked like an ancient surrounding wall. A castle sat on top of the hill and dominated the city around it.

“What’s the big mound with the wall at the middle there?”

“The Citadel of Aleppo,” Derek answered calmly without looking. “You’re not here to play tourist, princess. Stay focused.”

I went quiet and tried not to hyperventilate. What the hell was I doing here? Machine guns? Helicopters and soldiers? Holy hell. I should have stayed with Danielle, being here was insane. But what good would I have been for her? Her spirit was asleep within her body, floating there and only staying put because of the efforts of Circe and Mr. Lodgeman. I’d screwed up so many things by not understanding my power, filling Danielle’s spirit with that light could very well just shotgun her soul into its next life.

And Raphael was still not taking my calls.

We started to curve back around the other side of the city, and the helicopter was getting closer. It was now just off to the right.

Miguel piped up. “Derek, now would be a good time to confuse the fuck out of their police.”

“Roger that.” A few more swipes and taps and Derek giggled, sounding like some kind of mad scientist who’s creation just came alive. “That should do it! They’ll be chasing reports of shots fired, robberies in progress, and potential riots at all the markets for the next hour. And a dude boinking goats on various rooftops while singing about Old Baghdad. Hey, I think I see the shitty Toyota.”

Swinging through a roundabout, we were suddenly behind not just a beaten up Corolla but the convoy itself.

Miguel cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck. “I’m up. Get past Wright and put me in range.”

Fred quickly glanced over then refocused on the road, thick muscles in his back tensing up. “Derek, can your shields handle the chopper’s cannon?”

The hacker shrugged. “For a few minutes until the portable battery dies, sure. They’ve got a gun not a blaster. But there’s an energy signature coming from the back end of that truck.”

“Get me close enough to that too,” Miguel said.

Coaxing more speed from our vehicle, Fred overtook Nick’s car which was only about sixty yards behind the convoy. As we passed it by I saw that Nick was alone. “Wright’s solo in that thing.”

“The guy’s a mage, right?” asked Fred. “Any good?”

“If you believe his P.R. then yes,” I replied.

The sand-colored humvee in the rear swung its turret around towards us.

“Fuck, we’ve been spotted. Hang on!” Fred shouted, swerving back and forth on the road.

“Shield’s live!” called out Derek in response. A loud electrical hum kicked in from the back end of our SUV, the vibration pulsing through the seat.

Miguel pointed an index finger towards the humvee, bracing the forearm with his other hand. “Closer, dammit!”

The heavy machine gun barked thunder and the road alongside us was instantly chewed up, spitting dust everywhere.

“Closer!”

Fred forced the SUV to drop a gear, redlining the engine but causing it to lurch forward.

“Take this motherfucker!” Miguel’s extended finger burst into flame, filling the cabin with the acrid smell of burnt flesh.

I was about to scream in alarm when the humvee in front of us exploded, sending tires, turret, doors, bits of metal, and four fire-consumed bodies flying in all directions. Including right at us.

Pulling in energy, I braced for collision.

Nothing hit. Shrapnel and one guy screaming in flames thudded off some kind of projected field surrounding our vehicle. With my own energy tap now open, I could see it. A shimmering bubble had enveloped the SUV.

“Yeah!” Miguel cheered, and he got busy wrapping his finger in gauze from a white roll he must have had standing by in his lap. The flesh had clearly cooked through. As in black and crispy.

“Jesus Christ,” I gasped. “Doesn’t that fucking hurt?”

“Shit yeah, princess! And then the nerves die and it’s all good. Don’t worry, Doc will fix me up fine. What these assholes should worry about is I got nine more! Ha!”

Our shield suddenly took an insane amount of fire, rapid and ear-thumping concussions blasting from above.

The helicopter’s gunner had opened up on us.

“It’s holding!” shouted Derek over the incredible noise.

Ricocheting bullets bounced off our shield and made a total mess of everything around. Cars on the other side of the road heading the other direction screeched as they got shredded. One swerved so hard it flipped over to skid away behind us. We bounced harshly as Fred drove over some of the exploded humvee’s wreckage, probably one of the doors. But the cannon overhead was no longer my main worry.

That had shifted to a darkly winged figure appearing out of the top of the truck’s cab.

“Oh shit,” I muttered as its wings spread and it sped towards us. “Swerve left!” I shouted at Fred.

“What?” To his credit he tried, but its speed was too great. And it completely ignored Derek’s mighty forcefield as it phased right past our windshield and clawed an emaciated hand at Miguel’s throat before diving out the side. Oil-black wings swept over Fred and Derek as it went past.

Her wings. It was a woman, and her eyes were covered with the obsidian darkness that was all too familiar.

Miguel convulsed once and went still, his head hanging forward as his body was held in place by the seatbelt.

“What the fuck?” Fred cried out. “Miggy!”

I punched the release on my restraints and found myself leaning into Derek so he could hear me over the concussive sound of the helicopter again opening fire.

“You’ll want to close my door once I’m out.” My voice was strangely calm as I carefully removed the headband devise, placing it on the seat between us.

His eyes went wide but he nodded to me.

Popping the door handle, I let myself fall sideways out of the SUV while reaching for all the light and power I could muster because I’d seen what she had done.

She’d stolen Miguel’s soul.

Bright wings flared outward before I hit the ground and launched me towards the fallen angel streaking higher into the sky.

She spun around to face me while floating in front of an incongruously fluffy white cloud. With fingers more bone than muscle and sharpened into talons she gripped the throat of Miguel’s spirit, dangling the ephemeral image of the man off to the side.

Her expression was blank. Unwashed brown hair floated around sunken cheeks as if draped around the features of a starvation victim. No evil exultation, no regard for the surroundings or to the struggling of the weaker spirit desperate to get away, nor fear or even reaction to the blaze of light streaking towards her. Nothing. She was a shell, and far beyond her I sensed the true malevolence pulling her strings.

Azazel. His dark corruption had consumed her completely, she was no more in control than Derek’s drones were in command of their own fates.

I was afraid that blasting her could accidentally damage Miguel’s soul so I braced to simply slam into her, building as bright a nimbus of light around me as I could.

She may have been under remote control, but she was fast. At the last moment before collision she blipped sideways and shoved her free hand into one of my wings.

If I’d had time to think of a curse before being pulled away, I would have said it.

~o~O~o~

Nick let loose a string of the worst words he knew in several languages. His beat-up Toyota struggled to keep up with the mayhem being unleashed ahead, in fact he was pretty certain one of its four cylinders was misfiring.

He did, however, have a direct view of a reddish-gold haired girl falling out the side of a black Chevy before taking off into the air like a rocket blasting off from Canaveral, angelic wings and glory blazing brighter than the sun.

“Holy shit! Staying out of trouble my grandmother’s left foot!”

He’d spotted the fallen angel’s attack and subsequent vertical ascent into the stratosphere, but being stuck on the ground he figured there wasn’t much he could do about it. Jordan would have to deal with it herself, unless she lead the thing back down. The Chevy in front of him, however, was taking some serious fire from the helicopter. The chopper had hovered closer so it could pour lead onto its target’s shield.

This was something he could offer assistance with.

With one hand on the wheel, he used his teeth to pull off the other’s glove, holding the palm and its mystical tattoo towards the windscreen. A shouted word later and the glass shattered outward onto the hood, the wind and smoke from the burning humvee he swerved around blowing right in his face. Leaning forward and blinking ash from his eyes, he held the arm high with the palm facing upwards towards the chopper.

Taking a moment to concentrate, the tattoo glowed purple. His fist locked around the mark as he grunted and swung the arm down as if pulling something off a high shelf.

To the helicopter gunner’s surprise his side-mounted machine gun suddenly ripped away from its mount, falling freely towards the ground even as rounds kept feeding into its firing chamber until the belt itself pulled free.

“Yeeeeha!” Nick crowed before wincing and shaking his hand. “Dammit, still smarts to use that.”

The wide-load truck plowed through a car in the road ahead refusing to slow down. In fact it was accelerating further. The humvee in front swung out to the shoulder so it could let the truck pass, side doors opening to show military-clad men with assault rifles.

“Oh no you don’t,” Nick muttered, reaching over to fumble with the leather satchel resting on the passenger seat. Withdrawing a yellow crystal sphere, he gave it a moment’s consideration. “Considering what you cost to make, I hate to do this but fuck it. I’ll pay her back somehow.”

He tossed the sphere out of the car as if it were a baseball. Instead of arcing towards the ground, the little orb spun itself up and raced towards the front of the truck. Finding the exhaust stack, it smashed through the protective metal flap over the pipe and rammed itself deep into the engine. The sound of shrieking protesting metal spilled over the highway as the truck’s huge engine tore itself apart. With a tremendous shudder the truck started to slow, thick black smoke billowing out the pipe and from under the cab.

“Gotcha!” Nick grinned. “That’s what you get when you mess with a mage who’s prepared!”

At the rear of the truck on the open platform, the smaller tarp slipped free to fly through the air towards the black Chevy. The driver of Jordan’s crew adeptly dodged it, and the tarp hit the ground before Nick drove over the plastic.

What it had kept covered caught Nick’s attention. A circle of painted runes and symbols surrounded a throne-like chair, with a single shirtless man strapped to it. Thick electrical wires ran from three massive batteries into the base of the chair itself, throwing sparks as the system was powered on. The full-bearded man on the electrified throne began chanting and the earth below the highway started to rumble and shake.

“Aw come on! That’s just not fair!”

~o~O~o~

Smoke and ash filled my lungs.

Whateley Academy had been leveled into rubble and soot. Only the patterns of the destruction gave away what it had once been. Doyle was aflame and the Crystal Hall had shattered into millions of tiny glittering shards. Bodies of students and faculty lay scattered and broken amidst the wreckage, the stench of decomposition mixing with the choking air. My closest friends were among them: Jenna, Evie, Brendan, Tamara, even Penelope was there having bled out from being vivisected by concrete rebar.

The flag in front of the remains of the administration building still flew but the brighter shade of red had been replaced with the raw color of blood as it flapped in a particle-filled wind. Why would someone take the time to swap flags…Oh.

Failure.

“For fuck’s sake,” I said, crossing my arms while staring at the image of disaster. “Is this the best you’ve got, asshole?”

You could not protect them.

“I mean, one of those kids over there in that pile you so grotesquely conjured up can do hella better than this.”

The light will fail you.

“Am I supposed to be surprised and overwhelmed by these fears? Been there, done that, lost the t-shirts!”

You will fail them all.

“Oh shut up. No shit, something like this could happen. Yeah, it’s terrifying that I might screw up and trigger such a catastrophe. And sure, you scare the living hell out of me. But you know what would be worse? Giving up. So in the words and examples of my friends, fuck you!”

A pause.

If your fears hold no sway, then perhaps the pain of another will.

“Dammit…” The illusionary setting fell away as everything was tossed down a bottomless pit given strength by someone else’s darkness and despair.

 

Feathers emblazoned with galaxies and glorious nebulae folded across a weeping angel’s shoulders. In her arms lay the body of a young man who couldn’t have been more than fifteen years of age.

“Shemyaza! Azazel! I do what you ask, but they die! My sons, my daughters, all of them…so many…”

She collapsed to her knees in supplication before the two Grigori captains, clutching her lifeless boy.

Shemyaza, wearing his preferred younger face, placed a palm upon her head. “You must keep trying. If we are to avoid being cast into Hell, we must build our army.”

The other captain approached with arms crossed and hidden under a large black cloak. “There are worse fates possibly awaiting us than Hell, brother.”

“Oblivion is preferable to endless torment, would you not agree?“ asked the youth. “Though perhaps you have a point.”

The female angel choked back tears, carefully placing the body of her son on cold marble floor. “I can do this no more. I try and try, but while my essence merges with the human women as you have taught, our offspring just don’t…don’t…” Sobs finally consumed her and she cried out, “I cannot!”

Shemyaza frowned as he knelt beside her. Lifting her chin with a single finger, he said curiously, “Do you truly mean this? Knowing what is at stake?”

“I am sorry, my captain.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I…I love them too much, their loss is more than I can bear.”

With a sigh, Shemyaza straightened. He turned to his brother, disappointment spilling over otherwise immaculate and beatific features. “She’s no good to us like this, brother. Go ahead and ease her pain.” Putting arms behind his back, he walked away. Her struggles and agonies were no longer any concern of his.

“Ease my pain?” She looked up to Azazel, a flicker of hope emerging from under heavy sorrow.

“Yes, dear sister. You need never feel pain again.”

Like his brother, Azazel reached for her. But it wasn’t with a hand. Black ichor-laden tentacles spilled from his sleeve, surrounding and consuming her whole within the folds of his dark power.

She wasn’t even allowed to scream.

 

Complete darkness. No images, no sound, nothing. Not even the sensation of having a form.

Trying to pull more light, I could feel the inner connection but it was like I was cut off from the universe. A light shining into absolute nothingness goes…where?

Right. Don’t panic and don’t be stupid. Think. I could be floating in the sky with the puppet Grigori sticking a hand in my wings or I had flickered away.

Neither option sounded safe.

But still, that meant I was somewhere, even if I couldn’t sense anything while surrounded by the eternal cold of this total void.

Oh.

I was in her spirit, and it was empty. Hollowed out and left as a tool wielded by a real bastard from afar.

Wait a minute. If she was a Grigori then she should have been stuck in that whole incarnation trap just like the fae. Considering she likely had been eaten by Azazel before Gabriel (or whomever) did the working that had shoved them all into human lives, captain jerk-face probably would have used his puppet to fight. Which means this Grigori should have been on Earth when the binding spell, Bristlebeak’s Spell of Doom, went off.

If she had incarnated there must be a human body. Shit, that would mean her human self could be nearby in either the other humvee or the truck and she must have astral projected from there. My bet was on the truck’s cab, as that’s where her angel self had popped out from. And if she had a physical body there would need to be a tether leading to the spirit.

If there was a tether maybe I could use it to climb out of here.

But how to find it? Was there a spell or something that would reveal such a thing? All I could see was darkness.

Kirov’s lectures about intent and faith being the keys to any magical working came to mind. Stubbornness I had in spades and I was decent at focusing it, but faith?

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

Kirohoshi may have been trying to tell me something, but if I dug down deep with everything that had happened since that day of damnable traffic, what had I believed in the most? Did I really believe God had sent me to do all these things? Except I hadn’t done them for God or because I thought He wanted me to do them.

I’d done them because they needed doing, or more honestly because I had chosen them to be important enough to try. Had God or Hashem or whatever known what I would do? Was I also just a tool?

Or had I just been guided to the right place and the right time where my choices could maybe make a difference. Like with Tsáyidiel and my promise that he’d have a shot at redemption to once again be the glorious angel I’d seen in his past. The light had accepted that choice and acted through me to make it happen. Heck, it had embraced it with a symphony of joyous exultation.

And here I floated in a void which was all that was left of another angel’s sense of self. One whose hopes had been ripped right out and her entire core - her word and name - had been cast aside like so much trash on a desert highway. All because she couldn’t bear to lose any more of those she loved.

It wasn’t right. It made me mad.

To the light still flickering distantly within, I threw out a prayer like a challenge.

Help me and I will do all I can to help her. I swear it.

All sense of separation and distance to that source simply vanished in the resulting brilliance pouring forth to fill not just me but also shove forcefully into the empty space I had been floating in.

A silver ribbon flared brightly in the sudden outflow and I grabbed for it, willing myself to slide along the length to its other end.

The celestial symphony of that light swelled towards a crescendo and I had my own part to sing.

~o~O~o~

Nick reacted quickly, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing at the satchel. The protesting earth under his car burst upward with a shriek of concrete and dirt, tossing the hapless Corolla as if it were but a Matchbox toy.

The magus rolled out through the space where the windshield used to be as the vehicle flipped over, managing to barely escape from being crushed by the upside-down car as it landed with a loud crunch. Tucking into a roll as he impacted the pavement, he was pleasantly surprised that his recovered coat’s protective spells had some power left in them. Regardless, his previous bruises mightily protested the additional round of concussive pain. Gritting his teeth, he ignored them and scrambled to his feet, booking it towards the Chevy SUV and the sound of small arms fire.

The vehicle’s shields were holding. The driver had spun the car around so he could shoot a M16 through an open window at the men from the other humvee. The Syrian soldiers had opened up with their AK-47s but their shots couldn’t reach the Chevy. Whereas the driver’s steady application of three-round bursts was busy leaving a mess of the humvee’s doors and glass. The former occupants huddled on the far side of the desert painted vehicle popping up to take uncontrolled shots. A quick glance inside one of those open doors revealed at least one unmoving figure.

Running to the back of the SUV, Nick used his knees to skid to a stop next to the brake lights.

“Where are you?” he grunted, shoving a hand again into the satchel. “Aha!”

Pulling out a fraying small Crown Royal bag, he dumped its contents onto the highway: a set of runestones no larger than throwing dice. A guy with scraggly red-hair and curious fashion choice for a combat operation threw open a rear door. “Get in!”

Nick refused. “Can’t! And shut up, need to focus!” Quickly going through each stone one by one he kept some and tossed aside others while muttering, “Nope. Nope. Yep. Nope. Yep.” Once he had the stones he wanted, he arranged them in two small circles on the ground before pulling off his other glove.

From the nearby truck the whine of that throne powering itself up could be heard as the guy strapped onto it resumed his loud chanting. The Chevy’s driver redirected his aim in that direction but it was quickly obvious that the setup on the back had its own shielding mechanism. Sparks flashed in mid-air where the bullets failed to penetrate.

The guy in the heavy-metal shirt shouted at him again. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your ass!” Nick shouted back. “They’ve got an energized bloody geomancer!” Placing hands in the center of the two circles formed by the stones, he closed his eyes and started muttering his own chanted casting. The static electrical potential in the air went up tenfold causing the guy leaning out the door to frown. “Shit, if this fries my electronics-”

The ground underneath the SUV groaned and swayed as if in an earthquake but stayed intact. With sweat dripping thickly from his forehead, Nick grinned towards the bearded caster bound to the truck’s devise. “Weren’t expecting a counterspell, were you?”

From the truck the whine of power cycled up again.

“Nuts.” Nick’s grin faded and he yelled at the ginger-haired youth. “I’m going to run out of juice eventually! So if you can think of something to get past his shield and shut him down, now would be the time! Can you blow it up like you did the first hummer?”

“Man, I don’t even know what the fuck is going on. Our heavy took out their car, but he’s out cold for some damn reason. And according to the ethereal lenses on my drone there are three angels in the sky!”

Three? Nick glanced upward, muttering a quick cantrip to give himself far-sight. Sure enough the kid was right. One bright, one dark, and one clad in armor wielding a big ass sword spewing whitish blue flames trailing through the air after every stroke.

Where’d that one come from?

~o~O~o~

Two angels fought in the open sky, and I wasn’t one of them.

The first was the Grigori who’d snatched Miguel. The second had silver and gold armor over black leather of a style I thought I recognized, but his wings were a whitish-grey and not the blood red I had suspected.

Also my chest hurt. There was a hand-sized spot over my heart where the green dress and my beloved sports bra had, for lack of a better term, been scorched away. The skin was red and clearly inflamed in that area, but at least it was intact. Mrs. Cantrel’s protective vest must have saved my epidermis from a much worse fate, though sadly her gift had melted clear through.

As for the poor bra underneath both, let’s just say it was no longer capable of offering any support.

The clash of steel on steel demanded attention. The armored guy was swooping at the hapless puppet, but she was now holding a rapier of her own. His attack was swiftly parried and he backed off with wings beating mightily as he redirected. It was clear he had positioned himself between me and the remote-controlled Grigori.

He caught sight of me over a shoulder and called out in a gruff voice. “You’ve recovered. Good! Don’t let the corrupted ones touch you for that is how they spread their blight. This one was trying to take your heart.”

That didn’t sound good. “Thanks!” Shuddering at the thought of her hand ripping into my chest, I remembered something important. “Hey! What happened to the soul she grabbed?”

Keeping eyes on his expressionless opponent, his flaming sword pointed towards the horizon. Except he hadn’t aimed at the spot where the scorching afternoon sun would eventually set. Revealed to the sight within my burning eyes was a spiritual path leading off from the sky into the otherworld. And Miguel was slowly walking forward towards a light other than that of the shining sun.

Oh shit! “Keep her busy for another minute! I need to save him!”

“The mortal goes to his reward. Why interfere?”

“He’s part of my team, dammit!”

The armored angel regarded me while the dark Grigori adjusted her position to defend against a possible dual attack. “If he is your comrade, then go. By God’s grace, I shall hold.” Without further delay he launched another mighty flurry of sword-strokes towards the Grigori. She flipped backwards to avoid them, dark wings sweeping a tight arc as she countered with a few rapid thrusts of her rapier.

“Thanks! But don’t kill her, she needs to be saved too!”

His reply was lost to the wind. I had already put on a burst of speed to try and catch the tunnel fading from the afternoon sky.

~o~O~o~

Bullets bounced off the shield above Nick’s head. The helicopter had swung lower, and while its main cannon was gone that wasn’t preventing the side gunner from opening up with a stream of lead from his personal rifle.

Exhaustion from countering the geomancer’s attempts to flip or impale the SUV with the very ground it rested upon was starting to take its toll on his focus. The SUV’s driver - an obvious exemplar with the way those muscles threatened to shred his shirt - had stepped cautiously out of the car in order to get field of fire at both the helicopter and at the truck driver who had come around firing a pistol.

The truck driver was now on the pavement having taken a few rounds to the chest.

“Any thoughts? Name’s Fred by the way,” said the mound of muscle after peppering the underside of the chopper with a few more rounds.

Nick snorted. “Thoughts? Sure. I should have been a research wizard.”

“Heh. Look, Miguel is unconscious but seems physically unharmed and Derek is babbling about angels. You’re the mage, any ideas? Could you wake Miguel up? I bet he could take out the geowhatchamacallit dude.”

Shaking his head, Nick replied. “I can’t step away from these circles or we’re going to get earth-hammered.”

Derek poked his head out from the backseat. “You’ve got another fifty seconds before he can cast another spell. I’ve been timing the charge-up sequence. It’s taken longer each time; I don’t think those conduits were made for this kind of rapid abuse. They’re probably overheating.”

“Shit, I’m the one overheating,” Nick muttered while wiping another glop of sweat from his face. “Give me fifteen seconds warning, kid!” He ran to the front and threw open the passenger door, quickly placing a palm on Miguel’s forehead. “I thought you said he’s physically unharmed!”

“What?” Fred fired off another burst at the Syrian forces still behind the other humvee. They were shouting at each other in Arabic, but over the sound of the low-flying helicopter it wasn’t clearly heard.

“This guy’s heart stopped!” Nick shouted, then frowned as he sensed other things deeply wrong. “Uh, also not good.”

“Fuck! Move!” Pulling Nick out of the way with ease, Fred yelled at Derek. “Defibrillator, now! And one of my kits!”

Derek scrambled and yanked two small cases out from under the seat, tossing them over Manual’s unconscious form at Fred. Fred passed one off to Nick. “Get that open and push the big red button so it’ll charge!”

Nick flipped the case open, revealing two corded paddles. He mashed the indicated button and he felt it powering up the capacitors. Fred had already opened the smaller case and pulled out a tube ending in a medical needle. Kneeling on the asphalt, he plunged the needle into the crook of his elbow.

“What the hell?” Nick exclaimed. “You’re doing drugs at a time like this?”

“Not drugs,” Fred said with a clenched jaw. He pulled another tube and needle from the case and shoved that one into Miguel’s arm. “My blood’s a healing agent. I’m the damn medic!” As Nick watched, Fred’s case vibrated and pulled blood from Fred’s arm to pump it into Miguel’s.

“I’m not sure how much good that’ll do! Because-”

“Just shut up and hit his chest with those paddles!” Fred leaned out of the way as best he could, his bulked up torso making it difficult.

“Derek, time check!” Nick barked as he reached across to pull up Miguel’s shirt.

“Twenty-five seconds!”

Placing the paddles on Miguel’s chest, he looked at Fred. “I’m sorry, but this just isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?” Fred said as he picked up the rifle with his main hand, ready to fire if just to keep the humvee guys locked down.

“His soul is gone.”

Fred went pale, and not just because his blood was draining into Miguel. “Say what?”

“Jordan is up there and I’m pretty sure she’s fighting the one who stole it.”

“Fifteen seconds!” Derek called out.

“Fuck it, hit him anyway! Do it!” Fred screamed.

With a shrug, Nick triggered the device. He wasn’t sure he had enough mojo left for another counterspell anyway.

~o~O~o~

Miguel walked in a trance towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

And I was failing to get him to snap out of it.

“Miguel! Wake up!” I shook his shoulders, but the glazed expression didn’t change. My attempts to just pick him up failed too, it was like he was locked onto an immovable railing heading inexorably into that light.

Problem was, it was both like and unlike my own tower of light. It represented more of a boundary between what lived…and what didn’t.

Frustrated I stared at it while trying to figure out what to do. My vision expanded and I could see where the light actually came from.

Tremendously large dark wings stretched out and encompassed the entirety of that boundary. Miguel was heading towards a small pin-prick shining through those black feathers, a single star within an otherwise empty sky.

At the center of those wings hovered a hooded figure, massive scythe held in dark hands. I’d seen that weapon in Aradia’s past and somehow I knew that the scythe itself was holding Miguel stuck to the path his feet were inexorably taking him along.

I shouted at that figure. “Azrael! Let this one go, we need him!”

The angel didn’t respond. The hood hung low in front and all I could see was the bottom of a beardless chin and lips locked into a grim unmoving line.

“Please!” Desperate, I tried pulling on Miguel again. “C’mon, break out of it! Let me get you out of here!”

A flash of electricity arced between us and Miguel convulsed. Did I do that?

His eyes blinked to gape at the sight of the massively winged angel hovering before him. “Madre de dios!”

Before I could respond, a voice boomed from all around us.

“CHOOSE.”

“Am I dead?” He looked at me, and then past to the star calling him into Azrael’s embrace. “So beautiful…”

“Miguel! Listen to me!” I cried. “Your friends need you! And if you want to go back I can take you! But you have to decide quickly!”

He frowned. “Friends?”

“Fred! Derek! They’re down there fighting…”

Recognition flowed across his face. “You. You’re the princess.”

Again the voice, but louder. “CHOOSE. NOW.”

“No time to explain!” I said, feeling his chance slipping away. “Do you want to go back? Please, Miguel…”

Once more he looked wistfully towards the star. “So pretty. But I can’t…I can’t abandon my friends.”

“DONE.”

Miguel broke free from the pull that eventually catches everyone, and before he could change his mind I grabbed him around the waist and flew out of there as fast as my wings could carry us.

~o~O~o~

Nick lost his grip on the paddles as a tremendous flash of electricity burst into Miguel. The defibrillator must have seriously malfunctioned and overloaded. It even scorched his already burn-sensitive hands. “Ow!”

But with the resulting spasm from the shock, Miguel’s eyes snapped open and his chest sucked in air.

“Miguel!” Fred sobbed in relief.

“Eight seconds!”

“Shit!” Nick turned and raced towards the empty circles on the ground.

“Seven…Six…”

“Dude!” Fred shouted at Miguel. “We need you to fuck up that bastard on the truck! Now!”

“Five…”

Slamming pain-filled palms onto hot asphalt, Nick tried to focus but his head was spinning. Thoughts scrambled trying to remember the required incantation.

“Four…three…”

He could feel the geomancer’s spell reaching once again into the structure of the earth below, and compared to the energy Nick could still summon it felt like a roaring inferno versus Nick’s tiny matchstick.

“Hey asshole,” Miguel shouted.

“Two…”

“To you I give the double bird salute!”

“One!”

The entire rear end of the truck exploded.

~o~O~o~

As soon as we emerged from the tunnel back into the sky over Aleppo, I not only could see the tether from Miguel’s body to his soul, I could feel it tugging hard.

I let him go and his soul snapped directly back towards his body. I felt more than heard a bell chime, and I knew it had gotten there.

Which was good because right now I had other fish to fry, specifically the dark jerkwad controlling the Grigori.

Spinning about I caught sight of both her and the armored angel with flaming sword, a blade with flames seeming less enthusiastic than they had been earlier. His armor was also sporting spots blemished by nasty looking black scorch-marks.

As far as I could tell she was unharmed, though she had seemingly lost her rapier.

Remembering what I had shouted at Tsáyidiel, I gathered the energy and unleashed it with a word towards the dark Grigori.

Unlike with Tsáyidiel, who at the end had tried to accept the light, she darted silently out of its way before launching across the sky. With claws extended those black on black eyes mindlessly tracked her target. Me.

This time instead of trying a body-slam, I shifted my focus and a different set of symbols flashed through my thoughts. With another shouted command, a sphere of brilliant light surrounded me.

She screamed when she hit.

As those claws slowly penetrated the sphere I grabbed her wrists, shoving as much light as I could through her with a singular intention.

To burn away Azazel’s connection.

She thrashed in my grip, and her cries of pain were merged with another’s. Azazel was screaming too.

“Take that, you bastard!”

Her wings beat against the light that held her fast, and I felt more than saw shreds of corruption starting to peel off and float away like ash escaping a burning log. But I sensed a problem for under that darkness her structure had been so weakened it was in danger of collapse. Trying to remember Raphael’s guidance with Tamara’s soul, I searched for places that would be safe to cleanse.

Except she was so hollowed out I couldn’t find any safe spot from which to start. Within Tsáyidiel had still been the faded remains of his name, while dim and clogged with crud it was there. It had given the center and focal point for the entire pattern.

Hers seemed to have been totally washed away.

It is futile. This one is completely mine.

The evil laughter pissed me off. “Oh really? Shut up and fuck off!” Finding the ichor-laden tether attached to her back like a baited hook stuck in a fish, I shouted another word to cut it free and she collapsed forwards into my arms. The laughter instantly disappeared and the menacing presence was gone.

She was free. And a sword tip aflame with white holy fire chose that moment to burst upward out of her chest.

“No!” I cried in horror. “Why?”

With a quick tug, the armored angel withdrew his blade. “She fell a long time ago, let her suffering be at an end.”

Staring at his helmed face in absolute shock, I felt an urge to blast him too. “Don’t you see? I could have saved her!”

“The fallen cannot be saved. It is our sad burden to contain our brothers and sisters in Hell. Or if need be end them.” He sighed deeply. “My host reaches his limit and I have carried out my duty. Be wary, young sibling, for another fallen Grigori lies below, albeit not corrupted by the taint of the Abyss like this one was. Yet still dangerous.” He raised his sword in a salute and before I could think of how to respond or even ask his name he flickered and was gone.

Leaving me holding a dying angel.

Plunging awareness back into what was left of her spirit, I tried to find something I could support her with. A memory, a spark, anything from which the rest of the pattern could use as an anchor.

All that there was to find was that final scream-less moment when her own captain had betrayed her, even after she had sacrificed so much at his command. Was that really all that was left?

Off in the deepest corner was an emptiness walled off from the rest. It was tiny, but it was solid.

I touched that spot with the light and it acted like a perfect mirror, no light allowed to penetrate. It all just reflected off.

From that buried recess came a thought.

Let me die.

“Please! I can help you!”

I am not worthy. I deserve only death.

“That’s not true! Just let me in, I can’t help you unless you let me!” I cried, trying to pour all the love I could muster towards her voice.

But the mirror fell silent and the edges of her spirit continued to fray away into nothingness.

There was this weak tug from outside, practically no more than a light breeze. Holding my breath, I felt for it again. A dental-floss sized link from her towards the ground below, now precariously weak but it was there. Her incarnated body still lived, struggling to keep going because that’s what life does even if the spirit wishes otherwise.

Like Danielle’s body had done.

As they’d explained to me before, a body can only hold on so long. If I couldn’t reach through that barricaded spot and convince her she had a reason to continue to exist, there wasn’t much I could do. But it was sealed off and no longer listening. I was shut out.

Siabh’s smile as she faded away at the temple flashed through my mind.

Sometimes you only need to find the right words.

I didn’t have them. But I knew someone who might.

Hurrying towards what had to be the angel’s body, I only hoped it could stabilize her spirit so it would live long enough for me to somehow keep another promise.

~o~O~o~

Miguel, with fingers healing rapidly due to the infusion of Fred’s blood, made quick work of the other humvee and also the helicopter. Their flaming wreckage was swiftly added to the rest scattered around the highway.

Derek popped out of the SUV and offered the tired magus a hand up. Taking it, Nick wobbled on his feet and peered past the hot sun at the truck. The entire throne setup, the batteries, and the geomancer were no more. If he had to make an educated guess, Nick speculated that Miguel was a reality warper, able to reach into a realm of massively compressed fire and teleport it wherever he wished in a way that ignored shields or matter existing within this dimension.

To do it, however, he had to shove a part of himself through to connect directly to that fire.

Fred’s blood was incredibly potent and by the time Nick staggered over he could see Miguel’s fingers had already healed.

Remembering the angelic fight above, Nick looked upward to be blinded by a burst of immense light far brighter than the afternoon sun. “Shit!” The rest of the team also flinched, turning eyes away from the glow.

It was Derek who commented. “That ain’t good. No matter how much fake chatter my program is causing to confuse the authorities and keep them busy elsewhere chasing false reports, they’re going to come investigate that. Think she’s okay?”

Nick tried to blink away the spots from his eyes. “I think she IS the brightness.”

Miguel nodded. “Homes, you speak truth. She carried me out of death.”

Ignoring the implications of that, Nick said, “We need to grab whatever has been hidden in that synagogue all these years and get out of here.”

The burly medic looked over at the truck whose back end was still aflame. “Hey, the detonation must have blown off the tarp. You can see the stone walls of that alcove of yours.”

The quiet buzz of a small drone whirred past. Derek was back on his tablet guiding it over to the truck. “There’s a dude standing next to it, he seems to be chanting.”

Nick groaned. “Oh for fuck’s sake, let me see.”

The deviser handed over the tablet, and Nick paled.

“You recognize him?” Fred asked.

After a nervous swallow Nick nodded.

“It’s Callas Soren.”

Chapter 22 - Words

Miguel had been quite busy after his soul was restored. After speeding through the thickening smoke his handiwork was obvious as the back end of the transport truck had shattered like someone had cracked off the end of a diving board and stomped the pieces into dust. Everything past the rear axle was just gone. Charred bodies mixed with the remnants of the chopper and the other humvee, the sight and smell reminiscent of the terrible illusion I’d just escaped.

Except this was real.

Cradling the spirit of the dying angel with one arm, I ripped the door off the cab and peered inside. The driver had apparently bailed and given everything else likely gotten killed, but the passenger seat was occupied.

A girl no more than fifteen and wedged inside a white straitjacket at least a couple sizes too small was curled up unconscious in the seat. My heart damn near broke at the sight, but I couldn’t waste time. As carefully as I could I tried to place her angelic spirit back into its physical carrier.

It slipped easily inside but the girl didn’t wake up. Not that I expected her to.

Gathering her physical self into my arms, I pulled her out of the cab. Honestly she didn’t feel any heavier than her spirit had been. Her face was as gaunt as her angel-self, just younger, and where long brown hair should have been was only a shaved scalp.

Good lord, what had this girl been through?

Fred’s SUV was parked at an angle some distance behind the truck but it sat empty. Where the heck was my team?

Fighting off panic, a surge of magical energy came from the bed of the truck. The first tarp had a large hole in it, but the second had blown clear off and landed in the empty desert beside the highway. Cars were stacked up on the road and people had gotten out to busily take pictures of everything with phones and actual cameras.

Shit. I must be quite a sight. Just what I didn’t need.

I wondered if they could see the flaring of magical power like I did as a barrier snapped into place around that second chunk of rock the truck had been hauling around. Another warding, maybe not as large but still effective, popped up on the ground nearby.

Flying above both, I finally got a good view of what the hell was going on.

Within the smaller magic bubble stood Nick, clearly concentrating as he projected the barrier from those marks on his hands. Standing next to him was Fred and there were what looked like intravenous lines running from each of their arms into a small little box Fred was holding. Nick gestured and yet another flow of energy curved around the original barrier as if to contain it in place too.

Which was, of course, the barrier where a certain dark-skinned and well-tailored guy just happened to be standing right next to the excavated ruins we’d been chasing after. He was also holding a very ornate and ancient book.

Ah hell. He’d already raided the alcove.

“SOREN!” I shouted, moving down between him and everyone else. Off to the side within Nick’s bubble I spotted both Miguel and Derek. Miguel was on one knee and held a large assault rifle aimed at Soren while Derek sat nearby fiddling with his tablet.

“Jordan! Get out of the way!” Nick yelled, but I ignored him.

Callas Soren calmly observed as I drifted further to step onto the bed of the truck just outside his barrier. His expression was rather disconcerting. He beamed with transcendent exultation.

“Aradia!” he said with a broad smile. “If you only knew how overjoyed I am to see you.” And then the bastard took a knee and bowed his head with, dare I say it, reverence.

“What the hell, Soren!” I yelled. “Are you behind all of this? Are you working with Azazel?” If so that barrier of his was about to get blasted with everything I could muster.

He rose slowly, holding the book carefully with both hands. “No. I came to prevent him from getting this.” He held up the book.

The cover was inscribed with symbols matching those in August’s spellbook, and just like the ones on the scroll they danced in multi-dimensional motion as if physical laws were merely suggestions to the hand that drew them. Kurohoshi’s speculation appeared to be dead on. I blurted out, “Holy crap, is that what I think it is?”

Soren laid a hand almost fondly atop that spellbinding cover. “Archangel Raziel’s gift to mankind, preserved and kept safe.”

I heard Nick’s sharp intake of breath behind me. He probably had suspected what was kept locked in that alcove, but confirmation was still a shock.

“How did you get here?” I demanded to know. “Did you portal in?”

“Of course.”

“Jordan!” Nick shouted again. “We can’t let him take that book! He’ll be unstoppable!”

Nick was right. But within the straitjacketed girl still held so tightly in my arms a spirit continued to decay. A strong intuition kicked my gut. She wasn’t going to last long, she had maybe hours before there would be nothing left of her to save.

“Nick, can you heal an angel’s spirit? Restore hope where there is none?” I asked while keeping eyes firmly locked on Soren.

“What?”

“Answer the question.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then shut up.”

He went silent.

I stared at Soren meaningfully, but he shook his head sadly as he took in the condition of the girl in my arms. “There is nothing I can do, even with this tome. It pains me to admit it but Kokabiel is too far gone. Her sand is quickly running out.”

Kokabiel. At least now I had a name. “I don’t buy that!” I growled. “I need to get her to Whateley. I had thought of trying to step across into spirit and back into my room there, but I don’t think I can carry her across. At least not physically. And if I were to pull her spirit out again, I think it would shred into a billion pieces in the process.”

He agreed. “The great barrier is still intact and she is manifest as human. While you’ve opened passage for yourself, that path would be denied her.”

“Can you portal us?”

Nick, guessing my intention, protested faster than Soren could respond. “You can’t be serious! That book is so dangerous it’s not even funny!”

Pulsing with energy, I threw a glare at the mage. “As dangerous as the scroll you sent through the damn mail so casually? An angel is dying, Nicolas!”

He didn’t flinch. Without batting an eye, he said harshly, “Sometimes that is their job.”

Soren interjected. “If I may say something, given where this conversation seems to be going…”

“What?” I asked, Soren’s question interrupting the urge to kick Nick right then and there.

“If it would ease your conscience, consider this: I was the one who originally secured the book under the ground, long before the synagogue was built. Solomon himself asked this of me after reaching the conclusion that mankind was not yet ready for the knowledge this holy book contains. I have kept it safely ensconced therein ever since.”

“Bullshit,” said Nick. “There’s no way you’re that old.”

Soren smiled. “Solomon was a brilliant man. Using the knowledge gained from Raziel’s gift he was able to manipulate the barrier that lies between this world and others, allowing a man’s freely made choice to open a conduit. You have used his previous efforts continuously, Nicolas, every time you worked with demonic forces. Also consider, how else do you think I so easily and quickly undid the wards protecting it if I was not their creator?” He said the last with amusement.

“Because,” Nick started to say but stopped. “Fuck.”

“What will you do with it?” I demanded of Soren.

The ancient magus considered before giving a somber answer. “If I use it, it will be in the service of one thing only. To see your purpose fulfilled.”

“What the heck do you mean by that? What’s my purpose?”

He gave the girl in my arms a quick glance. “You are already on the path, but only you can decide to bring it to fruition.”

“My purpose is to save her?”

“That is up to you. I will gladly open a portal to outside the Whateley wards if you leave the book in my hands. Someday, when you are ready, we shall hopefully read it together.”

“I don’t want that kind of power.”

“Wants and needs rarely align.”

Now that was a statement I could agree with. Yet I still was confused by something. “If you could have opened a portal to grab it at any time, why didn’t you just take it back at the synagogue right after they pulled it up?”

He smiled. “Only the purest light can cleanse the corruption of the primal chaos. Kokabiel would likely have infected me.”

Oh. That was a good point.

Nick turned to the others. “You guys willing to let this happen? Weren’t you sent to collect that thing?”

Miguel, keeping the sights of his weapon on the target, replied. “Our orders were to follow her lead. And that’s a dimensional barrier he put up, so my fire can’t get through it. Besides, if she says he can take it, you really going to argue with an angel straight from Heaven? What’s wrong with you?”

The comment about Heaven caused Derek and Fred to look at him funny, but both stayed quiet.

I’d had enough. “Nicolas, back off or I swear I’ll shred that barrier of yours. My skills still suck, but I’m damn good at hammering things.”

After a moment’s pause Nick said, “You actually mean that.” The warding around Soren’s barrier withdrew. “I think it’s a horrible mistake, but go. Save her if you can.”

“If I can’t, I have to know I did everything possible. I just…have to. Alright Soren, the book for my portal to Whateley.”

“I will take only you and the child, if that is acceptable.”

Fred, sitting on the dusty ground and looking rather pale, spoke up. “We can make our own way out of here. We’ll even see Nick out safely unless he wants to bugger off.”

“Gotcha. Soren, you’ve got a deal.” I looked over at Kurohoshi’s team. “Guys, it was great meeting you. And thanks.”

Fred nodded tiredly whereas Derek grinned and said, “Take it easy, princess!”, giving a thumb’s up without looking away from the drone’s streaming view on the little screen. Miguel smiled, lowering his gun to make the sign of the cross over his chest before kissing the back of the hand. “Go with God! Should you ever need me in the future, I am yours to call upon.”

“Thank you, Miguel. Given how things have been going, I just might.”

Somehow that seemed to make the guy even happier.

Nick just stared, his expression now unreadable. I gave him a simple nod. “Nick.”

“Jordan. At some point we should talk.”

“You’ve got my number and know where I’ll be.”

“True enough.”

I turned back to Soren, making sure the girl was secure in my grip. “Do it.”

Without a word his barrier fell away. I had to admit his control of the energies involved was perfect, his magical working was incredibly elegant and efficient. Then again, if he’d read that book in the past what else would one expect?

With a simple wave of a hand the air nearby shimmered to reveal the gargoyles of Whateley’s main gates. A morning sun shone brightly upon them.

I walked forward and together we stepped across the world.

~o~O~o~

A cool breeze rustled through the feathers of the wings.

The source for how my life had been tossed completely upside down and driven sideways stood at my side in a dress shirt and swirling black and gold Jerry Garcia tie. The shift from a desert combat zone to the peaceful New Hampshire forest surrounding a campus full of children was like a dream, the dawning sun surreal in its sudden and temperate demeanor. I still had so many questions for this man who started it all, but time was running out for yet another child. A child only the unlocked potential that had slept within my spirit all those years could help.

I hoped she could forgive the delay, but I had immediate concerns needing answers.

“The other angel who fought Kokabiel. Who was that?”

“The angel Kalka’il, one of the Powers.”

“Before he left he said there was another Grigori on the ground. Did he mean you?”

A small smile. “No, not me.”

“But you know who he meant.”

Soren breathed in slowly and let it out. “Yes I do.”

I met his twin dark eyes with ones of fire. “Who?”

“I have found it best to let them tell others when they are ready.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“I have walked this world for a long time and in so doing have made my share of mistakes.”

“Am I one of them? You’ve uncorked this unbelievable power within me, one terrifying in its scale and beauty. From each beat of these wings is born a hurricane. Where is this going, and where does it end?”

The smile faded, replaced by an expression rarely seen. Somewhere, somehow, in ages long past a belief had crossed the line to fanatical devotion. He radiated that faith, total conviction shining pure within those brown eyes. But it wasn’t directed towards a god above.

It was placed solely in me.

He spoke as if reciting a benediction. “No matter what comes, never doubt that you are meant to be. For you are the answer to Creation’s prayer. There are burdens you are not yet ready to shoulder, but they shall wait. Study, learn, and rejoice for your time will come.” He looked past my shoulder. “Soldiers. I should go.”

“Soldiers?” I turned and spotted a Whateley Security jeep barreling down the road.

When I looked back, Soren was gone.

~o~O~o~

Lt. Forsythe drove the jeep. Instead of taking to the air to go to him, I stayed where I was. I had concerns about the campus wards and how they may react to the straitjacketed girl in my arms. Or to me.

“Jordan!” He shouted out the window as the jeep skidded to a halt nearby. “It’s a red flag day, you need to power down!”

He flinched as I glared at him. Power down? I had someone who needed help, dammit!

The other member of security in the jeep was already on the radio, calling in to Doyle and relaying to expect a patient. Oh. They understood.

I closed my eyes, pushing down the flash of irritation. When I opened them Forsythe had gotten out of the jeep and was offering to take Kokabiel and get her into the backseat.

“She’s physically unharmed,” I told him. “It’s her spirit that’s dying.”

He carefully loaded her in. “What can we do?”

“Tell them to find Evie Whitscomb. We need her. Also, this girl’s spirit is fallen. If the rabbi has warded against angels, he’ll have to take them down so she can come in.”

That news caught him off guard. “Is she dangerous? Could she infect others?”

I shook my head. “No. But I need to go with her if she’s to have a chance, and if I let go of these wings I’m likely to collapse from exhaustion.”

He pulled out a thin square package from the rear of the jeep. “Get in. I’ve got a tarp.” He must have had a ton of questions, but give the guy a lot of credit as he was professional and knew when such curiosity needed to be put aside.

Somehow I managed to wedge myself, wings and all, behind the rear seats of the four-door Wrangler. He pulled the plastic sheet over as best he could and told me to stay down until he said otherwise.

Tarps. Useful for covering huge stones concealing mystical artifacts and also ridiculously bright angels. They should use that in their advertising.

He must have grabbed the radio from his partner because I heard him yelling over it about not caring if the rabbi was at breakfast with the damn Queen of England herself, he needed to open the wards at the entrance immediately!

Poor Kirov. I’d disturbed yet another one of his mornings. Had it only been yesterday that I’d gone in to yell at him?

“Hang in there, Jordan,” Colin said once finished with his ranting. “They’re getting it done.”

Soon enough he had us turning around and heading back onto campus. No wards got in the way.

When we pulled up in front of Doyle, nursing staff rapidly unloaded the girl. The Lieutenant reminded me to stay put, he must have his own sixth sense because I was seconds away from saying screw it to the red flag restrictions and going in with her anyway. Instead he drove around to a loading dock behind the hospital, backing in the jeep.

“Keep that tarp over you and get in the freight elevator. Visitors are on the first floor, they’re putting the girl on two.”

What followed were the most awkward ten steps I’ve ever had to take. Have you tried to keep two huge blazing wings under wraps while walking under a tarp happily preventing you from seeing anything? I’m surprised I didn’t trip. Or accidentally burst through another wall.

Hey, me and walls have a history of difficulties. Totally their fault too.

Someone else was in the loading elevator holding it open. The doors shut and a woman said, “You’re clear. Here, let’s get that off you.”

I recognized her. She was the doctor who got me to a warded room after one of those wall-impacting events I just mentioned. And yep, she had those sunglasses on again.

“Did they find Evie?” I asked, fumbling to refold the damn plastic sheeting.

“Here, let me.” She took the mess from my hands and adeptly turned it back into a neat and compact square. Now that’s real magic. Placing it under an arm she said, “Yes. She was still in her room. Another student convinced her to come out, seems she’s been in there since yesterday afternoon.” She looked me over. “You look like you could use another shirt.”

Ugh. She was right. The hole through the various fabrics on the center of my chest was threatening to expose a lot more than I had realized. “Dammit.”

She grinned. “We’re going to need to put in an extra supply of spare clothes just for you. I’m Rita, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Rita. You know, again.”

The doors opened to the second floor and she led me towards the room where they’d brought Kokabiel. Being Whateley, I only got a few second glances from the staff or even the patients as I went by in all my blazing ridiculousness.

Evie, though, caught sight of the glow from down the corridor where the regular elevators were. “Jordan! Oh wow, you have wings!” The purple-haired girl practically tackled me with her hug, ignoring the blinding light-show which was my skin.

So I flared with relief at seeing her, okay?

“What’s going on?” she asked after I managed to wrestle her inside the room. Rita closed the door behind us. To my surprise, Rabbi Kirov was already in there.

“Rabbi.”

“Jordan! You were due to land in Aleppo only two hours ago!”

“Uh, I did. I took a shortcut home.”

He blinked behind those thick glasses, looking like a confused wide-eyed owl.

“I’ll tell you about it later. Can you do something to ward this room? I might have to get, well, even brighter.”

He refocused immediately. “What are you intending?” From the grime on his hands, he had obviously helped the nurses peel the straight-jacket off the bald child lying on the bed. I really hoped that wasn’t going to prove to be a mistake.

“Kokabiel - that’s the name of this girl’s spirit - is falling apart and I need Evie’s assistance to reach her. If she doesn’t accept my help, there’s nothing I can do.” I almost added that she’d be lost forever, but if I’d said that aloud I’d have started to cry.

“Are you sure this is safe for Evie?”

“If it looks otherwise, I’ll get her out immediately. But honestly, I’m not sure what else to try and Kokabiel doesn’t have much time.”

He pondered, then nodded. “Your room would have been a better choice, but I will do what I can.” Shit, I should have thought of that. I also wondered if he was only willing to let me try this out of an overblown faith that God was my backup.

That was a disturbing concept all on its own.

He got busy walking the room and praying in Hebrew, leaving me to try and explain better to Evie.

She had gone pale after seeing Kokabiel, her joy at my return having fled. “You want me to save her?” Shoulders anxiously bunched up.

I took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. “I need you to use your magic, sweetie. Your orbs of love, she needs those right now. Maybe talk to her if you can. She’s been through some horrible things and isn’t listening to me.”

“But you think she will if I try?” Eyes full of fear yet also of trust gazed at me.

“Yes I do. Because if anyone could understand and show her how to still be brave, it’s you. With your talent, you can reach her far better than I or even Louis ever could. She needs the love - and forgiveness - of someone just like you.”

“Why?”

I tried to put the instinct that had been shouting behind my mind into words. “Because after all she’s gone through, her spirit desperately needs someone to love. Someone special like you.”

“Oh.” She thought about it, looking at the unconscious girl. “Okay.”

Kirov finished his prayers. “That’s the best I can do without needing a few hours and either chalk or paint.”

“Thank you, rabbi. You’d best step outside too.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but his wisdom won. “I’ll be right in the corridor should you need. Though given what you are about to do…” He stepped closer to put hands on Evie’s shoulders. “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al ha't'vila.”

What he’d said was, “Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us concerning immersion.”

Immersion - yeah, weirdly appropriate.

He paused as if trying to think of a prayer to offer me, but I just smiled at him. “I’m alright.” He seemed disappointed at that, but left the room.

“You ready?” I asked Evie, leading us closer to the bed. I nudged a chair over with a foot.

“I hope so,” she replied.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there too. You’ll be fine. Though you may want to sit down.”

She nodded and sank onto the chair, keeping a fierce grip on my hand. Reaching out with its non-squished opposite, I stroked Kokabiel’s forehead and let the perception of spirit take over, willing that connection to flow into Evie as well.

 

We hovered in Kokabiel’s raw emptiness, my arms wrapped around Evie’s projection to hold her tightly and keep her safely enclosed in a powerful bubble of light. Pouring out love for her was the easiest thing in the world.

I just hoped that was universal.

“Where are we?” Evie asked, pressing backwards into me. “It’s…” She was stuck for words.

“Hollow,” I finished saying for her. “A darkness corrupted her pattern so thoroughly that there is almost nothing left. Nothing except…that.” I pointed out the tiny mirrored sphere lurking within the corner of the tremendous void. It still reflected all and therefore absorbed nothing.

She trembled and shivered. “It feels like when I get lost.”

“I know, sweetie. And she is more lost than you ever were. She was betrayed by those she trusted the most, after sacrificing to them what she came to hold most dear. Worse still, she feels she was abandoned by God.”

“By God? Was she?”

How could I answer that? “We’re here now. And if the source of my light is God, then I think it has sent us. Both of us.”

“You think only I can help,” Evie said slowly. “I am needed.” She straightened, her spirit mustering resolve. “Jenna says you can boost people’s magic. You should do that to mine.”

“You sure, hon? It might be hard to handle.”

“I don’t think I can project through her denials otherwise, they’re too strong. Can’t you feel them?”

“If this gets to be too much, tell me, okay?”

“I will. And Jordan?”

“What, sweetie?”

“If anything bad happens…just know I love you, okay?”

I choked up. “I love you too.”

Reaching to that ever-present source of power, I sent one last prayer.

This is the best I could think of to save Kokabiel, the best I could do to fulfill my promise. So please, please help us!

That done, I began pouring energy into Evie. Not all at once, just a little more and then a little more, not wanting to overwhelm her soul. She soon was glowing with her own brightness until she floated there in that darkness like a white dwarf next to a larger companion star.

She worked towards summoning her orbs of light, and in this place it became clear how she was doing it. She was calling forth her own happy memories full of laughter and joy, weaving them all into a compressed bundle of emotions and packing them higher and higher. But they weren’t as pure as one might expect. These were memories of love even in the midst of sorrows, moments of kindness shining through the tapestry of past pains. Flashes of all the times love had cut through the deepest of despairs and revealed a world that could hold much more than eternal darkness. There weren’t many of them, but the number of those memories had grown in more recent times.

She carefully scooped them out one by one and the orb between her hands grew in size and power. Finally she topped it off with the shining image of two spoons and a single empty container of Haagen-Daaz.

Tears of shimmering diamonds fell away below us and they weren’t all hers.

That brilliant spark lay in her hands, and she nudged it towards the blank dark sphere reflecting away all the light I tried to give.

Evie’s offering, however, slipped right through.

For a moment nothing happened and we held our breath, if we even needed to breathe in this place. The void remained deathly silent, except for the cracking and crinkling sounds from its existence continuing to flake off and fall unto oblivion.

Then we heard it. A soft and quiet sobbing.

Evie reacted before I did, pushing out of my arms and rushing closer to that mirror. Except the surface now held a single image: an angel with wings reflecting the immeasurable stars of the cosmos holding a boy dead in her arms, tears flowing freely onto the lifeless face of her own child. Evie cried out, “She needs me!”

“Evie! Wait!”

She didn’t and as I grabbed for her, Evie followed her orb past the mirror. Its surface pulsed and wavered as she too slipped inside.

The surface shattered before I even had the chance to panic.

Shards burst outward, forming a night sky glittering with reflected glory across the empty and waiting hollowness of this space. At the center of the explosion floated Kokabiel. Except instead of a lost child in her arms, she now held Evie. An Evie who had become a living orb offering her unconditional light and love deep into Kokabiel’s heart.

I reached for them through the newly formed stellar field cascading around us, but I no longer had hands. My source was burning with a sudden and overwhelming need without thought or reason.

Illuminated by Evie’s love was the last dim and fading ember cast off from a sun whose light had fallen to the suffering and sorrows of a tragic past. For that was the very meaning of her name. Kokabiel was ‘God’s Star’.

And that dying star cried out to be lit anew.

Already lost to the shining impulse slamming through me from above and beyond, the resulting stellar supernova carried us all away.

 

Tile floor was cold as it pressed against my cheek.

What the…oh. Oh!

Lifting my head, the world went dizzy and the hospital room spun about.

It wasn’t the only thing spinning.

Filling the air and darting through the walls was a massive swarm of Evie’s happy bubbles. They were freely dancing, shaking, and generally pinging all over the place.

But around the bed they formed a layer protecting the sunken-cheeked girl who was holding Evie in her arms.

Our eyes met as I slowly stood up, the reborn star in hers burning clear. Her irises were pure bright circles within a perfect sky blue.

“Kokabiel,” I said, awed by the beauty of that stellar flame.

She replied in a whisper which echoed across the room.

“The stars, they have a message for you. The light must speak with Sandalphon. It is so written!”

“What? Kokabiel!” But it was too late, the bright centers of her gaze faded to black leaving behind a terrified little girl. One who instinctively hugged Evie even tighter.

Oh dear.

“It’s alright, you’re safe,” I said to Kokabiel’s incarnate self, trying to smile as gently as I could. My wings were gone and I wasn’t currently a lamppost, which was good as that would have scared the girl even more.

Her lip quivered, and she whimpered. “Where’s mamma? Where’s pappa? The car…”

She wasn’t speaking English.

Evie stirred, raising her head. Sensing the girl’s distraught state, two of her glowing orbs swam closer and slowly sank into the girl’s hands.

“You’re okay now,” Evie said, though it was clear the girl couldn’t understand her.

Under the skin the soft luminescence traveled up the arms, spreading calm…and Evie’s love. The girl passed out, but not into unconsciousness.

She simply slept.

“Did I over do it?” Evie asked.

“I don’t think so, hon. You gave her the first peace she’s felt in who knows how long.”

“Oh. I think I’m tired too.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Then you should sleep too. I’ll take care of things, you just rest.”

“Okay.” Her eyes fluttered, wanting to close.

“You’re amazing, you know that? You saved her.”

She smiled but before she too slipped into slumber she whispered, “No. We saved her.” Entwined in each other’s holds, the two girls fell away into the land of dreams.

Within Evie’s protective empathic layer I was certain those dreams would be of peace, joy, and most of all…hope. Shining bubbles or no, the sight of those two lying there was enough all on its own to warm the coldest of hearts.

But I had other things I needed to do besides standing in awe of what I had just witnessed.

Kokabiel had spoken of Sandalphon. I’d done research while waiting for my flights. In the lore Sandalphon was the archangel tasked with writing names in the Book of Life. You know, the same book August had forged a connection with.

The book that could save Danielle.

I left to find the rabbi. If I was right, I could use August’s ties to reach the archangel.

Apparently we were destined to have a chat.

~o~O~o~

I found the rabbi sitting on the floor in the hallway sporting a beatific smile and singing Hebrew prayers to himself.

“Kirov! Hey, Kirov!” I shouted at him to no effect. Crap.

Kneeling down in front of him to try and get his attention, I heard a rip.

The poor green dress I still hadn’t changed out of had given up, the last of its stitching around the battle damage on my chest had let go.

I woke up the poor rabbi alright. By giving him a spectacular and sudden view of feminine assets.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, quickly trying to cover up.

Flushing beet red, he tried to stammer out words but failed.

“Dammit!” I said, feeling a giggle trying to rise. Throughout the corridor Evie’s empathic sendings were busy darting to and fro, and one had just zipped into me to erase the embarrassed anger. “Do you realize, rabbi, that I’m two for three for flashing you Kirov brothers? Anton got a fine view when I first woke up with these.” I laughed in spite of myself. “Maybe I should go find Gregory so he doesn’t feel left out!”

Immanuel Kirov joined in with a warm booming laugh, and soon we were both on the ground leaning against the wall while tears of laughter - and for me, relief - fell down our cheeks.

“How is…how is…” he eventually tried to ask, his shortness of breath making it difficult.

“Kokabiel? She made it. Her human self is sleeping, who knows what she remembers. And if I had to guess, I think she spoke Swedish. Evie is sleeping in there too, her heroics tired her out. She was amazing, rabbi. Simply amazing.”

“As are you,” he said, still smiling.

Yeah, that got me to blush too.

“My wards failed against that brilliance,” he said, trying to regain some modicum of seriousness. “I’m afraid this intoxication will have filled most of the hospital.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I grinned.

He slowly got to his feet, offering me a hand up as well. Yeah, I kept one arm across my chest to hold loose fabric over things as best I could.

“Doctors and nurses need to be able to focus,” he said. “We’ll likely need to bring in the next shift rather early.”

“Not until things clear up,” I said, pointing out a few floating giggle-machines.

“Oh dear,” he said.

I had an idea. Hoping he’d notice, I sent my thoughts towards where I knew he’d be, where he always was. Stuck within the tank allowing his radically mutated body to live.

Louis! Can you hear me?

The immaculately dressed Louis Geintz appeared besides us. “Jordan! And rabbi!” He had a silly grin.

“Oh jeeze, you’re affected too?”

Louis nodded. “The empathic wave overpowered my psychic shields. You being here explains the magnitude.” He noted the emanations still floating around. “Astounding.”

“I think we need to clean this up,” I said. “I’m not sure how, I was hoping you could do it. Doctors shouldn’t be laughing and all distracted while treating patients.”

“If I give these someplace to go, I think I can take care of this,” he pondered.

“Uh, where?”

“In me.”

Kirov startled. “Is that safe?”

I understood. Giving Louis a (one-armed) hug, I smiled at the rabbi. “I think Louis deserves a proper day off where he can unwind the same way many people do, don’t you?”

The rabbi didn’t get it at first, but it finally dawned. “Ah, yes. I see. Tvayo zdarovye!”

Kissing Louis on the cheek I said, “Go have fun.”

A strange expression crossed his face. “You could join me.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

His crestfallen reaction pulled at me, I had to explain. “Not because I don’t want to!” I said quickly. “But I think I know how to save Danielle and I better be sober to pull it off. Can I give you a rain check? Please?”

A soft smile returned. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Good!” I smiled too.

He gazed towards the closest bobbing orbs. “I do believe this will be the most pleasant psychic task I’ve ever had.”

So saying the psychic began scooping up and swallowing all the emanations of light and joy that could be found.

Louis was about to be a very happy drunk.

~o~O~o~

After explaining to a curious Kirov what Kokabiel had said about Sandalphon, he was instantly on board.

It wasn’t until the early evening that we were able to get everyone needed back together, despite my protests. Kirov and Circe had insisted on me napping the rest of the afternoon and also on not disturbing August’s schedule. She’d been cleared to go back to her cottage the night before and had spent the day trying to catch up in each class.

While I tried to sleep it had proven difficult. Dreams kept filling with burning bodies falling out of helicopters or getting splattered across highways from exploding vehicles. Then things would shift to watching fae warriors get cut down by a madman Cuisinart dervish of blades and slaughter.

Wasn’t too restful. If Evie could bottle those orbs as a sleep aid, she’d make millions.

After a dinner spent snugging a certain tired yet happy and proud purple-haired girl before sending her properly to bed, the crew gathered in my room where a lack of sufficient chairs became immediately obvious. August and I hopped on the bed, Isaiah stood with Kirov and Lodgeman, and Circe took the only chair.

August wasn’t too fond of the whole Sandalphon idea when I finished telling her about it.

“Are you nuts?!”

“Well, maybe?” I said. “But what else can we do?”

“People, look,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. “Somehow I swallowed that scroll and got all connected to the Book of Life, sure. But have you all thought this through? Like how I’m this Grigori who is not totally all happy happy with the Host because they were jerks and told us to piss off when we wanted to go home? Plus the ensuing kicking us all to the curb after?”

“But how else-,” I tried to say before she cut me off.

“Let me finish! Sandalphon is like one of the big guys, he’s totally on the Council! Does poking him in the face with the fact that his holy book has been compromised by a fallen exile sound safe to you?”

“She has a point,” Isaiah said carefully. “We don’t know how he’ll react.”

The rabbi chimed in. “Lore states that Sandalphon incarnates on Earth as a human as well, he walks among us with his feet touching our ground. This is the source of his name. If any on this angelic Council - which I would love to hear more about - would be sympathetic to the plight of the Grigori, it would be him.”

Isaiah frowned and held up a hand to add something further. “Tamiel, sorry, August did not intend to absorb the scroll. She could potentially use that as the excuse to talk to him, asking politely how to remove the connection without damaging the sacred book itself. Would an archangel object to such a reason? This could even be the safest action for August herself instead of it being discovered under circumstances where they might think she was trying to abuse the accident.”

August wasn’t convinced. “Dude, you have no idea how fixated some can be up there. If the Powers or Michael find out about me, I’m screwed.”

“How much do you remember?” I asked. “You know, of Heaven, angels, and uh…all that stuff?”

She shrugged. “Too much. It’s like every time I close my eyes something else from the past is trying to shove itself into my face.”

I sighed. “August, I know I’m horribly biased - I’d do anything to save Danielle - but is it really safer to pretend nothing happened and just hide out? Won’t Sandalphon eventually notice you dangling from the book? Either we ask him to help you, or we may need to try and figure out how to cut that connection to keep you safe.”

She paled at the suggestion. “That would be bad.”

“How so?” Lodgeman asked from where he’d been silently leaning against the wall.

A frightened girl answered. “Because the dang thing has entwined itself to my name! You cut that, and you cut me!” She trembled.

I wrapped arms around her and she let me give her a hug. “There will be no cutting of your spirit. None. Okay? But how do you know the book’s done this?”

She sniffled, pulling away to grab at a nearby box of kleenex. “I’ve looked. I’d been drawing my name, remember? So I wanted to see it more clearly for myself, even if it’s all faded because of being kicked out. There are these new lines of energy woven through it, and they all flow towards the book! I’m afraid it’s trying to rewrite me!”

We all gawked at her, trying to understand the implications. And I couldn’t help it, the flashlights in the eyeballs kicked on to take a peek.

Holy shit. The old and diminished symbol for Tamiel which before had lain quietly was now pulsing and shifting even as I watched. Multi-colored strands kept pushing and pulling, as if trying to shove the writing into a different pattern entirely.

“Uh guys?” I said slowly. “She’s totally right about this. I can see it. The book is messing with her core.”

“That settles it then,” Isaiah said firmly. “Unless anyone here knows how to help her deal with what is happening to her, or knows someone else who not only can help but also would be willing to travel quickly in order to do so, our hands are forced. If the book is shifting her spiritual essence, it sounds like this archangel is the best and the safest option. I may have zero understanding of magic and angels, but this is simple logic.”

“I agree,” Circe said. “Both Charlie and myself have limited experience with the angelics, let alone what it means when one’s name undergoes a change. Nor does our good rabbi, I believe.” Kirov nodded to that. “This,” Circe continued, “is beyond the rest of the staff as well. Therefore we should figure out how August and Jordan contact Sandalphon.”

The girl shook her head. “I haven’t agreed to this.”

“Child,” Circe said, shifting to a much gentler tone. “Consider that the book may be acting in self defense. It is possible what it is doing is trying to pull apart your soul entirely as a safety method to remove your influence.”

“Oh my god,” August blurted, staring at the sorceress in shock. She wasn’t the only one who’d gone ashen-faced at the idea.

I was still gazing at the patterns, and I had to both agree and disagree with the assessment. August’s previous name was indeed being pulled at, but other strings seemed to be reinforcing different sections at the same time. They did, however, indicate a way to do what was proposed.

“Guys?” I said, once again biting at my lip. “I think I can answer how to do it.”

They all looked at me.

“I can see where the threads are coming from so I bet I can spirit us up to the book itself. And, uh, I’m a damn good beacon for getting someone’s attention. If Sandalphon can’t see me coming then he’d have to be so blind he’d be unable to read his own damn pages.”

Isaiah crossed his arms. “How and when do we do this?”

“We? What’s this ‘we’, Kemo-sabe,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. It was completely juvenile, but the resulting expression on his face was totally worth it.

I turned to Kirov with more seriousness. “We should inform Mrs. Carson first, so she doesn’t give everyone here detention instead of just me. And maybe move Danielle from Doyle to here within the circles like we should have done with Kokabiel.”

Kirov looked dubious. “Are you up to doing this now?”

“Every day that goes by risks something my heart can’t bear to lose. I may be a wreck when it’s over and I’m back to being human again, but while powered up I should be fine.” Mentally I added, ‘I hope’ to the statement, but hush.

Circe stood. “I’ll talk to the Headmistress and make sure she understands the pressing need. Charles can see about moving Danielle. Meet here in an hour and a half.”

That was that. In ninety minutes we were going to finally try and save Danielle from being lost to her next life. She deserved to finish this one. And hopefully we could help August in the process. If I said I wasn’t scared at the idea of ringing an archangel’s phone like a random telemarketer, it’d be a total lie.

But for my niece I’d pick up a phone to God Himself and yell at Him if I thought it would do any good.

Chapter 23 - Promise

Mrs. Carson wasn’t so easily convinced. Lodgeman, Circe, and the rabbi were summoned to her office to discuss things further. Something about taking too many reckless risks with too many students. She was apparently rather upset about the events at the hospital and having to haul in the next shift of nurses and doctors early on double overtime. The staff exposed to Evie’s explosion of giddiness were simply too useless to continue work, even after Louis’ clean up efforts.

Oh, and Carson was also not happy about the report of the said psychic being silly drunk off his astral ass and hanging out at the pub while belting out Karaoke songs for hours on end. Patrons apparently had become intoxicated simply by walking in the door, so a lot of them joined in for quite a party.

Honestly, that sounded hilariously awesome.

Charlie had already arranged for Danielle to be moved up to my room before marching to the Headmistress’ office, and the transfer happened with surprising quickness. The staff at Doyle might have been afraid I’d unleash another silly-fest on them if not appeased.

I’ll have to remember that threat for later, even if it would take Evie to deliver on it. Could be useful. Heh.

This left me, August, and Isaiah awkwardly sitting at Danielle’s side while waiting for the word from on high on what to do. And Khan was here too, of course. But he had finished eating and was now staring out the balcony doors.

It was raining again. Naturally.

“You should just do it,” Isaiah said suddenly, breaking a long silence.

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. While they’re busy debating and out of the way, go. If Carson or any of the Mystic Arts faculty had any better ideas they would have tried them already. We’re out of options for Danielle, and August may be in danger from any further delay as well. What’s the worst they could do to you?”

“They could expel me.” I thought about that and gave a bitter laugh. “You’re right. If it saves Danielle and they kick me out? Totally worth it. If it doesn’t work and they still kick me out, well, my main reason for being here would be gone anyway.”

August stared at the two of us, not quite understanding the statement, but not questioning it either.

“Exactly,” Isaiah said. “As Danielle’s legal guardian, I give you permission to try.”

“Yeah, but what about her?” I asked, pointing at August. “Don’t we need her parents’ approval too?”

That’s when August piped up with, “Uh, I called my mom an hour ago. Circe made me.”

Isaiah regarded her quietly, but I boggled. “What did you tell her?”

“Well, she was told about me being in the hospital after seeing you and everything. I had to tell her about some of the angel stuff but that’s okay, she’s Christian. A little weird, but Christian. She told me that she’s always felt I had a destiny, and that even though she misses me terribly she sent me to Whateley so I could discover and follow it. She said that if God was calling me, I should answer the call. I’m not sure she understood everything I told her, she just kept saying she had faith that I would find the right path. Circe even spoke to her and after they hung up she decided there was permission enough to do this.”

Wow. What a crazy phone call to have to make. “Huh. Well…”

“Do it,” Isaiah said firmly.

Danielle was unconscious on the bed, I.V. fluids still trying to give her body enough nourishment to survive. She looked pale and even thinner than anyone - even a fae - should ever be. She was dying. I knew how that looked all too painfully well.

“August, lie down too. I don’t know if you’ll come with me while I try to follow the threads, but brace yourself for if you do. If not, I’ll pull you in if I get to the right place.”

Obviously scared, she nodded and stretched out on top of the thick purple comforter.

“Stand back,” I said to Isaiah. He took a position just outside the circles. Making sure his toes were clear, I let go of the self-imposed restrictions and sighed with immediate relief from no longer holding myself to, let’s be honest, human levels.

Careful not to whack Isaiah in the face when I stretched out the wings, I re-centered for the task at hand. Gazing into August the lines of energy coalescing around her core were easily found. They were bright and effervescent, symbols swaying in that multi-dimensional language of fiery intent. As I reached out to connect to them, her body reacted to the light. Those ancient and arcane sigils started dancing visibly under her skin, flowing like living tattoos. On her arm one mark held still and allowed a shining finger to touch it, forging a bond between my consciousness and all the rest of the symbols spinning within the young girl.

That was something I was utterly unprepared for.

I screamed at the sudden agony. Not from physical pain, but of total perceptual overload. Within that thread lay a connection to every soul in every living being on not just our Earth but worlds uncountable. A unification of the stories of all living things, written into the tapestry of existence. I fell into that connection, losing pieces of self as I did, for the light which sustained me also shone brightly at the center of each spirit as an indistinguishable spark. Each spark was the same yet different, touching everything across the cosmos and beyond.

There’s no way you can be ready to comprehend such a thing.

“Oh shit! It’s too much! I can’t…” Somewhere far away a fragment of self was babbling and fell to her knees. But it was such a small piece. When compared to the glory of the Light it was but a tiny drop within an ocean larger than the galaxies themselves. There was a distant perception of August crying out as well, but it was quickly lost within the storm of voices swamping over everything: each soul, each spark, calling out in a cacophony of need, wishes, anger, love, and yes, despair.

My entire sense of self would have been washed away but a voice, gentle yet stern, separated from the tidal wave of burning prayer to speak in painful clarity, somehow overpowering all the rest. “Focus on your own heart and center, let it anchor you. Find the piece of the light which is uniquely yours and let it be the firmament from which you perceive all.”

My own heart? Where was that? Within. But what could hold against such a maelstrom? Thoughts of Danielle steadied the awareness. Thoughts came also of Tsáyidiel, Kokabiel, and Tamiel, all angels whose voices and names similarly had cried out in pain within the darkness of their own isolation.

The tapestry was filled with so many cries of need within that same illusion of darkness that I couldn’t take it. It hurt to see, it hurt to hear, it hurt to feel, such a beautiful existence surrounded them yet so many felt forgotten and abandoned because they could see no light to guide them, no light to give them hope.

Somewhere back in a small attic contained within a building full of children equally striving past their own pain for that hope, a hand touched a burning shoulder to offer the only comfort it could. The simple reassurance of not being alone.

Feeling that simple touch given with compassion and love showed a truth. No one was alone. The same spark lay infinitely within all, if only they could see. It sat behind every soul, every spirit, behind every atom, every mountaintop, and every star. It gave everything existence, fueling it all with a pure intent and promise.

A promise they just needed to see and hear, to touch and taste. A promise in whose embrace all their darkness and pain would eternally be washed away. A promise my heart wanted to shout and cry until it reverberated endlessly across the universe.

I was filled with the fire of that need and powerless against it. But I also had a specific need, a need shared by the brave hand touching a shoulder now in flames to try and keep one of their treasured family from being swept away.

It gave focus and with that focus the light pouring from within and without lensed itself into a singular shouted message.

“SANDALPHON!”

A hazy silhouette appeared and towered over the tapestry of shouted needs, hopes, dreams, pains, and fears. The outline of a tremendous hand reached down, passing seamlessly through all the threads before incomprehensible fingers plucked me forth.

I’d obviously managed to get someone’s attention.

~o~O~o~

The world coalesced into something understandable. We all stood in an open field full of wild grasses and flowers swaying in a gentle wind.

And by ‘we’ I meant the three of us: August, me, and somehow Isaiah. There was also a bearded dark-skinned guy wearing khaki shorts, sunglasses, sandals, and a sleeveless t-shirt. He reclined on a beach lounge-chair, a margarita complete with tiny folding umbrella resting next to a lime on a small side table nestled into the grass.

He held a book and while a casual glance showed only a trade paperback, if stared at directly it kept wanting to expand in size. I looked away from it quickly and was glad when he closed its pages.

My head still tilted and spun from the perceptions and understandings which were so immense a mind couldn’t hold on to the details. Not and remain sane.

“Oh wow,” said August as she gazed at the endless waves offered by the many-colored petals and lush green grass. “Where are we?”

“A dream,” I answered. Ignoring the guy in the chair for a moment, I checked on Isaiah first. “You okay?”

He nodded, but yeah, he was rather pale and clearly in shock. He held up a hand and shook it, muttering, “It’s unharmed.”

Oh heck. It was his hand I had felt. I fervently hoped I hadn’t scorched it too badly and somehow given him third degree burns.

The guy with the sunglasses coughed politely to get our attention, followed by a genial smile once he had it. “There are some days that turning the page brings quite a surprise and today was one of them. Welcome. I believe you were calling for me?”

Isaiah was too awestruck to speak, so I spoke for him. “You’re Sandalphon?”

The guy gave a nod. “I have that honor, yes.”

“We have a…” I shook my head and tried again. “We need your help.”

“I constantly listen to uncountable cries and prayers for aid, but I do believe yours just now was one of the loudest and brightest I have ever witnessed.” He chuckled, holding up a hand to forestall my next attempt at speech. “I apologize. Sudden shifts of perception can be unsettling if one is unused to them. I believe I understand your situation.”

“You do?” August asked.

He gestured towards the book. “I am allowed to cheat and read a little ahead. It’s a privilege of the office.”

“Oh,” I said, a bit puzzled. “So will you help us?”

“That depends.”

Really. What is it with the obscure responses from these guys? Raphael had been that way, Soren had done it only a few short hours ago, and now this dude. I wondered if they kept score of how often they could respond enigmatically to lesser beings and the winner every millennia would receive free cosmic cheesecake or something. Maybe it's a union thing.

I decided to take a stab at it, and pointed to August to start with. “I came into the possession of something I didn’t understand and when she looked at it, it decided she was cozy and took up residence. But it’s changing her essence, rewriting her word. If your help for her depends on something then either you will need to examine her or you’re going to do something like ask her what she wants to happen. Probably both.”

“The Book is an entity in its own right. Sometimes it does unexpected things,” Sandalphon said, and with a quick and easy hop he got up. His chair must have been scaled to match his height perfectly because the guy was tall. Like taller than Brendan tall. By at least a factor of two. He had to kneel down on the grass just to look a very nervous August in the eyes. His smile faded as he examined her pattern, and he actually looked sad.

Not good.

“What’s wrong?” I asked nervously. “You don’t look too happy there.”

He stood up more slowly, pulling on his beard before speaking again. “One name departs and a new one comes. The cycle of life is ever present. The Book is slowly modifying this Grigori’s word into something more, something capable of handling the energy requirements of being a witness to life.”

“A witness to life?” I asked while internally rolling my eyes. Cheesecake. Definitely cheesecake.

Isaiah was nodding his head. He’d figured it out. “A reader of the book. It’s preparing her to be able to read it properly.”

August’s eyes bugged out. “Whoa, really? What will that do to me?”

Sandalphon held the tome before him, placing one hand on top of it. “You will change and no longer be Tamiel of the Grigori. What name may come has yet to reveal itself. The interaction of having a physical incarnate during this process could be interesting.”

“Is it dangerous?” Isaiah inquired. “To herself or others?”

“Potentially, but not necessarily,” the archangel replied. “I would advise, however, that she restrain from any attempts to push her own will upon the pages. Doing such requires a delicate hand, as well as special circumstances. Otherwise she should be fine.”

“That brings us to our other issue,” I said, unable to wait any longer. “My niece. She’s dying. Even though her body is healed and her spirit was restored, her life is fading away.” Taking a deep breath I plunged ahead. “We pray for your help that her name be written in your book for this next year…and many years thereafter.”

Sandalphon regarded me with a compassion much like a certain dragon had done. “Losing a loved one is always hard.”

“She’s not lost yet!” I growled, flaring as I did so. The other angel didn’t react.

“Her life is incomplete,” Isaiah interrupted before I did or said something stupid. He must have gotten over being in awe of Sandalphon’s presence, because his tone was focused and determined. “It is not her time to die.”

“Are you sure of that?” Sandalphon asked, taking him seriously. “For it is clearly written that she passed from life unto death, from the domain of this book into that of another.”

My friend did not flinch, in fact his reply echoed loudly across the meadow.

“She is needed. And that need is now.”

Sandalphon raised an eyebrow. Lifting the book, he flipped through the pages until finding the one he wanted. His eyes went wide as he read, and when done he slowly closed the volume again. “I see.” He soberly regarded the three of us and his shoulders sagged as if suddenly old and tired.

“Will you do it?” I asked, unsure about the guy’s unsettled reaction.

“It will be done. And may the Most High have mercy upon us all.”

Before we could respond we were summarily kicked out of the dream-space.

~o~O~o~

We all came back to in the attic. Rabbi Kirov and Circe had arrived, and Kirov was sitting in my chair where he’d been studiously pouring over one of my new references. Circe had refreshed her protective circle on the floor outside the main set and was sitting within it as if content to remain there until the end of the world. I’m guessing living through that many ages taught one a lot of patience.

I rushed to Isaiah, wanting to see his hand. “Are you okay?”

He held it up. “I think so?” His skin wasn’t burnt but where it had touched me the flesh had turned black. Not dark tan or anything, instead it was now a pure obsidian that seemed to swallow all light. “Your shirt,” he said, looking at me.

Glancing down, I discovered I’d lost yet another t-shirt. The shoulder fabric had burnt away from where his hand must have rested. Hey, at least this damage hadn’t flashed anyone. Kirov getting a glimpse was one thing, but I don’t think either Isaiah or myself were ready for such a moment between us. Too freaking weird.

Both instructors stood up. Circe checked on August, the girl seeming rather shaken but otherwise alright. Kirov adjusted his glasses and looked to me and Isaiah expectantly.

I spoke. “He said he’d do it.”

“Sandalphon? You talked with the archangel?”

“We did,” said Isaiah somberly.

“Dude?” I asked him quietly. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I…I have a lot to think about.” Yeah, I could understand that. Honestly, the poor guy looked shell-shocked.

Impulsively I hugged him. “Thanks. You kept me from getting lost.”

He hugged me back tightly. “We don’t want that.”

From the bed a weak voice was heard. “Jordan?” All eyes snapped towards the source: Danielle’s eyes were struggling to open.

“Danielle!” I shouted and Isaiah let go so I could rush to her side. “Hon! No, don’t try to sit up, stay there.”

“I feel like shit.” She coughed.

Circe put a hand on Danielle’s forehead. “No fever. You’ve been unconscious for quite a few days and suffered from spirit-loss.” When I looked imploringly at the sorceress she gave me a kind smile. “I believe, however, that you shall recover.”

I couldn’t help it. Tears flowed freely.

Danielle looked at us all, expression blearily puzzled. “I dreamed of the fae…and you were there. There was a fight…”

Taking her hand, I said, “It all happened. But worry about it later, you’re back now. That’s the important thing.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m really tired.” Her eyes were still not opening fully. I looked back to Circe.

“She needs normal sleep,” Circe said. “And given the circles under your own eyes, you could use some yourself.”

Paying attention to it gave it strength. I no longer had wings and wasn’t powered up, and the nap I’d had earlier hadn’t done any good. The relief of having Danielle awake again was met internally by a sudden and total exhaustion.

August was standing there openly staring at me.

“What?” For a moment I wondered if somehow more of my clothing had burnt off back there, exposing god knows what.

“Jordan. I can see it!”

I frowned. “See what? The book?”

She shook her head. “No, your name! Your angelic word!”

That got Kirov’s attention. “What is it?” he asked, bubbling with instant curiosity.

“It’s…well,” August said, frowning as she tried to express in words. “To say it here would sound something like…” She paused.

“Like what?” I said in a strained voice. I was almost afraid to find out.

“Amariel.”

The attic swam, much like the hospital room had done earlier. The spoken name reverberated through me like an elemental rush of fire and ice. Steam from that mix separated and it was blazingly clear. The name, burning there at my center, was the unobstructed tap and conduit to the source. All limits had been burnt away, leaving only the single perfect inscription.

And I knew within Kokabiel and Tsáyidiel the name had been inscribed as well, connecting their hearts to mine and through me to the source as well.

I’d seen it before without understanding what it was.

Kirov recited Hebrew. “Vayo'mer 'Elohim, yehi 'or vayehi 'or.” He paused in a moment of reverence. In a voice quiet with awe, he said, “Amariel means ‘El has spoken’, or alternatively since Hashem’s word is by its very nature inviolate, it can translate to ‘El has Promised’.” He looked at me, his face shining with joy. “It’s a beautiful name.”

The rabbi had quoted Genesis. And Elohim said, let there be light, and there was light. God had promised the light as the beginning of everything, and somehow I was that promise manifested directly as one of His angels.

Shit, is that all?

Knees went weak, preparing to collapse.

Isaiah placed that blackened hand back on my shoulder, once again steadying me. Quietly he whispered the same thing he had said when first seeing me shine within Kirov’s office.

“Adonai!”

~o~O~o~

In the end Mrs. Carson handed out detentions like they were on sale and had been shoved onto a ‘these items must go’ cart. I was to scrub Hawthorne from top to bottom every weekend throughout the rest of the term, and August was assigned to the Mystics Arts building cleaning up the magic labs for a month. We also had to compose essays detailing all the crazy risks we took and why those were bad decisions. Mine was a lot longer than hers, and to be honest I wrote what Carson expected to find, not really what I believed.

That was a trick used to good effect in appeasing biased sociology professors in college, so I’d had a lot of practice.

Kirov himself received a letter of reprimand placed in his file for ‘endangering a student’, namely letting me use Evie to save Ester ‘Kokabiel’ Berglund. Yeah, they did manage to find the girl’s extended family and were still figuring out what to do with her. Given the circumstances, I had a feeling another scholarship was about to mysteriously appear.

As for Kirov and his reprimand, he didn’t pay it much mind and commented that “if it was always easy to do the right thing then it would not carry as much glory in the eyes of Hashem”. I wasn’t about to debate that with him.

After a day spent discovering all the homework I had to make up in every class and visiting a rapidly recuperating Danielle, I got back to Hawthorne to find there was a package waiting for me. One marked with large overnight priority labels and a ton of stamps.

It had no return address, but I opened it anyway figuring it was from Nick or maybe Fred had sent back Gregor’s headband devise I’d left in the backseat of their car. Unwrapping old newspaper (from the nineteen-forties no less!) I found instead a pair of black and gold bracers made of a material which the labs here later had a heck of a time trying to identify. I recognized them though, because I’d seen them - or ones just like them - in the vision of being carried away by the angel who wouldn’t let Aradia save her closest friend and mentor.

Inscriptions in that angelic script lined the armor piece, flowing words of power and defense which were becoming easier and easier to read.

A note placed atop the newspaper in the package read as follows:

 

Dearest Aradia,

I wish to congratulate your quest’s ultimate success in the restoration of the young Danielle Thorne. You have faced and conquered challenges worthy of the Host’s own mightiest warriors. Please take these as a token of my affection, for I believe they can much better serve you than me. They were found within the third alcove buried beneath the Central Synagogue under a spell which rendered them invisible even to the eyes of our fellow worker of arcane arts, Nicolas Wright.

For now, I encourage you to expand slowly into your new power. Remain at the Academy and dedicate yourself to such practice. By the time this arrives, the matter of the Grigori who has on too many occasions denied you the opportunity to study in peace shall be resolved. The details are unimportant, just know that he - and his minions - will be unable to trouble you further. The book you so bravely allowed this old sorcerer to keep in order to save another of the Bene Ha’Elohim shall make this so. I trust you will concur that such a use was worthy of our bargain.

Until such time as our fates cross again, I wish you well in your endeavors. Trust in the light and the promise it brings to all things.

Faithfully yours,

Callas Soren

 

Frankly I thought the bracers looked pretty darn cool on my wrists. I did, however, have to continually contend with a stubborn cat who took an instant liking to sleeping on them no matter where they lay. Yeah okay, sometimes I let the adorable fuzzball win.

Some days you just have to choose which battles are worth fighting.

Chapter 24 - War

Deep under the Syrian mountains two figures emerged into a large and empty cavern. One held a long flickering torch, standing tall in a clean light blue dress shirt whose rolled-up sleeves contrasted starkly against the darkness of his skin. The other leaned casually against a stalagmite in nothing more than cut-off jeans and a soft green halter top. She twirled a finger through almost-white hair, lips smacking as she idly chewed some gum.

They didn’t have long to wait before a harsh voice filled the space.

Welcome sorcerer. We see you received our message. The reputation of your resourcefulness is well deserved, we did not expect you to visit so directly as this location is not well known. And welcome to you as well, Alal. It has been a long time; your presence is an unexpected bonus.

The woman shrugged and blew a pink bubble. It popped, the sound echoing off the walls with a sharp crack. “If you say so.”

Planting the staff of his torch in a crevice between the stones at his feet, the man said nothing. The small light cast long shadows behind him, the rock in the walls glittering and reflecting from several veins of precious wandering metals.

Sorcerer. It has come to our attention you have recovered an item which we have need of. It is our desire to bargain with the legendary Callas Soren for its possession.

“The book,” Soren said. “Be clear, Grigori. You wish to possess the blessed archangel’s gift.”

Alal snorted, but didn’t otherwise interrupt.

Yes. Within that tome lies the key to our freedom. Name your price and it is yours.

“Before we get to things such as price, I believe you have a different and long pending discussion which should take priority.” Soren took a step back, gesturing for Alal to go ahead.

Long platinum hair bounced as the woman walked to the wall before them, running fingertips along its surface. The stones reacted to her presence and touch, ancient golden script catching fire and glowing in defense against a perceived threat.

“Oh Azazel,” Alal said wistfully. “You’ve been such a naughty, naughty boy.”

Archon.

“Do you know why I agreed to help you? Remember? Back when the humans scrambled pitifully in the dirt in their attempts to recover from the catastrophes inflicted upon them by those who had held all the power.”

You hate the Host, as we do.

“The Host? Oh no, one never hates the tools of the enemy. One hates the enemy directly. And I filled you with enough raw chaos to shatter the very seat his holy buttocks continuously caress, if only you’d had the balls to take the fight to his hall!” Smoky eyes flashed as a finger more purposefully followed the trail of a specific set of burning symbols.

We were building an army. It was discovered before we could deploy.

“And what kind of army was that? Ah yes, one bound entirely to your pathetic will. When we met you claimed you wanted freedom, and when given its means what did you do? Set yourself up to be a tyrant, one perhaps even worse than that father of yours. I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised, chip off the old block and all that. Instead of striking directly at the heart you waffled and with my gift tried to hold this pathetic world hostage.”

Alal, the Powers, they were…wait, what are you doing?

She had paused her scan across the wall, finding whatever she’d been looking for before pressing an open palm against the stone. The holy script warped around her hand, refusing to come in contact. “What am I doing? Expressing my disappointment. For that which was once given can also be taken away.”

Her bare arm became awash with flowing darkness. Like a fountain filmed in reverse the maddening energies of chaos spilled out from every nook and cranny of the stone ediface, weaving around the now-burning angelic script to spill towards the waiting limb sucking it all in. The entire wall flared brightly as the angelic script reacted to its opposite energies, but the writing remained entirely intact.

No! Archon! Without the chaos, without its path through the bindings, we will be forever blind! We asked to be free and you are consigning us to an eternal and empty prison! Shemyaza! Brother, hear us!

Alal, lips twisted into a smile made all the more cruel by her otherwise unearthly beauty, laughed. “You think your brother will save you? Foolish Grigori, he has yet to fully awaken in spite of your attempts to influence his dreams. And he is far too busy to need concern himself with you. In fact, I bet he is in class right now being oh so studious!”

Why? We are so close to victory! The field has never been so ripe for harvest, we can raise billions to conquer Heaven! Just as you hoped for, the Throne can be destroyed! Why do this now when all is within reach? Already the first pillar has fallen!”

The cruel smile dropped away leaving behind a mask of rage and bitter hatred. “Because, Grigori! I have seen a spark returned containing the full potential to inherit my father’s legacy. And what did you do? You bent yourself to its destruction! You tried to kill my sister!”

The reverse flood of swirling madness surged. The Archon of Chaos ignored the continued panicked pleadings of the imprisoned fallen angel until the last few drops of abyssal energies twisted into her waiting grasp. “Save your blubbering, Azazel,” she sneered. “Maybe you’ll have better luck bargaining with the sorcerer, but I sincerely doubt it. Your track record on delivery sucks.”

Turning away, she walked back to where Soren had stood next to the torch. Its light no longer touched her, she had become a figure entirely of shadow. “I leave the rest to you, as agreed,” she said to Soren.

He nodded. “As agreed.”

The shadow gave one last look at the wall. “Goodbye, Grigori. If I were you I’d pray to the tyrant above we never meet again.” Not waiting for a response, that dark figure slid away as if reality itself had been sliced open to let it pass through.

Silence filled the cavern. Soren stared in contemplation at the spot where Alal had just been.

Sorcerer. The book. It can free us. It can reconnect us with our children and save them from the Archon’s pull. A new world can still be built, and you can take your place with us atop it all! We are Legion, and we shall rule!

Hard eyes turned towards the rock still glowing red from the heat of the disturbed angelic script. “You are but a sad pretender to that title when compared with the real thing. And the book was needed for a different purpose.”

Your price. You came here, you must have a price!

Soren continued talking, each word calm and deliberate. “Did you know that a physical human brain can only optimize itself for so many memories at once? Over time, say for thousands upon thousands of years, much is discarded and forgotten. The key points remain, but the details of things - places visited, words spoken - these fade and are lost.”

Is that what you wish? A restoration of your memories?

“What I wish for, Azazel, is far beyond your comprehension. As for memories, sometimes they need only a trigger to resurface. Like how reading an old text can bring to mind even the scent of where one was when first diving into its pages. If one focuses on that scent, entire vistas of thought and memory can be recovered.”

Closing eyes in concentration, Callas Soren’s baritone began to chant. Like a new stalactite hanging from the ceiling, glowing angelic script swirled to coalesce above him. The stones of the cavern responded again, this time not in revulsion but in glory. The script in the air burst into crimson flames much fiercer than the pitiful torch below and sent waves of heat cascading through the cave.

Hanging within that blazing scarlet fire was a shining two-handed sword.

Opening his eyes, Soren gazed upon the blade with a warm smile.

Callas! What are you doing? Don’t! If you touch that…

Ignoring the Grigori, Soren reached up and grasped the hilt, welcoming the red flames that roared outward to consume him.

Except the flames did not kill. Instead they transformed.

With a shout of triumph, wings drenched long ago in the red of angelic vitae spread out to fill the cavern.

You! It cannot be!

An angel of blood and fire stepped towards the wall of waiting holy script, raising the fiery implement of divine warfare.

Stop! I am bound by the will of the Throne, if you break these bonds you break your own ties to the Name!

“Should I fall, I fall only into her arms of light.”

But the Host! Once discovered, they will hunt you for this!

The archangel’s sword flashed outward to cut the bindings tying the Grigori to this world, and with that flaming blow sent it screaming in agony towards the Abyss. The rocks and stones shattered from the impact as the heavenly energy bound into the imprisoning script ripped free, sending the earth into paroxysms that rocked the mountains and plains across the cradle of civilization.

To the one burning within crimson flames as it fell into realms of eternal twilight, the Archangel Camael sent a final message:

“Let them come and see.”

 

Continued in Book 3, Call Of The Light