Call Of The Light (Part 1 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 1 - Loss

He had been there long enough to establish a regular routine.

Early mornings were Turkish coffee sipped ever so slowly at the corner table in the hotel’s small cafe with a breakfast of cheese, bread, and olives followed by a small confectionery. After a perfunctory nod to the proprietors it was out to wander down by the beach in a battered beige coat with more pockets of various size than fashion sense would ever allow. Safely out of earshot those he passed by would whisper that he must be touched by the Jinn for clearly he was no tourist as he took no pictures nor troubled anyone for directions to the local sights. At dusk he would walk the Black Sea’s coastline without regard for the rain falling from dark clouds nor for the magnificent view when the sun broke free and shone its glory across the waters.

He paid their odd glances no mind for his was entirely elsewhere. And besides, if he had bothered to consider their commentary he would have immediately agreed with them.

Nicolas ‘Nick’ Wright, erstwhile demonologist and magical consultant, was indeed touched. But not by the fabled fiery Jinn.

His problems lay entirely with angels.

In the dimly lit rented room from which he emerged each morning upon a dark wooden desk which had been patched together from planks older than the hotel itself lay two slips of paper. The first was a scrap torn hastily from its former spiral-bound home with a single long number scribbled across in a barely legible excuse for penmanship. The other, by contrast, was of standard business card stock where a neat and tidy professionally embossed font provided not only a number but also a name.

One lead to an angel he knew to be real and not imagined for he had witnessed firsthand her light and glory. The second had been given him by someone who had gone to a lot of trouble to convince him that she too was angelic but no longer of that light and far more worldly and deadly practical.

Mind you he was no stranger to mythic beings. He had once studied in depth the nature of the demons who lived in the various Hells and gained through much pain and sacrifice a sense for their presence, methods, and limitations. To learn powers sufficient to face and defeat them he had buried himself in the ways of mystics and hermeticists. He had achieved a great number of successes against such terrible foes. Also many failures. High were the prices paid for both.

Angels however were of a different order entirely. They played by their own rules, had their own factions, and what limits they may or may not have was never described with any clarity in any of the ancient tomes lent him by former mentors. Only conjecture. Only speculation.

Only legends.

Instincts of self-preservation kept pleading to grab up both slips of paper and toss them into the large cast-iron oven which provided all the heat and cooking for the entire, albeit small, hotel. Those inner warning bells begged him to simply flee this place and find a cozier and more remote retreat from which to safely sit out the madness which was encroaching upon the world. But the thick rolling clouds which built up in the sky every evening like a blanket trying to smother the setting sun brought with them each night the same dream.

No sooner would his head sink into the somewhat musty feathered pillows then the rains would come, pounding watery protest against a window crookedly wedged between ancient bricks. Thunder billowing forth from the sea rattled against the frame, calling out with a booming voice the echoes of a tempest the likes of which no one in the world had yet witnessed.

A dream wherein his furious anger and bitter sorrow summoned a hurricane to blast its wind-blown torrential pain across an ancient land.

 

Forty days and forty nights had he maintained the focus required to gather moisture from far distant oceans into the skies, leading over-saturated clouds across the firmament to release their burdens upon the plains of battle, turning earth to mud to confound and halt the enemy’s nightmare-forged war-chariots of twisted metal and magic. The nearby fresh-water lake over-flowed, spilling itself through the fishing villages, washing away the foundations of the enemy’s many fortifications as the forces of an alliance of angels, gods, and mystic creatures fought their way to the gates of the towering citadel where his corrupted brothers had attempted to found an empire with which to conquer this world and beyond.

His children had joined that alliance, risking their lives against brethren lost to chaos’ corruption in the hope that their efforts would redeem their existences in the eyes of those who had come from far above to judge.

But the cries that reached the clouds busy expunging their heavy watery burdens shifted from the sounds of battle and blood to panic and despair. Dropping through and below the lightning-sparked mists revealed why.

A moving mountain of water stretching from horizon to horizon was washing away all before it be they ally or foe.

“No!” Electricity and thunder responded to his shouted dismay as grey wings fought the winds to reach down to those who had no hope against the foaming tsunami’s wrath, madly scrambling for the power to push aside the watery death sweeping away all.

A line of crimson metal and brilliant fire stopped him short, glistening against his exposed neck as his wings beat fervently backwards to keep skin from impaling itself on the razor’s edge of the blade. A single bracer-clad arm belonging to one whose wings were once stained by rivers of angelic blood held the sword steady and immovable. The matching bracer pressed against its owner’s broad and armored chest a golden-haired woman whose expression beneath her cloth-bound eyes reflected the pain of those below.

“Camael!” he shouted at the owner of the sword of flame. “What madness is this! Has Shemyaza shattered the cliffs holding back the sea?”

The fire at his throat wavered not. “This must be, Barakiel. The Lord Azrael unleashed the oceans to cleanse the sins of the Grigori from the Earth.”

Panic and confusion sparked readily into inner inferno. “What are you saying? We had an understanding! We and our children agreed to fight with you against the corruptions!”

The crimson warrior was unmoved. “The deal stands. The Grigori were promised this path to avoid the shores of Hell and to prevent the abominations of the Nephelim from being erased entirely from existence.”

Beyond the wall of tumultuous water which continued to scour the landscape hundreds of angels swooped from out of the clouds, cutting down any from below with the means to fly and escape the destruction smothering all. Camael, Regent of Light and Prince of Heaven, had unleashed the might of those known as the Powers unto the world.

“You’re slaughtering them!” Anguish boiled the rage which gathered a multitude of sparks within the surrounding storm-churned clouds.

“Their physical shells must end. The spirits of those who assisted the side of Heaven shall be bound unto mortality and join this world as naught but human. Those who opposed shall be consigned to limbo for eternity.”

Barakiel felt the fabric of the world’s pattern twist and harden. A mighty working forged by those who controlled the boundaries between physical and spirit that define what is life and what is death slid outward to cover the four corners of the world. Gabriel and Azrael had sealed the paths to beyond.

All were now trapped.

Barakiel’s chest burned as he cried, “Many of our children’s spirits cannot exist without physical bodies to give them anchor! Their spirits won’t survive long enough to incarnate!”

“Proof then that they should never have been.”

A distant wail impinged his senses like a clash of cymbals cutting across an orchestra of pain. His daughter Betenos, trapped under the waves, had reached out to beg her heavenly father to save her, to save them all. She cried out to the Most High for a mercy her father now understood could never come.

“You claim we Grigori lost our way!” Barakiel shouted with every sinew and feather shaking with a fury the likes of which he had never known. “And yet it is you who betray us! Hear me, Camael! The one whose seat you guard was right to abandon it and cloak in shadow the glory of what was once so bright! And if Heaven continues along this path the Throne will have provided proof of the Rebel’s argument in full!”

So saying Barakiel, Archangel of the Grigori and ruler of Lightning and Storm, unleashed the electric potential gathered above towards the hand holding the burning crimson blade of Heaven’s wrath. He knew it would be at best a distraction against one of the Host’s mightiest champions yet he had no choice but to try.

His daughter needed him.

Diving past to reach for that lightning and ride it down into the waves below, he never saw the sword’s swiftness as its flames flashed past in the time between moments. The impact of the water barely slowed his fall as he plunged below the watery maelstrom.

His wings hit those waves a full second behind. There they floated alone for they had been sliced free.

From a distance below a last message from his daughter’s dying body and collapsing spirit plunged through his heart.

“Father! I love you. Never forget…”

Swimming frantically with arms, legs, and bloody agony screaming across his back he found her. Debris of wood and stone had pinned her deep under the surface, too much for even her own greater-than-human strength to budge. Gathering the spiritless body into his arms he stayed there letting the last of his own air bubble away from lungs no longer able to shift and escape into the realms of spirit. That path had been denied him by the Guardians of Life and Death. A path denied to them all.

The waters of the newly forged sea merged itself with his final salty tears.

 

He sat at the small cafe sipping coffee and not noticing it had long gone cold. A single piece of paper poked from between the gloved fingers of the other hand.

Within his heart a storm still burned and refused to fade. Putting down the coffee he reached for a phone and dialed the paper’s number.

A woman answered. “Balay.”

“Hello? I was told to call this number. For Ms. Sardar.”

“Indeed you were, Mr. Wright. And how has Istanbul been treating you?” His former captor herself had answered.

After an uncomfortable pause he replied. “Well enough.”

“It has been weeks. By now you surely have researched all the details comprising the spell-working we applied to you in the warehouse.”

“Yes. I have.” Sketch-pads had been filled with circular designs and covered with magical symbols, painstakingly recreated by the use of sorcerous memory enhancement and annotated with extensive analysis. The details of that working which had covered the floor, walls, and even ceiling of the place they’d abducted him to had taken a multitude of pages and even more effort to comprehend and decipher. After reaching disturbing conclusions those pages had met their fate within the oven’s flames.

“Well? Are you satisfied?” she asked followed by the sound of a sip of liquid and the clinking of crystal.

“Memories. The spell triggered memories. Not from this lifetime: only from my spirit itself. No guarantees that something hadn’t already interfered with that of course.”

“Stubbornness again, Mr. Wright. Yet you have called which means you have arrived upon a decision.”

“I’m in.”

“Excellent.” A pause. “Yet are you fully convinced of what we are up against? Paths forward are not likely to be pleasant ones.”

“They never are.”

“As I’m sure you’re aware the second has emerged and is free. A man of your talents would surely have noticed. We believe your former mentor was able to use the Book of Raziel to accomplish this though neither would likely have survived the result. If not for the primary’s foolish bargaining away of the tome for such a hopeless cause this all could have been avoided.” She sighed bitterly. “Callas Soren’s work is sadly accomplished - may his soul find its peace. To stop the chain now every effort must be focused on the others.”

“Just tell me what you need.”

“Information, Mr. Wright. You know the primary: you know where and who she is. The others will have flocked to her side already whether they realize it or not. The tapestry’s pattern will demand such and weave them closely into her life. Study of one should reveal the rest.”

He took the time to swallow one last cold sip. Outside beyond the window waters calmly lapped against the shore.

She interrupted his silence. “Need I remind you,” she continued quietly, “of where we will end up should we fail? You of all people should be quite familiar with that destination. Not to mention the great cost to this world and everyone upon it.”

Thunder and pain echoed within. “No. I understand the stakes. We will do what must be done.”

“We always have, brother. We always have.”

Chapter 2 - Processes

As usual I was getting my ass kicked.

“Again!”

Sensei Ito’s sharp command cracked across the gym like an electrified whip. With an inner groan I pulled myself up from the tatami mat to again face off against my opponent: Tian Li, the guy who kept tossing me around like a foam pool noodle. He stood there patiently with utter calm.

Dangit, I hadn’t even managed to ruffle his martial arts uniform. It still looked like it had come straight off an ironing board.

After having to readjust my own rumpled gi so the sports bra would stop showing we waited for the inevitable shout from the sensei.

“Hajime!”

Taking immediate defensive stances we slowly circled each other. Tian’s codename was Flint due to a low-level ability to spark fires but his true strength wasn’t spontaneous acts of arson. He’d been immersed in hand-to-hand combat since he was only a toddler and had developed a remarkable control over his chi - the body’s natural energy. He could manipulate it to boost his physical efforts and more importantly use his adversary’s flow against them.

Like mine for instance.

Growling with annoyance I rushed the distance and launched a series of kicks all in the vain hope to throw him off balance. If I could accomplish that - even for just a fleeting moment - I could apply my greater strength and take him down.

Unfortunately that technique didn’t work either. A loud resonate thud reported my face’s instant impact into the mat.

Okay so it didn’t hurt. At least not physically.

“Again.”

Tian stepped away after letting go of the nasty wrist lock he’d used to hold my hand all firmly twisted behind my back. From the peanut gallery arrayed around the mat could be heard some giggles and perhaps a snicker or two. The loudest were from my friend Jenna.

Dammit.

With teeth clenched I got to my feet and once again readjusted my gi. No matter how tightly the belt was tied the front kept wanting to open - something I never had to worry much about all those years ago when I’d first trained in basic Karate. But now? Flashing the guys with even the modest-ish sports bra was enough for their eyes to bug out.

And I really had more important things I should have been considering. Like the fact that on paper I should have had the advantage over Tian even with the declared proscription against using any powers. Without tapping those I was physically stronger than he was and supposedly faster. But so far nothing could penetrate the defense of the slender yet amazingly fit martial artist. He kept countering by slipping past in some unexpected way and my chin would make its reacquaintance with the floor. If I’d been allowed to tap the energies always so eager to flood my system I’m sure Tian would become just as familiar with the patterns of the creases and grooves lining the mat as I had. But Ito’s eyes and senses were as an eagle’s and any sign of power use would immediately forfeit the match along with triggering a fierce tongue lashing and extra exercises as punishment.

The sensei scowled. “Flint,” he said using our codenames, “Explain why Aradia is unable to defeat you.”

To his credit Tian didn’t respond with the obvious truth that I simply sucked. Instead he bowed his head, considered, then said, “Her perception is mis-focused.”

Ito seemed pleased - a rare expression for the old Japanese master. “Say more.”

“She plans her moves without predicting and countering mine. Her tactics are as rigid and linear as an elm - not flexible like bamboo. She has no flow and thus defeats herself.”

It was my turn to frown. Crap. I thought I’d been trying to react to him.

Huh.

Ito didn’t give me much time to think and barked, “Again! Hajime!”

This time I backed off, focusing only on watching Tian as we slowly moved within the bounds of the fighting circle. Perception, eh? Okay, worth a shot.

We stared at each other. I tried to catch a glimpse into what he might do: what muscles would twitch before he attacked, how his balance shifted as his feet slid across the surface, attempting to get an insight to his movements with enough time to react properly.

Tian’s neutral expression hardened with deliberate focus.

And then we were both in motion.

Have you ever had a dream where you get intuitions of what was about to happen before they did? Like you would just know that so-and-so in the dream was about to say a phrase exactly or (in the case of more violent dreams) that the guy on the left was about to pull a gun and shoot?

This was suddenly like that. Two kicks and three punches into his combination and I’d somehow parried them all with blocks and side-stepping. There was a remarkable certainty that if I spun and put a hand right there and pivot just so the momentum of his legs would sweep them out from under and the ever-so-polite-yet-undefeated dude would finally go down.

Two moves in towards that glorious and clearly seen combination and it all shattered due to Ito’s interrupting shout.

“Yame!”

The thought of ignoring the command was oh so tempting but dammit Tian had immediately shifted to break away in obedience of the order.

Fists lowered as I looked to Sensei Ito in shock. What the hell? I had him!

With a grunt Ito declared, “Aradia forfeits the match.”

“What?” I blurted in dismay. “I was about to-”

“No powers!” he shouted. “If you cannot control yourself in the ring then the punching bag in the corner is yours! Go.”

Confusion. “But I didn’t…”

“The brightness of your eyes says otherwise. The bag awaits.” An unyielding finger pointed the way.

With the rest of the class staring on I gave a stiff bow to Tian and another to Ito before marching angrily over to the reinforced punching bag hanging off to the side in the back of the gym. I ignored Jenna’s attempt at a consoling smile and went past Brendan’s own hardened expression which honestly bordered on outright hostility.

Something about me using powers in any way always ticked him off these days.

The sounds of a new sparring match between the next two contestants began in the background as I pummeled the innocent bag with a frenzy of annoyance-fueled punches.

Dammit! How could my energetic control have slipped? I’d worked so hard with Rabbi Immanuel to keep it in check but every time I thought I had a handle on things the inner pressure would grow even stronger. Thing is we didn’t know what it would mean for the world if that power were to fully uncork and it unleashed whatever it yearned for me to be. Would the world survive? Or would it all be swept away from the birth of a new sun?

And no that wasn’t an ego-driven exaggeration. Every magic metric they’d used to measure the potential of the source I was metaphysically wired into resulted in shocked faces and shaking heads. I’d heard one of the powers tester mutter under his breath that he wasn’t sure the galaxy would survive if I went to maximum.

Hell, one of the analysts had actually fainted after reading the latest results.

And wow did that source seem to want me to be more, to manifest more. Plus if I was honest with myself deep down I wanted it too. I yearned for that feeling of freedom and oneness with the Light, those sensations of being in perfect harmony with, well, everything everywhere.

Even if the thought also terrified the absolute bejeezus out of me.

The armored bag pretending to be my opponent was designed by Whateley Academy’s gadgeteers to withstand direct strikes from a tank’s main gun at close range. Its chain was some crazy reinforced titanium alloy crafted to take the abuse from crazy exemplar’s such as myself. It withstood the punches and swayed slightly as I laid into it, absorbing my frustration-fueled attacks.

Images from that fight back in Syria (was it really only a few weeks ago?) kept flashing by, haunting now not only in dreams but while awake. Soldiers burned as they screamed in horrid agony from the flames of Miguel’s power before collapsing into ash all while Kokabiel’s evil-possessed claws sliced at my throat. Mixed in were Tsáyidiel’s freshly shared and therefore imprinted memories of eons worth of torment all added to a background chorus of all of the spirits who had suffered in darkness for so long. With the Light I might contain the power to help them. Maybe. If I was only willing to risk who knows what else by unleashing the power’s desire to shine its cleansing flames without regard for limitation or restriction.

Or maybe I was just a coward hiding behind the excuses of a clung-to humanity that might exist only by pretend.

Afraid and therefore weak. Of no help to anyone, not even myself.

The chain above snapped as the links shattered. The bag launched with tremendous speed right into the wall behind which erupted into this huge mess of shattered studs, burst drywall, and shards of titanium reinforced ceramic wizardry.

The whole class jumped to its feet in alarm and the sensei again sharply called out my codename. “Aradia! No powers!”

But the fist that had just delivered doom to the poor bag and wall wasn’t even glowing. I’d somehow broken the damn thing purely with raw natural strength borne of frustration and indecision.

I sighed. “Well crap.”

~o~O~o~

After requiring a shower to ‘cool-down’ Ito naturally sent me off to see Natalie, our local head-shrinker and a former Department of Paranormal Affairs agent. Although I had my doubts about the ‘former’ part as it seemed more like she was simply on loan. Then again, with me being here at Whateley Academy she could well be on assignment under-cover-but-not-really to keep a direct watch on my shenanigans.

Not that she’d admit it or anything.

I dutifully marched into her office and plonked into the chair that sat right in front of her desk. Her couch was cozy and all but yeah, way too cliche. It was bad enough that Natalie liked to use a pen and pad of paper for notes during our ‘sessions’, if it got any more stereotypical I’d be tempted to kick my feet up and bewail some made up stories involving my mother, lollipops, and puppets named ‘George’. And yes before you ask, I did make sure to sweep the school skirt out so it wouldn’t bunch up and reveal things that it shouldn’t. I’d only forgotten to do that once in class and just the memory of the boys’ reactions was enough to cause my cheeks to burn.

“Want to tell me about it?” she asked after it was clear I wasn’t going to be the one to start the conversation.

“Tell you about what?” I replied. “That it’s slowly getting harder to keep a lid on things? You know that already. It wants out.”

“Mmm.” She peered at me through the thin frames of her glasses. “Does it?”

“Sure as hell seems so.”

“Alright,” she said that way which made it clear she would come back to the topic later. Whether I wanted her to or not. “How are things otherwise?”

“Oh they’re all kinds of hunky-dory. Peachy-keen even.”

She laughed and it was a kind laugh, full of real warmth exuding genuine empathy. You could see why she was great with the kids at the school. “It can’t be easy for you,” she said, “given everything that has happened.”

I sunk further into the chair, pulling in the knees. “Would have been easier if that damn video from Syria of me fighting in the sky and then arguing with two wizards on that truck hadn’t made the rounds. And the fact that all the copies mysteriously disappeared didn’t help either. Did the DPA do that?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. But I doubt they would tell me if they had.”

“Well when you put that along with the massive earthquake that toppled everything within a couple hundred miles of there that very night, Whateley conspiracy theorists are running at full tilt. Pun not intended.” That earthquake had hit ten-point-one on the Richter scale triggering a huge humanitarian crisis across the whole region. Entire towns were leveled flat and there were whispers around campus claiming that I’d somehow caused it. “With all the teacher-enforced public restrictions against me powering up in any way the kids have divided into two camps: those who think I’m here to somehow save the world or those who think I might destroy it with a sneeze. Honestly I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Makes it difficult.”

“Look, we knew I was going to have some issues fitting in. Putting aside the immense fun of swapping genders this has been one heckuva mid-life crisis of pretending to be a teenager. And these kids are just that: kids. Struggling day to day with hormones, peer pressure, and generally lacking any clue of who they are just yet. While this body of mine may look and feel young I’m definitely not. Danielle tried to explain it the other day. She said that while she could totally feel how much I loved her from just a single glance there was more to it which she found unsettling.”

“Unsettling? How so?”

“Like she was being judged. Or more precisely she felt like I was seeing past everything. As if into the secret parts of her soul.”

“And do you?”

“What?”

“Do you peer into people’s souls? You’re an angel. What else can you see?” She met my eyes without flinching. Two points to the brave doctor.

“Hey, I’ve only done that a couple times.” Like with Evie. Or Tamara. The patterns of their lives had stretched out in visions of tapestries made of light and dark, love and pain. Sounds creepy but was actually incredibly beautiful.

“That you’re consciously aware of,” she said as she tapped the pen against her notepad.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“You’ve described shifts in your mental state when you’ve opened up to the ‘above’ as you’ve phrased it. When your angelic side takes over.”

See? It didn’t take her long to come back to the central issue. “Think that’s the problem? That I’ve got a split personality and she’s going to come out whether I want her to or not?”

“I can’t answer that for you. Does it feel any different or better when working on your magic practice?”

“More frustrating is more like it.”

“Oh? I thought you said you were making progress after working with August and her symbols.”

A headache began to gather strength at the temples. Rubbing didn’t seem to help. “Yeah, about that…”

“Did something happen?”

“August stopped coming.” Right when I was starting to get the hang of her angelic script too.

“Did she explain why?”

“Yeah, she did. She feels awful about it so she’s been avoiding me completely ever since. Which means Ester is also avoiding me. She’s become attached to August something fierce. Oh, and Ester sits with those who look at me like I’m a savior or something by the way. Unnerving as heck.”

“But you did save her. And as I understand it her spirit as well.”

I shrugged. I mean it happened and all but it felt squishy weird thinking about it.

“And you haven’t answered the question,” Natalie noted. “What caused August to cease assisting you with your magic practice?”

“She was told to stop.”

“By who? A teacher?”

“No. Well, yes in a way. By Sandalphon.”

She sat up and her gentle therapist demeanor gained a sharper edge. “Sandalphon. The archangel with the Book Of Life. The one who restored Danielle’s soul so it could reconnect with her body.”

“Yep. Him. When she sleeps he’s been teaching August how to read the Book. And before you ask she told me she can’t tell anyone any details about that either.” Shifting in the chair again I crossed my arms. “She said that once he’d heard about her working with me and using her personal script he explicitly forbade her from continuing. To—and she quoted—’prevent the pollution of accent’. She got all flustered when trying to explain it so I didn’t push, but in a nutshell she said that I shouldn’t be working with her script as that’s specific to her spirit. That I need to develop my own version of it, sorta, or it could limit me somehow later on.”

“And how is that going?” She frowned, trying to process all of that.

“Lousy. I’ve only used the language in moments of stress without thinking about it. You know, when fighting for real. I can read August’s notebook easily enough but whenever I try to write my own symbols I draw a blank. Literally. Copying hers from memory also feels, well, weirdly icky. Sandalphon may have had a point.”

I stared at her ceiling. Someone had painted little blue flowers over it since the last time I’d come in. Huh.

“What does Rabbi Kirov make of it all?” she asked.

Another sigh. Alright, it was more of a groan. “I love the rabbi, don’t get me wrong, but I think he’s also swung way too far into the whole ‘Jordan as savior’ bit. He just keeps telling me to ‘trust in Hashem’. Like that’s useful in practice. Not.”

“I see.” She chewed the cap of the pen. That was a new behavior; I hadn’t seen her do that before. She even managed to dimple the plastic before continuing. “When we talked after Danielle recovered we decided it might be too risky for you to spend much time in this dream-realm of yours.”

“Of Gabriel’s,” I corrected. “It’s her realm. I’m only, like, borrowing it.”

“Along with all the fae who followed you back from Arcadia.”

“Yeah. They’re making themselves at home. Given the possible time-difference between Earth and all those kinds of realms I didn’t want to go there and possibly miss months—or worse!— back here. So I’ve stayed away. Tsáyidiel is guarding it while I’m gone. Honestly he’s likely doing a better job of that than I ever could.”

“I think we should revise that. At least once or perhaps twice a week I think you should spend time there. As your angelic self.”

I frowned. “You think that would ease the pressure? Don’t you think it could only make things worse for when I’m back here? What about the whole time problem?”

“I believe it could be worth trying. Talk to Circe and maybe only go for a few subjective minutes at the start so you can measure the time differences between there and here when you do.”

“Seems a lot more risky than what you usually say. Why the change?”

She placed the notepad on the desk before answering. “Because I believe that if God himself wants you to be an angel here on this Earth then neither you nor I can stop that from happening. All we can do is try to make the integration as seamless as possible. Locking that side of yourself up is not the answer.”

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. But I did spot the time on the clock on her wall. “Shit!”

“What is it?”

“Argh. I’ve got to run. I’m meeting Jenna for dinner before we both have a study session for Kirov’s class. He assigned us a group essay project on the responsibilities of superpowers.”

“Then get going. Come see me after your first visit to your…place.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

I bolted out of her office and down the corridor to the stairs. As I took the steps two at a time I couldn’t tell if I was running towards dinner or away as fast as these new legs could take me from the idea of God making me His agent on Earth in full angelic glory.

I suspected the latter was more likely.

~o~O~o~

“You’re late.”

Depositing the tray on the table, I shook my head and sat down next to Jenna. “Sorry. They sent me to see Natalie again after the mess in the gym.”

“S’alright. Hey, is that all you’re gonna eat?” She pointed to the small chicken salad looking rather lonely in its bowl when compared to her own pile of fried chicken, green beans, and tall stack of dinner rolls.

I poked at the lettuce with a fork. “Not really hungry. Eh, I think I could get by with eating just once a day. You know, like a super-model is supposed to.”

She guffawed. “You have about as much chance of gaining weight as I have of keeping my hair for more than a few days. The poor janitors have got to be annoyed with how often Sensei orders me to fight with full strength and the poor practice mats get clobbered with my fuzz.” Her power turned her skin to stone with an unfortunate side-effect. All her hair was instantly shorn off: head, arms, legs, and uhm everywhere. It really did make a mess.

I glared at her so she’d remember that powering up is why I got sent to the therapist in the first place, but she wasn’t fazed in the slightest. She kept grinning.

Jenna might have been the only one at the school who was immune to my stare, she was also the only one who still stuck close. Even Zap, my dance partner and heroic god-spirited dream-questing companion, had been keeping a distance lately. I mean, it’s not that the kids weren’t friendly but what I had told Natalie about the two camps was true. And yeah, that stunt I’d pulled by threatening Magnus with only a glowing finger really hadn’t helped things. Even if he had totally deserved it.

Speaking of whom, he was sitting over at another table with his friends pretending not to be watching me again. Glaring back at him always caused him to quickly look away with this angry set to his jaw so now I tried my best to just ignore him.

Whereas my niece Danielle had been enjoying her time having quite the opposite effect on everyone. She had rapidly become one of the more popular kids, accreting a clique around her which grew stronger every day. They were drawn in by her mix of youthful exuberance and flashes of amused ancient wisdom. Her group and Tamara’s - the school’s pre-eminent witchling - had, for all intents and purposes, merged into a real powerhouse of a group that could wield some serious fae and pagan magic.

In other words she was blossoming and it was beautiful to watch. Even if from a distance.

“So did Natalie say anything helpful?” Jenna asked between bites, interrupting my thoughts. She had tried to sound casual but failed to hide the underlying concern.

“Eh.” I popped a small tomato in my mouth and shrugged.

She pursed her lips. “Even I know you saw some crazy stuff over there in Syria. Heck, I’ve had my own issues just from that fight in the forest against those infected agent dudes. You telling her everything? She can’t help you if you don’t.”

“I tell her, okay? She knows. She knows I keep dreaming of what happened there. She knows I still don’t fit in here. And she knows that I’m wasting my time in the damn magic class too. Nothing works. What am I supposed to do, pray to myself? ‘Oh please Jordan-of-the-blinding-floodlight, make this bloody candle finally catch flame.’” I pressed palms together and looked towards the crystal ceiling of the cafeteria as if posing for a stained glass window. Okay, so the pious image was marred by the mushroom held aloft by the fork still grasped between fingers.

She snickered. “So you’re saying you’re denying your own prayers? That’d be a new one.”

“Who knows,” I said with a groan before consigning the mushroom to hellish torture by stomach acid.

“And whadd’ya mean you don’t fit in here?” She reached across to poke my forehead. “That just shows you’re a proper Thornie. We’re the misfits with all the issues. Everyone loves you though.”

“Not everyone.” I gestured towards the far side of the cafeteria.

“Okay, so Magnus and his cohorts decided you’re a fallen angel who must have done something awful to end up here. But they don’t count.”

“They don’t? They seem to do alright in math. Well, except Magnus: his trigonometry is awful. If he ever got a sine from God, he’d immediately go on a lost tangent.”

“Well he certainly isn’t acute, that’s for sure.”

“Definitely obtuse, don’t you think?”

“Aw, he’s just jealous he’s not an angle like you.”

That earned a moan, and we both giggled before tossing out a few more awful math puns. Because you know, we were calculating like that.

Jenna finally looked thoughtful and put down a picked-clean chicken leg. “Hey, Jordan?”

Around a mouthful of salad I said, “Yeah?”

“When you went to the whole fae-court place to save Danielle, you flew there on your own didn’t you? Like, Zap and this other angel of yours, Tsha… Tsay…” She made a face trying to pronounce the name.

“Tsáyidiel,” I said with amusement.

“Yeah him. They didn’t carry you or anything, right?”

“No, I flew. That’s what the wings are for.”

She stared at the bones on her plate. “Ever thought that maybe you could, you know, fly to Heaven?”

“Heaven?” I blinked. “Honestly, I have no idea. I can pretty much go back and forth from my room to that pocket dream of Gabriel’s I’ve told you about.” The weird thing about that is in order to come back I had to focus on returning to the magic circles on the floor in my room. Otherwise it always felt like trying to push through an infinite wall of jello. “I haven’t tried to leave the realm for anywhere else and without an escort or a map I think I’d get lost out there real quick. The way to Arcadia was all over the place and I don’t think those paths stay fixed. Not to mention the whole variable nature of time out there. Doubt Mrs. Carson would take kindly to a student missing months of class.” I grinned. This time she didn’t return it.

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Just, I dunno, curious. Hey,” she said, obviously trying to change the subject. “You ready for the group essay thing tonight? You, me, and Cassius.” She scooped the last bite of food into her mouth.

“Ugh. I guess.”

“Could have been worse. At least Cassius can write coherently and he’s totally smart.”

“Yeah, but he’s still a…” I stopped, not sure how to put it.

“A know it all?” she finished for me, clearly amused. “You just don’t like him because he debates you on everything.”

“Meh,” I said, not willing to admit anything. “Let’s get going. Don’t want to give the guy an excuse to be more irritating, oops I mean ‘irritated’, than usual.”

She laughed. “He’s as cranky as you’ve been lately.”

“I’m not cranky!”

“Grumpy then.”

“C’mon!”

“Melancholy? Annoyed? Surly? Give me a break here, my vocabulary isn’t as good as yours!”

“Blah!”

“Ooh what a retort! Worthy of what, three points in scrabble?”

I threw my last crouton at her.

~o~O~o~

It had taken less than five minutes for me and Cassius to start bickering. That may have been a new record.

“Okay, fine,” I said, hands tightly gripping the back of an empty chair. “I will grant that the law says a citizen doesn’t have a general responsibility to get involved and try to stop a crime. But that’s not the question Kirov asked!”

Cassius was sitting on the opposite side of the study room’s wooden table. He pushed a shoe against it and leaned further back, thin arms crossed and face scrunched practically in a sneer. “The question,” he said with a full roll of the eyes, “is to define what are the responsibilities of power. And I am simply postulating that the mere possession of the capability to stop a crime does not mandate its use.” He glowered under blond bangs that had kept creeping past the matching pale yellowish eyebrows and requiring manual intervention to get out of his eyes. While he was taller than me by a few inches I bet a stiff wind could launch him across a field. That was an entertaining thought.

Jenna piped up. “But isn’t he talking about superpowers though? We have special abilities, we can do more than normal people. So shouldn’t we? I think it’s a moral question and not a legal one.”

The guy curtly shook his head. “And I say there’s neither a legal nor moral requirement. Superpowers or no.”

I glared at him. “So if you saw someone about to commit murder and you had a spell that would stop them, you saying you wouldn’t use it?”

Surprisingly he didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’d agree the murder was necessary.” He shrugged.

“Ooh-kay,” Jenna said slowly. “For the sake of argument, say you think the murder was wrong. Given the ability to stop it, shouldn’t you?”

“Not necessarily.”

“What?” I blurted. “Are you kidding? You’re seriously going to argue that letting evil happen is okay? I didn’t expect you to be on side of super-villains.”

His cheek muscles twitched. “I am on no one’s side. Be they hero or villain. You all can piss off as far as I’m concerned.”

Jenna’s forehead scrunched. “But what if, say, it was your mom about to be killed?”

Blue eyes flashed. “Then I would use whatever abilities I had at my disposal to destroy the perpetrator. Utterly.”

Huh. That was interesting. She’d made him angry.

“So killing your mom is an evil,” Jenna continued. “And you would try to stop it. Is that a responsibility? To protect your family?”

“I would term it a choice.”

“Responsibility,” I said, “is the ability to respond.”

“Almost.” Cassius tried to return to his more dispassionate and arrogant academic tone. “It’s comprised of three factors according to definition. Having a duty to deal with something or the inherent duties of having control over someone is the first. Or the state of being accountable for a thing. And the third, which is what you just referred to, is the opportunity or ability to act. You both have been stuck on the ‘duty’ aspect.”

“Have we?” I asked. “Or is the rabbi posing the question of how much extra accountability exists by virtue of having greater power to act? You know the line, ‘with great power’ etcetera.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But just like in your magical practice your vision is way too narrow,” he said casually with a wave of his hand.

“Excuse me?” Fingers dug further into the top of the chair and the plastic creaked in protest.

“Seriously, I’m not trying to insult you.” He grinned. “Not really.”

Looking between us, Jenna winced. “Uh Cassius, you’d better explain.”

He got up to pace the length of the study room. “Kirov targeted this essay specifically at Jordan, just like he’s been doing with everything of note in this class. The rest of us are only along for the ride.”

Jenna made a face like she was biting her tongue. Dangit.

“You agree with that?” I asked her.

She smiled weakly. “Yeah. I kinda do.”

“Gah. Fine.” I backed up to lean against the wall, crossing my arms as I did so. “Go ahead Cassius. Make your damn point.”

“Thank you,” he said, totally ignoring my annoyance. “The truth that he has been trying to get you to understand is that you are an angelic Power. With a capital ‘P’. And you obviously have no concept of that.”

I snorted. “Yeah, sure. So powerful I can’t even light a match, let alone part the waters in a small bowl. Even you kick my ass in magic practice.”

That was true. Cassius had struggled at the start but was making steady progress even if he was still slightly behind most of the others. And while he also was a new arrival to the school they’d already bumped him into an advanced magic theory class. Rumor had it that his magic ability had sprouted over the summer and when tested for affinity to a path he had resonated to all of them. Every single goddamn one.

“Like I said,” he continued on, “No concept. Your attempts at working magic are utterly wrong because you entirely miss the point. Like you have on this assignment.”

“Then enlighten me, oh great knowledgeable one,” I said with my own exaggerated eye-roll that he totally pretended not to notice.

“Alright, I will.” He stopped pacing and spread his hands wide. “Expand the power level of your hypothetical scenario. Premise that you have the power to stop all murders within a small city because you were able to foresee the occurrences and be there in an instant to prevent them. Would you say you should do that? Jenna, let her answer if you please.”

Jenna had been about to say something but shrugged and waited.

“Uh,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be the right thing to do with such a power? It would save a lot of lives.”

“Okay. But you’re an angel so up the power even further. Let’s say you had the ability to incapacitate - mind you I didn’t say kill, just disable immediately - anyone within the borders of the United States who was about to commit a murder. Without having to be there directly you’d know it was about to happen and the potential perpetrators would fall over asleep for authorities to pick up later once you’d notified them. Would you?”

“Stop all the murders in the country? Save all those people? How couldn’t I!”

Cold eyes studied me. “Now expand that to the entire planet. What do you think would happen?”

Before I could think it through Jenna blurted, “No more war!”

“That’s one consequence yes,” he agreed. “But think about the people living in such a world.”

I tried to. “They’d learn quickly that making any attempt to murder would fail. And they’d stop trying to. And a lot of them would focus all their attention on trying to kill me instead. Out of total fear, if nothing else.”

Cassius gestured dismissively. “Put that aside for a moment. Think of how societies would react. What would change.”

Jenna considered it. “No more police for murder investigations. And maybe even no military. But would she stop even like, say, a beating? All violence?”

He nodded. “For the sake of argument sure. Take it to the extreme. Stop all crime. Or at least…” He looked meaningfully to me.

Yeah okay, I caught his drift. “I’d stop all violations of the law that I believed were really crimes. Some laws I don’t agree with.”

“Exactly.” He pushed those bangs of his aside again. “You’d be the sole arbitrator and what you chose is what would be. Societies wouldn’t have that choice and the people wouldn’t either. Only you. You’d deny them their free choice, their free will.” He let that sink in before going on. “Now in this hypothetical world let us say you did that for ten, twenty, even a hundred years. And then, for whatever reason, you weren’t there anymore. What would happen?”

Jenna gaped. “It’d be chaos.”

“Precisely. Mankind would no longer be prepared to deal with its darker nature as that would not have changed.”

“Wouldn’t it though?” I asked, a feeling in my stomach saying it already knew the answer but didn’t like it. “I mean, a hundred years without killing? Wouldn’t it have been washed out of all the mechanisms of society?”

“The impulse of a Cain to slay Abel would not have changed,” Cassius said earnestly. “Just suppressed, except in the few you’d have been stopping every day of every year because they couldn’t help themselves. The re-balancing of the world at that point would be a disaster. And once more the responsibility would fall onto mankind instead of you. They wouldn’t have stopped killing each other over all that time because they themselves chose to be better but only because you had chosen to prevent them from being successful at it. In essence they would have been enslaved to your will. That is not a path to growth or freedom.”

I shook my head. “The hypothetical is all well and good but I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Maybe not yet. But only because you’re so utterly clueless.”

“If you’re really trying to not be insulting, wow you are so failing,” I growled.

His face had lit up with genuine laughter which was, for the moment, truly good natured. “Alright, you got me. I was being an ass. Here, let me make it up to you. I’m serious.”

I wanted to stay angry, but failed. Dammit he might actually have been cute when he smiled like that. “Alright, how?”

“Your attempts at lighting a candle. What have you tried to do?” he asked, turning the chair next to mine around so he could sit backwards on it.

“Summon up the light and zap it. Focused light should burn it but instead it makes only a mess.”

Raising an amused eyebrow he said, “You’re an angel. What do you think the light you summon actually is?”

I blinked. “Well it is like this force, this intent, and uhh… this huge overwhelming love for all things.” That sounded so cheesy. Ugh, embarrassingly cheesy.

He was nonplussed by the cheddar. “Look, it’s not an electromagnetic self-propagating wave. Your light is not physical. So why do you keep trying to use it as such?”

“Hey,” I said. “I’ve tried doing the magic symbol thing: both Danielle and Tamara’s different signs for fire, all of that. Even August’s symbols. Pushed the light into those and… nothing. And I’ve set things on fire before when charged up. Almost entire forests.”

Jenna nodded in wide agreement. “Been there, seen that, roasted the marshmallows!”

“But what exactly is fire?” He asked, those blue irises once again so intently focused as if trying to will me to understand.

“Uh,” I stumbled. “When things get excited enough due to heat it kicks off a chemical reaction that generates even more heat and as long as there’s fuel the reaction it keeps going?”

“Okay, good. It’s a process, right? The elements used in magic - fire, water, air, earth - they’re all processes, agents of action. Fire turns matter into heat, smoke, and ash. Water in motion erodes valleys yet inside blood vessels it keeps the animal or person alive. Air moves, either gently to circulate and prevent stagnation or forcefully to blow trailers across Kansas. And earth is a process of continual renewal of the surface of the planet that also provides stability for those working within our limited time-frames. It also is the means by which plants can grow and thus all of life can exist. So how do their magics work? The fae tap elemental planes and summon their process energies directly, human casters either do that or infuse their own mana into the pattern of those processes to direct them as they will.”

“Yeah but why can’t I shove the light into those patterns and do the same?”

“Because magical mana and the light you channel are not the same thing.”

“I don’t get it.” I felt stupid saying it but it was the truth.

To his credit he didn’t take the opportunity to serve up another insult. He scratched at his chin and pondered the ceiling instead. “Think of it this way: magical mana is just another process, like its own element. It exists in the universe already. The sigils and the symbols, the chants, all of it, transmute the process of magic into the process desired by the caster. Magic itself is part of the structure of the universe, built into its matrix. Energy is still being conserved, it just doesn’t look like that to non-casters who can’t see the flows. To them it looks like something - physical effects - come out of nothing but that is not the case.”

“Oh. Oh!” Implications began to dawn. “You’re saying that the light is different.”

“It is Ex Nihilo. From out of nothing. Your light is the Light by which creation itself was forged. Throwing it at the processes of magic is doing something at the wrong level.”

“So what should I have been doing then?” I asked, my thoughts spinning.

“Where the Light goes, so goes reality. All you’ve done with most of your attempts is to locally make the processes of magic more real. It’s like solidifying the symbology of an equation, making it more ‘true’ if you will. But that’s not the same as applying the equation itself to make a change. I bet you could amplify the magics of others to heights unimagined if you tried, as their connections to the abstract processes could become more solid under your focus. Think of it as fueling their power, though that’s not really it.”

“Holy shit!” Jenna exclaimed. “That’s what happened! In the fight against the tainted MCO, it was her power that pushed mine and Brenden’s way beyond what we normally can do!”

“Really?” Cassius glanced at her with calculated appraisal. “Interesting.”

“But then,” I asked, biting a lip from trying to realign my thinking, “how would I actually light a candle?”

He shook his head with growing frustration. “You use your light to change the intent of creation so that the candle in reality is already lit.”

“But… how?” Damn. He was really making me feel like an idiot in comparison.

“Have you ever been dreaming and able to make things in the dream be what you want?”

Visions of the fae army being slaughtered as I willed their own dream realm to rise up against them all flashed through my thoughts. “Uh, yeah.”

“To you and to the source itself, everything is a dream. This physical plane is no different. You are an angel. Change the dream. The ability is hard-wired in, like an instinct. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

The implications stunned. In the fae realm I had connected to its very essence and through that connection worked my will on what was. Could I do the same here? If so…

“That could really work!” I shouted while my mind ran ahead with the possibilities. Without thinking I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a genius!”

Flinching so hard that his chair slammed into my knees, he fell backwards onto the floor scrambling to get away. “No! Don’t touch me!” He stumbled to his feet and with eyes wide with naked fear bolted out the open door.

“Cassius! Wait!”

He ran full tilt down the hall.

Jenna and I looked at each other, stunned into silence. “What the hell?” I finally asked.

She shook her head.“No idea. But that’s not the only weird question.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it,” she said with all seriousness as we both stared at the now-empty doorway. “How the heck does he know so much about angelic magic?”

That was a damn good question.

~o~O~o~

We tried calling Cassius later in the evening but he didn’t pick up. The assignment wasn’t due for another week so we figured we’d just have to wait and see him at the next class. But after review of all my (exemplar enhanced) memories of him in class or around campus one thing was clear: he’d been touched many times by other people without freaking out. It was my touch that had scared him silly.

Why that was we had no idea. But then again with all the rumors spilling around the campus about me who knows what he’d heard. Maybe he was afraid I’d somehow see dark things from his past from physical contact alone. Had he been abused? I hoped he’d eventually talk to me about it. While the guy was seriously annoying I sure hadn’t planned on doing anything to him.

When we got back to Hawthorne Cottage Jenna followed me up to my room to play with my cat. Khan’s exuberance at having someone available to throw his little toys around only distracted her for so long though before she finally crossed over to where I’d been futilely trying to throw words at the screen for the dang essay.

“The essay can wait,” she said firmly. “Let’s see if you can finally light a candle like Cassius said.”

I moaned. “Now?”

“Now.” Grabbing an arm she pulled me up and shoved me towards the four-poster bed that sat in the middle of the runic triple-circled protections designed to protect the school - and maybe the world - from any overpowered accidents I might cause.

There’s nothing quite like being told you had the potential to become a living nuke. Or worse. That wasn’t a rumor, either. The analysis by the school’s experts agreed.

Having sat within the center of the design while beating my head against my lack of ability so many times I could probably sketch the dang thing blindfolded. Every time I had failed the rings always stared back as a reminder of what could happen should I really screw up.

We moved the bed out of the way once again to clear the space. Being both of us incredibly strong had its uses.

Unwrapping a fresh white pillar candle from the box that Danielle had delivered the previous week (along with a note that said, ‘Don’t give up. Ever.’), Jenna placed it at the center and after pushing me to stand in front of it she stepped carefully clear of the circles.

“Alright Ms. Angel - let’s see what you can do.”

I hesitated. What if this worked? And what would it mean if it didn’t?

Behind the mental barricades I’d erected to stay human the tremendous power surge lurked with infinite brilliance awaiting an open channel.

With a sigh I sat down on the wooden floor. Change the dream, he’d said. Everything is a dream. When in the fae realms that truth was an obvious one considering I’d been standing somewhere other than Earth among beings of magic and fable. Of course that was a dream! But here? This was the real world. Solid and predictable, right? How could I see it any other way?

Oh.

Tian’s words about perception from earlier repeated in my head. Her perception is mis-focused.

Light filtered through a tiny crack in the mental walls and I gazed at the candle with that light pouring out of my eyes. I’d practiced to use the light within to see the spirit-side of things: to see the flows of magical energy that lay within the ground or in the spells of all the students practicing in class or outside when they thought no one was watching.

Now I focused that light on the physical, willing myself to see the patterns of what was solid. Of what I considered ‘real’.

The unlit candle pulled me in. It never flickered, it never changed, and yet at the same time I saw it totally different. Like looking into Tamara’s soul, this simple candle was also a tapestry unto itself - written in symbols of matter, of energy, and of the history that had brought all its components to this point stretching back towards the beginning of all things.

Things clicked and in that instant I saw it complete. And by so doing we connected: the candle and I were one, bound together by the interaction of that perception with the light of all things holding us in existence by its unerring and infinite intent. And with a simple effort of will I breathed a word in the language I shared with August - except this variation was mine. A word that touched the candle’s existence and nudged the intent that underlay its very essence and its entire history.

It was like changing a line of code within an infinite piece of software while its scripts were still running. And yet doing so felt like exercising a reflex I hadn’t known I possessed.

The effect was both astounding and underwhelming. One moment the candle was unlit and then in less than a blink of an eye it burned with a simple yellow flame continuing in a dance that hadn’t existed before.

No zap, no spark, no flash. Just a tiny flame flickering in the air as if it had been there the whole time because as far as it was concerned it had been. The elements of fire within it had no echo of having been conjured from nowhere.

Or out of nothing.

Jenna whooped from outside the circles. “You did it! Awesome! You go girl!”

I chomped on a lip before shutting down the minuscule power flow. And yet I could still feel the candle-flame. My intent is what kept giving it substance. Gave it reality. Implications sank deep to the bottom of my stomach causing the salad from earlier to contemplate a rough and premature exit. I stared at the tiny fire and felt my face go cold.

“Hey! Jordan! You okay?” Jenna’s hands were grabbing my shoulders. “Say something!”

Swallowing, I blinked and looked up at her. She was on one knee as her fingers gripped tightly, digging in.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy!” she said confused with growing concern.

“That,” I stammered. “That was too easy. Way too easy.”

“Shit, is that all?” She looked at me funny. “It’s just a candle. I’ve seen kids do a lot more than that! One candle should be easy.”

How could I explain it? How could I begin to tell her the implications? Because if I could do that with just a single and simple word, what could I do if I tapped into that overwhelming and seemingly infinite torrent of light waiting within?

How much of the world could be rewritten according to my will? Or for that matter how much of the universe? All changed to match whatever my own vision had provided and all as if that was the only way it had ever been.

With that inner font of light I’d been handed the powers of God. Perhaps not yet but as I gained skill and experience were there really any limits? And what would happen to the world if I were ever to lose control?

Or go insane?

“I think I might be sick,” I muttered while everything suddenly seemed distant and rather hazy. Scrambling to hover over the poor trash I was suddenly rather grateful for having eaten a light dinner.

Chapter 3 - Worth

Even for Isaiah Cohen it had been a long day.

He stared at the montage of phrases running across the screen and contemplated how best to rephrase their argument so that that even a judge who had achieved his honorable position before the advent of the Internet and smart phones could comprehend the legal nuances.

Not an easy task.

From across the bookshelf-lined room his legal assistant yawned, trying to hide the act behind a covering hand. Meanwhile the dark circles under pale eyes gave away her true weariness.

With a sigh Isaiah rubbed his own tired eyebrows. “Alright, Tracy. I think that’s enough for the day. Or night or whatever it is.”

“It’s way after midnight, Boss. Sun went down hours ago. But give me a minute, I may have something here.” Tracy, peering at her own video display through dried-out contacts she had meant to take out after dinner, muttered to herself as she scanned the text of yet another case ruling.

Clicking ‘save’ on his document even though he had already done so a minute earlier, Isaiah stretched before walking around the dark oaken desk which was the centerpiece of his home office. As much as the buzz of the legal world was all about going ‘paperless’, the stacks and piles of folders full of paper adorning its surface were pulpy testaments to the fortitude (and weight) of the printed page.

“What have you got?” he asked, looking over her shoulder. “Tommy Taylor versus the Government of the United States? That’s a new one.”

“Old,” she corrected. “From the fifties. Guy had a random warping manifestation ability of unknown strength and the DoD tried to have him declared not only a national asset but also a classified one. The government was appealing the Lower Court’s ruling in his favor but Tommy tragically died before the appeal was decided.”

“What happened?”

“He manifested a white unicorn that promptly stabbed him through the heart. What’s important though is that lower ruling is still a precedent. Our client’s devisor abilities may be totally different from summoning random magical beasts like Tommy but the principle involved here is close.”

“Hmm.” Rapidly scanning the case summary Isaiah nodded then smiled. “Good work. If you’re not careful I’ll sign off your apprenticeship and throw you at the Bar Exam early.”

“Ha, as if Boss. When I’m ready we’re going to fight over that and you know it. If I pass you’ll lose the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

“Not if, when. First try. If our newly hired and clueless associates can do it then you’ll pass with flying colors.”

It was her turn to stretch and stand up, her slender yet muscled frame forcing him to look up. With the Scottish curly red hair and sharp chin she had a striking figure and one he knew she put a lot of effort into. Given his promotion to full partner earlier in the year and the acquisition of his new estate he’d outfitted a fully equipped gym with the intent to use it himself. But since moving in a few months ago she’d been its only customer.

Whomever her prior girlfriend had been it was Isaiah’s distinct opinion that the said individual had been an idiot to kick Tracy McCormick out of her life. A complete fool. If things were different he’d have… well, no, things were what they were and she was what she was.

Of course he still intended to take her to the firm’s holiday dinner just to see her in a formal dress. His few glimpses of her nighttime club-going attire were memorable but there was something to be said for a proper gown and the air of elegance it could provide. On the right woman, naturally.

“Always a flatterer, Boss. And don’t forget you have that lunch meeting at noon with that guy from the DPA.”

“Director Goodman,” he said in a tone not entirely friendly.

She paused at the doorway to look back at him. “He was insistent about seeing you when he called earlier but refused to say why. Some other case we’ll need to pull an all-nighter for? Or related to your ward at that school?”

“No. It’s about my… sister.” He’d almost said ‘brother’ but Justin wasn’t that anymore. To say the situation was confusing would be an understatement. And it wasn’t a relationship he’d shared with his assistant because, just like the case she’d been studying, the whole scenario was mixed up with the government and involved classified information.

“Sister? Didn’t know you had siblings.” Piercing eyes noted her boss’ sudden discomfort.

“It’s complicated.”

“Families usually are,” she said with a tight smile. “Have a good night.” Without waiting for a response she walked off down the hall towards her own living area, one which had been built for live-in maids and cooks.

Isaiah however cooked for himself and a maid service arrived in their own vehicles twice a week. Just like the gardeners. His law firm, one which handled litigation for governments and some of the most personally powerful people on the planet, had offered to pay for active security guards but he preferred privacy. Instead he’d installed a state-of-the-art monitoring system which reported to the firm’s own contractors and also had built an armored safe room under the house. The security company was supposedly top notch; the highest tier of service included fully staffed ‘crisis management team’ response.

Turning off the lights, he made his way upstairs to his own bedroom suite. Once there he carefully and deliberately removed the gold and black cuff-links from the expensive sleeves, idly examining them as he did so. Opening a drawer of the bedroom wardrobe he placed the links into the empty and waiting slot alongside their fellows. Each and every one accounted for and each and every one in its proper place.

If only life itself could be that way.

A few months ago he had thought he was close to having that. After dedicating himself to his work, ignoring many calls from his best friend and brother-in-all-but-name, he finally made partner. He’d played the politics, sharpened his metaphorical knives against all competitors, and made it to the top of one of the most influential firms in the realm of defense and international arms.

To do so he’d put aside all other passions and hobbies and only here in his private bedroom could their legacy be seen. Here sat his prized sets of role-playing game rules and quest sources bound in hardback tomes along with all the novels of both science fiction and fantasy lining shelf after shelf. Painstakingly painted figures, now only coming out a few times a year to be dusted by the maids, sat behind display glass above more shelves holding completed anthologies of comics and graphics novels from much younger days mostly spent with his best of friends, Justin Thorne. They once had created entire worlds together out of sheer exuberance and ran through them to pluck the last drops of drama and adventure that each could possibly contain.

Having washed his face, brushed his teeth, and donned his silk pajamas he paused in front of a shelf to run a finger along the spine of one of the many gaming notebooks holding the hastily scribbled memories of those realms of fancy and imagination. He’d intended, after making partner and finally being able to insist on actual uninterrupted vacation time, to once again re-connect with his brother and perhaps recapture some of that lost magic.

Fate, however, had definitely had other ideas.

For his friend and brother was no longer the Justin he knew and in his place was the girl Jordan: young and beautiful, shining broadly with the strength of his friend’s soul but with a new emotional vulnerability and uncertainty as she struggled with all the changes both to herself and to her entire worldview. A world where God himself seemed to have reached out to claim her for things beyond all reckoning.

And it’s not like Isaiah hadn’t also been touched. The skin covering the palm of his left hand had turned a pure obsidian, a consequence of touching an angel in the throes of her power. Doctors had remained baffled for the skin wasn’t burnt or harmed nor was the color due to any overabundance of melanin. It was something else entirely that had stubbornly defied all their attempts at analysis.

Slipping into soft Egyptian cotton under a thick layer of woolen blankets, he stared at the ceiling while idly rubbing the stained palm. His once-brother was caught up in a whirlwind of events and no one knew where they would lead. But perhaps the bigger question was to ask where the wind had originated from, for therein lay the real mystery. For as much as the nefariously secret sorcerer Callas Soren seemed to be behind it, Isaiah couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow even Soren was but a pawn of something much larger.

Laughing at himself over thoughts of things mere mortal men were not meant to know, he rolled over to try and escape into the peaceful realms belonging only to the whims of Morpheus.

 

He walked between columns forged of marble. Each was veined with arteries of gold and black to cover the underlying ivory in endless fractals reaching upward. Tapestries stretched between the gaps, filling them with color and texture. Each evoked a distinct feeling, the symbols stitched into the wavering fabrics teasing at his perception and memory. His toes were bare upon a cold floor seemingly carved from the same infinite block as the columns, and each step made no sound.

Nor did the chasm-wide waterfall his feet had brought him to.

Light sparkled and caught at the flood spilling downward from heights unseen, falling as a tremendously wide crystallized banner towards a fathomless deep. All flowing in complete silence without a single watery note. But upon the vertical wave images flickered into view, countless myriad scenes taking shape before shifting into something new. Scene after scene illuminated his eyes, and to his surprise he recognized them all. The waterfall was displaying his memories, every moment of his life coalesced to play out upon the liquid canvas.

A voice shattered that silence, echoing from all sides and also within his own head.

It is time.

Most people would flounder before such a voice that cut with an absolute authority. But he was not a fresh-faced attorney stammering with uncertainty in front of a hostile courtroom, for those years had passed long ago.

He responded calmly with a simple question. “Time for what?”

To determine your worthiness.

Innumerable scenes from his past continued to spill and sparkle before him and he had a disturbing suspicion. “Did I die? Was it another heart attack?”

You live still.

Relief washed through him but was quickly set aside. This was more than just a dream, it had a solidity and realness beyond any random projections of his sleeping unconscious previously encountered. “This is my life you are showing. Are you going to judge it? To judge me?”

That task is yours.

Confusion led to more questions. “You want me to decide whether or not I am worthy? Worthy of what?”

Everything.

An image glimmering off to one side expanded, swelling across the surface until dominating the entire vision. A scene from adolescence, one with hovering concerned parents standing at his bedside in the hospital where he’d spent over a year fighting against a rare affliction. A scene filled with anguish, pain, and despair pulling him in, restoring to crystal clarity afflictions he had fought to forget and put far behind. Agonies which had carved their mark deep within as a hard core of rage never smoldering but burning still with fierce flames.

Now we begin.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 4 - Perception

“Come in!”

I opened the door to find August sitting hunched with concentration at a desk strewn with textbooks and graph paper. Curfew at the cottages would kick in soon but as I knew she usually stayed up late I had figured she wouldn’t mind a visit before time was up. My stomach still felt like crap and I had a feeling sleep wasn’t going to be easy tonight in any case so I was hoping she could yield some answers.

Like maybe confirm or deny my concerns about potentially leveling mountains if I sneezed wrong.

She was studying trigonometry - all the scribbled triangles gave that away - and the tension across her shoulders said that it must not have been going well.

“This is ridiculous!” she proclaimed as I shut the door behind me. “Angle-sine-angle or sine-angle-sine, what does that matter? The stupid things are obviously congruent, just look at them!” She still hadn’t looked up.

“What do you mean?” I walked over to see the problem she was trying to solve.

“It’s you!” She fumbled with her pen which clattered to the floor.

“Um yeah? Got a minute?” I asked, wondering at her reaction.

She scooted the chair back before crossing her arms, then re-crossed them to swap which arm was over which. “What’s up?” She didn’t bother to pick up the pen.

“I wanted to ask you, you know, about angel stuff.”

Her brow furrowed. “What day is it?”

Huh? “Tuesday.”

“Oh! Then you must have just lit the candle. Congrats!”

“What?” How did she know that? Oh. “Let me guess…the Book.”

“Yeah,” she said sheepishly. “I don’t always remember the details when I wake up but that one I did.”

“Dreaming the future? I’ve done that before too except while awake.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “When Tsáyidiel flew out of the forest to grab Danielle. Had a flash of that scene during powers testing weeks beforehand.” Seeing said images had caused a serious and rather destructive power flare at the time too. Oops.

“Cool! Have you tried to do it deliberately?”

I blinked. “No? But wouldn’t I need to be able to see your Book to do that?”

She shook her head. “That’s different.”

“Okay I’m confused.”

“It’s complicated. But think of the Book of Life as being a manifestation of the interaction between Father’s intent and the will of the tapestry of Creation itself. It’s like a mapping between what is and what could be, allowing for the whole to be guided.”

“Pre-destination then?”

“No! Not at all!” She straightened up in the chair. “If anything it’s an engine to enhance choice!” Gone was the young girl struggling with math and sitting awkwardly. In her place was someone far older and more knowledgeable.

And yet equally excitable.

“You’ve lost me.” I grimaced. Yep, a headache was kicking in.

She grabbed a piece of graph paper and quickly drew a line across it. “Think of this as the path someone is taking in their life: most people do one thing after another and the direction is fairly stable.” She added new lines branching off from the first one. “And these are other possibilities - the large ones, life changing ones - which require the person to make a choice. Like going on a blind date or not with someone who could become their spouse. Or choosing to help someone even though it could be dangerous to do so. That kind of thing. Real decisions that have impact. Both those that happen in an instant and ones made after long deliberation.”

“Alright,” I said, wondering where she was going with this.

“The Book shows the patterns of each life and where these paths can go. But people have to make the choices themselves.”

“But you said it could be used to guide how things turn out.”

“Yes! Because of how everyone’s lives interact!” She waved her hands about excitedly. “Think of how often a critical choice comes out of sudden circumstance: it can be beautiful or tragic, depending. Sometimes both. That depends on when and where the lines cross. The Book doesn’t interfere with the choices people make but it can influence the interactions. It can set up those moments of decision, those moments when entire life paths may change. So souls can have the chance to shine even brighter than they had before. That is its purpose.”

Good grief. “That’s incredibly powerful.”

Her cheeks squinched. “I know and it scares the heck out of me. But I get only glimpses because I’m still here as a human. Sandalphon’s teaching my spirit but as a human I can’t really do much which is good. Much safer that way.”

Shit. “I’m not always human.”

“I know. You can manifest as your angel self.”

“How much can a manifested angel do?” All those memories from Gabriel when she had come down to deal with the Grigori came to mind. She and Camael, heck all of them, had been fully here on Earth. “How much could you do when you were here as Tamiel?”

She shrugged. “It really depends on the angel. We Grigori were made to interact with the physical world and each of us had our own specialties. Much like every wizard has their own resonances, right? To humanity we’d seem veritable gods but actually we were limited.”

“What about Lucifer?”

She looked down at the paper now covered in lines all criss-crossing each other. “I… Tamiel, I mean… never really knew him. He abandoned Heaven before I was made.”

“He abandoned? He didn’t rebel?”

“It’s complicated. And I wasn’t there for it all. Lucifer fought for Father in the First War against the rebel Samael. Later, after he’d left, he ended up fighting Michael and was also cast down. You have to understand - the memories of such events for angels never fade. Like your exemplar memory but more. To remember anything is to relive it completely in perfect sensory and emotional detail.”

Good grief. “That’s awful. How do they heal from pains and sorrows?”

“Angels? They don’t. Either their words are strong enough to bear the burden, or they aren’t and they Fall or cease. Or sometimes Father would just remove the memories entirely as if they’d never happened. We younger ones quickly learned not to ask questions about the wars. Some of the archangels would test the mettle of newer manifestations by sharing their war memories directly. Knowing full well what it could do to those who were new.”

I shook my head. “Wow. Harsh.”

“You can’t judge it by human standards,” she said intently. “Angels are living ideas taken form. If they cannot stand up to what is then they aren’t strong enough to fulfill the purpose for which they were made. And some of them are vitally important to the stability of everything.”

“Like Lucifer. You never answered my question about him. How powerful is he?”

Her face wrinkled again. “How do you measure the power of a being through which the intent that underlies all existence is exercised? Every angel, every Word that defines us, flows from that Light. If he bent his will to it for all I know he could potentially turn it off.”

“The Universe?”

“All Universes. Or at least he might have been able to before he left. Whether he still has that kind of connection with the levels of the higher abstract I really don’t know.”

“The higher abstract?” And I thought my skull pounded before. Totally my fault however. I’d come to her after all.

“Above the Archangels except they are them at the same time too. The fundamental concepts. Rabbi Kirov’s Kaballah is a primitive mapping of it, sorta, from what little I’ve seen. But there are many layers. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“It’s definitely making my head hurt worse.”

“Consider this then: I, as Tamiel, once heard it described that Lucifer had unparalleled vision. Because what exists is what is held in the Source’s sight. The Light is in all things because what it shines upon is by definition that which is. So being the channel for the light meant seeing everything. And I mean everything. All the history, all the present, and all the possible futures. If you thought it bad for regular angels to relive their perfect memories, Lucifer had it worse. Much worse.”

“Holy crap.” Siabh’s words to Aradia spoken so long ago echoed loudly in my mind. 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. You are growing into your father’s legacy…

Aradia had struggled with the power inherited from Lucifer. So far I’d only experienced a mere snippet of the pain she had gone through. Could I even handle it? Good god, I didn’t want to even try.

August spoke as from a great distance with her attention still focused on the lines covering her page. “They said Creation may have gotten too large and that’s why Lucifer left. That it was too much and drove him mad, fracturing his spirit.”

Gulp.

She blinked and refocused on the room first then me. “I’m not allowed to say what I’ve seen in the Book of the future. Of how things are aligning in the tapestry. And I’m forbidden to interfere with the choices people make based on that knowledge.”

“But you’ve seen more, haven’t you.”

She slowly nodded uncomfortably.

“Shit is hitting the fan, huh.” I sighed with sudden weariness. “No, don’t acknowledge that. Don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I will help as best I can,”she said weakly. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“It’s alright. And thanks. It’s getting late so I should get going. Good luck with the trigonometry.”

Standing quickly she gave me a hard hug. And I mean hard. Like she was trying to make up for all she couldn’t say or do by crushing me with a burst of affection.

“Oof!” I grunted. “You’re stronger than you look!”

Managing a wry grin, she said, “You’re tough. You can take it.”

“Ha ha. Take it easy, see you around tomorrow.”

“You bet!”

It wasn’t until I was out of the cottage jogging back towards Hawthorne that I realized her eyes had been at the same level of mine. She must have grown over six inches in the past month.

Whoa.

And for that matter where were her glasses?

~o~O~o~

My head was still spinning when I got back to Hawthorne’s attic room and began to prepare for sleep. Even Khan could tell I was too distracted to play. He just offered a few solid head bonks in greeting before settling on the bed waiting for me to join him.

I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror as I had for almost every night since all these changes had hit. The young girl with reddish gold hair wearing purple silk pajamas stared back, face drawn and appearing rather shell-shocked.

Not that I could blame her. It had been a hell of a day.

I wanted to scream, to shout, to punch the mirror maybe, but I’d done all those things before. They wouldn’t change the facts, wouldn’t put things back to where they had been.

I’d still be here at a school for wizards and mutants and not in my old house tucked away in Santa Monica.

I’d still be wishing my wife was alive and could hold me close while whispering in her perfect faith that everything would be okay.

I’d still be in this supermodel body of a girl with the weight of the heavens thrust upon her back as a pair of white feathered wings aching to be let free.

And I’d still be scared shitless of the potential power and responsibility that came with them.

Instead I only crawled into bed, pulling the fluffy little guy onto my chest so I could stroke his furry little face.

He purred as those mighty meat-hooks of his kneaded the soft blanket. Fortunately the comforter was thick enough to protect the boobs underneath from his happy claws.

Lying there within the warded circles it was really easy to visualize Gabriel’s dream realm where the hunter and fae creatures had been staying.

It would be just as easy to follow Natalie’s advice and cross over, to let go of everything and be that bright angel waiting within. All too easy.

But would I still be me?

Resting a hand atop Khan’s back I tried to sleep instead. Be it to peaceful slumber or to violent nightmare, I wanted to rest like any normal human.

Even if it was only pretend.

 

“Justin! It’s time to go! Hurry up slow-poke!”

Caroline was laughing loudly in the other room, amused that for once it was her husband who was running late and not her. Not that I was enjoying the humor of the situation.

In fact I was panicking.

The wardrobe drawers overflowed with feminine clothes: bras, panties, blouses, skirts, girl-sized blue jeans and girl-cut t-shirts. The closet, a former refuge of a small collection of dry-cleaned business attire, now was packed full with womanly finery: dress after dress lined the hanging rod: greens and purples, blues and whites, gowns flowed one after the other all hanging above an endless supply of narrow shoes whose heels were affixed with deadly spikes.

Staring in horror I knew they were mine. All had been cut, sewn, and styled to perfectly fit the curved slender form that stood naked and trembling before them.

Good god, how could I explain this to Caroline? She was my world, my reason to get up and go to work every day, my reason to come home. I was her guy, her protector, the scruffy nerd she had fallen in love with, the smiling geek always with a ready joke to lighten her dark moments.

Choking on a high-pitched cry I didn’t dare let her hear, tears dripped over soft cheeks that would never need shaving. I couldn’t face her, not like this. How could she ever accept it?

How could she ever accept what her husband had become?

“You alright in there? You’ve got five minutes, ya goober!”

Delicate fingers fumbled with the foreign clasps of a bra, struggling to spin the fabric into place. A random t-shirt was grabbed and pulled over hair almost reaching the floor, the shirt then tugged down over the prominent frontal features which its purple low-cut style only accentuated. Jeans, tighter than they had any right to be, got yanked upwards over hips and buttoned over the narrow waist.

Footsteps approached the closed bedroom door. “Time’s up!”

Shoes that should never have fit were held in hand as the doorknob began to turn. What could I say? How could I explain? How could it ever be right again?

The door swung open and I prepared to face the music, words failing and heart hoping only that she could somehow, in some way, forgive.

Except Caroline wasn’t there. Behind the white bedroom door lay an expanse of sky glittering with uncountable stars. One shone brighter than the rest, calling and beckoning for me to follow. I recognized that star and with that knowledge knew this all to be but a dream.

Relief clashed with sorrow. For I would have willingly faced any confusion and anger from her for one more chance to hold her tightly. One more moment despite the cancer that had years ago stolen her away.

One more embrace even if all the changes meant I had to eventually let her go.

With unfolded feathers and tears I followed Kokabiel’s star into the night of someone else’s dream.

 

“Brothers and sisters, I trust you will forgive the abruptness of this summons.”

A slender man in a classic black tuxedo complete with coattail and a top-hat stood atop a small wooden stage as he addressed the audience. His hat rested upon dark hair shaved on one side while the other dangled down to reach the opposite cheek and he leaned on an elegantly carved walking stick. The theater appeared antique with a multitude of red velvet seats currently holding perhaps seventy individuals and was lit solely by many candle-burning candelabras casting a multitude of chaotic shadows over everything - especially into the many darkened luxury boxes which lined the high theater walls.

Kokabiel, rail-thin and clad only within a cloak made of the sky we had just traversed led me to a seat in the very back before motioning to sit and be silent. She took the seat next to mine and I did my best to keep my skin’s natural illumination from attracting attention.

“Abrupt certainly qualifies.” A man in the front row spoke, his voice deep and authoritative not unlike a professor addressing a wayward student. He even wore a tweed jacket. “Considering our agreement against such a gathering for the nonce.”

“Well you see, Sariel,” answered the youth on stage with a sly smile. “We had an agreement. But when one withholds information - as you have - such understandings carry little weight.”

A dark-skinned guy next to Sariel ran a gloved hand over a head covered with tightly curled hairs and cursed. “Dammit, Armaros. We haven’t had time to wake everyone up properly. They barely remember their names let alone the past and what they are faced with now! What good is this?” His voice sounded oddly familiar but I couldn’t see his face from back here.

Armaros spread arms wide while still holding the ebony cane. “That’s just it, dear Barakiel. There is very little time to be had. Most of our brethren here may indeed wake up wondering whether this was all just a flight of fancy but our words will still resonate. And if you had succeeded in Syria this would not have been necessary!”

Syria? What the hell?

Barakiel muttered something unintelligible and I thought I heard distant thunder. “We kept the book out of Azazel’s hands,” he said. “I count that as a partial victory.”

A woman who was dressed in nothing more than yellow silk pajamas stood up. “What is this? Am I dreaming? Who are you people?”

Armaros waved her calmly back to her seat. “Please, relax and allow me to explain. Or at least summarize so you may ponder when you awaken.”

Crossing arms in annoyed confusion she begrudgingly sat back down.

“Thank you,” Armaros continued with a smile. “Everyone! We are, to put it succinctly, what remain of the Grigori - my brothers and sisters - all those left of our order. We are the angels who were sent to Earth to aid Mankind in rebuilding their once-shattered world. Most of you here are just starting to remember your true pasts and the rest will surely do so over the next few months. You may not believe it but your spirits know this to be truth.”

The audience grumbled and another voice called. “Say we believe you. I’ve been having lots of weird visions of some ancient past. Usually at the worst times. Heck, I almost got fired because of one! So why are we remembering this now?”

“Because,” Armaros said as he clunked the wooden stage with the cane, “the spell-working designed to keep us trapped in mortal incarnation and ignorance is finally breaking. We are unfortunately becoming freed from those bonds.”

The woman in yellow spoke again. “Unfortunately? Isn’t being free a good thing?”

“No.” It was Barakiel who answered with a shake of his head.

“Why not?”

“Allow me to explain,” said Armaros smoothly. “We were bound to Earth, to live as men and women. Our alternative was banishment to Hell as punishment for our transgressions and disobedience or be destroyed utterly. Only Gabriel’s mercy and intervention kept us from such eternal fates.”

“Mercy?!” Barakiel jumped to his feet and a beige overcoat fell free from his shoulders. “Most of us fought for them against Azazel because they promised us our children would be safe! Instead they drowned them all. Camael, that blood-spattered bastard, let them die!”

At the mention of Camael’s name many in the crowd moaned and others whimpered as if a wave of painful memories had suddenly washed over them.

Which I had a sinking feeling was exactly what had happened.

“And what about you?” Armaros shouted back at Barakiel. “You let that penny-ante sorcerer take Raziel’s Gift when it was right in front of you! And while Sariel declined to tell me what the sorcerer went and did with the book, it wasn’t hard to figure out. Soren used the knowledge in that tome to unleash Camael against Azazel! The Second Seal is shattered and War rides free with red-stained wings of glory!”

I’d recovered enough of Aradia’s memories to understand most of this but was having a hard time keeping up. Given how many others here also looked confused I was in good company on that score. From what I’d remembered Camael had been the angel who escorted Gabriel to Earth and who had carried Aradia over the rising flood-waters at the end of the battle against Azazel and the Nephelim. But Camael was free on Earth now? That didn’t sound good. As for a ‘Second Seal’, that’s something from Revelations isn’t it?

Oh. Oh my. They were talking about the Apocalypse. Like THE Apocalypse.

The reaction from the crowd verged on panic. One dude not far from me bleakly muttered, “Camael is loose? We’re fucked.” Suddenly many people were shouting at once while others buried faces in their hands and still more just stared at everyone else with sheer befuddlement.

Armaros pounded the cane against the wood. “Everyone! Calm and quiet please!”

A woman in a pink sun-dress wailed loudly. “What good is that? Camael will hunt us all! His Powers have harassed us life after life after life, with him back they’ll break us from the wheel entirely and toss us into the pit!”

“We won’t let that happen, dammit!” Barakiel declared. “Two seals may have broken but we can keep the others intact if we act quickly.”

Pink silk lady shouted back at him. “How the hell are you planning to do that, Barak? Ask them nicely to set aside prophecy? And what do you mean, ‘two seals’? Armaros only mentioned the one!”

Barakiel exchanged a look with Sariel before cursing under his breath.

“What was that?” demanded the woman. “Speak up damn you.”

“Nuts! That’s what I said. You happy now Ananel? The First Seal is broken too.”

“You bastard,” she said as she glared at him. “You weren’t intending to tell us. I’d expect that of Sariel but not you. If the first has shattered then Conquest also rides free. Do you at least know who he is? The rantings of that insane monk at Patmos never made it clear. Does Conquest serve Heaven or does he serve Hell?”

Fuck fuck fuck. My mind raced and I really didn’t like where it was going. According to the bible the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse started with Conquest who was then followed by War, Famine, and Death. I’d read the Revelations of St. John years ago though at the time it had been only used as fodder for stories in a few role-playing games.

Swallowing hard I too cursed as I suddenly could only see one thing from memory: a circle of intricate glowing magic forged from the power of holy names as it hovered in front of a lake, standing between me and saving my niece as she fell from that clear sky towards certain death.

I had shattered it into a billion pieces.

Mindless of what it was I’d broken that sacred Seal and thereby gained the wings with which to save Danielle. I had done it. I had broken the First Seal. The first Horseman, prophesied to wear a brilliant crown, could therefore only be one person.

Me.

In absolute shock I sank deeper into the velvet lined chair.

“We,” Barakiel was saying, “have a good idea on who that is. But that seal is gone and focusing on it benefits no one.”

“In that I agree,” said Armaros. “Fighting fully manifested Powers is never a good idea, especially considering our weakened states. We are still incarnated as people! And that is why I called us all here: so that we may coordinate our resistance to the sequence of prophecy. Because for us it ends only in Hell or oblivion.”

Over the silence following his words a voice came from offstage. “There is a third option.”

All eyes went to a newcomer emerging from the side, walking across the planks and towering many feet over Armaros. Everyone stared, some in hesitant recognition.

I found myself in the latter group.

In the distant past Gabriel and Camael had visited with the Fae Queen. While there Camael had grabbed a Grigori and shoved them into a tent to talk with Gabriel. It was the spirit of my friend August, the angel Tamiel, who had walked out onto the stage with folded wings of cloudy grey.

They were no longer as androgynous as in memory and also much taller. Shoulders had filled out, hands still graceful yet now robust were held at, well, at his sides. The softness and either/or nature of his face was gone, leaving a stronger and more chiseled purely masculine appearance.

“Tamiel?” asked Armaros, who like us all was blinking in surprise at the changes from what had once must have seemed eternal.

“That was my name, yes,” the angel pondered. “It will suffice for a little longer.”

“What happened to you?” Armaros demanded.

“The opportunity to choose,” Tamiel said softly yet with a voice echoing perfectly clear to everyone present.

“Choose… what?” Barakiel was still standing and studying Tamiel intently.

“A path towards redemption. A path of returning to that which was lost.”

“Liar!” cried Ananel. “You know that’s impossible! We rebelled and are lost forever!”

“The light has chosen otherwise,” Tamiel replied serenely. “Look not to me but to our guiding star. Look to Kokabiel.” With that he pointed across the theater directly at where Kokabiel and I lurked in our seats. “Stand, sister. Stand and let them see.”

Kokabiel took hold of my hand in a fierce grip. She was shaking with fear.

Yet she stood. And, after a hesitation, unfolded beautiful wings of emerald nebulae and sparkling galaxies, filled with the glimmering pattern of her name once again shining within her heart.

A hush punctuated only by a few murmurings of ‘Adonai’ fell across the theater.

The following silence was broken by Barakiel. “My god,” he said in shock. “She did it.” His wide eyes blinked and realized that Kokabiel hadn’t been alone, seeing me for the first time. “Holy shit, Aradia. You actually did it. You saved her. You restored her name.”

In the outburst which followed (as everyone suddenly tried to talk or yell at once) I realized I’d seen that blasted beige coat before. Across the shoulders of Nicolas Wright, the mage who’d shown up to help rescue Danielle. Barakiel, dark-skinned and rippling with muscles, was wearing Nick’s coat.

He didn’t look at all like Nick but it was him all the same.

The crowd was out of their seats and pushing towards Kokabiel, trying to touch her and feel for themselves the truth that blazed clearly to those who had eyes to see.

That awe and astonishment was interrupted by an angry voice cracking over the crowd from one of the balcony boxes and spitting with verbal venom upon all our heads.

“Behold the miracle!” it sneered. “Behold the golden yoke of Heaven dangled once again before us, offering only the return to slavery with manacles of gold!”

All eyes darted upwards. A cloaked figure leaned over the balcony rail, the hood keeping his face in shadow.

The woman called Ananel shouted up at him. “I know that voice, that arrogance! Shemyaza you have no right to be here!”

Kokabiel darn near crushed my hand and stumbled back. Thousands of years of terror flooded her and if I hadn’t caught hold she would have fallen to the floor.

Shemyaza, the leader of the Grigori, had long ago abandoned her to be mind-raped and enslaved by Azazel’s evil.

I couldn’t help it. The light flowed stronger, trying to give her the strength to stand against those horrible memories.

“Do I not?” spat the man identified as the Grigori’s former merciless leader. “Did I not hold us together when Heaven abandoned us? When our pleas for mercy and the need for Homecoming fell on the deaf ears of the cursed archangels?”

“And look where that led us!” Barakiel shouted back. “You let Azazel become a monster which forced them to act! You speak of slavery to Heaven when you helped that bastard enslave so many of us directly!”

“Debating the past is pointless and gains us nothing,” their former captain countered. “Azazel is gone and Heaven plays its games once more. What matters now is facing this false path that she claims to offer and recognizing their lies!”

With that he pointed not at Kokabiel but instead at me.

“For behold,” Shemyaza cried out. “The false promise made manifest! Behold Amariel, false messiah and deliverer of our doom!”

Son of a bitch.

While everyone’s eyes shifted to stare now at me the jerk tossed out the clincher.

“Behold Conquest, the first Rider of the End! Ask yourselves: who is she to conquer if not us? It is her name that empowers Kokabiel! Not Father’s, not the Throne’s, but hers alone!”

Fear and panic flooded through the crowd mixing with the rage and feelings of betrayal from all the confused recollections of ages of abuse, abandonment, and pain. I saw their patterns then, a collection of dim and broken words all cracked around a gaping hole where the light of Heaven’s grace had once burned bright. Where the name of their Father had once connected them to all their brethren in the Host and to the Source of all above.

As they surged forward with expressions of hatred mixed with hope I cried out from the torrent of emotions slamming into me. Like a hammer to a mighty gong, the response from within shattered all my feeble control and the dam holding back the light collapsed into dust.

Light flashed outward burning with an overwhelming need, aching to touch them, to aid them, to heal them, to ease their sufferings, to recognize and embrace them all as its - or my - own.

Kokabiel reacted instantly. Wrapping wings of night around the blazing lantern I’d become she diverted that light out into the endless expanse of the stars instead.

“No, they will burn! They are not ready!” Kokabiel’s thoughts sliced with that truth and I fought to keep the infinite fountain from blasting through her to get to all her brothers and sisters. The purpose inherent to my name demanded action but she was right. It would destroy so many more than it would save if it happened like this.

From that balcony echoed a bitter laugh. “There, you see? She cannot help but try and enslave you to her will! Learn this lesson well, siblings. Archangels are all alike! They are what they are made to be and never change!”

With quasars, galaxies, and infinite space pulling the light and my cries of frustration into the void, the angel of the stars carried me away.

Not to save me from her siblings but to save them from me.

As an introduction to an entire chorus of angels that totally could have gone a whole lot better.

Chapter 5 - Visit

Zap had once heard that the girls’ showers in Poe Cottage had all been equipped with special plumbing and therefore resembled a spa more than dormitory facilities. But the facilities for boys only had a standard line of stalls like those found in any gym’s locker room. Old beige tiles covered the floor with drains installed at set intervals throughout the room so the entire space could be easily hosed down. Each shower nook was supposed to have curtains for privacy but either a prankster had stolen them or a crazed devisor had suddenly suffered an overnight need for water-resistant plastics.

Jesse Cameron, known to his friends as ‘Zap’, was betting on the former given these were the fifth set of curtains to go missing since the semester had begun. In the past there’d been actual glass shower doors but too many enterprising souls had kept developing quick-dry caulking compounds to seal up their sleepy-eyed comrades during their morning showers. The drain hole would have been plugged up earlier with the pipes jiggered so that once the water started to flow it couldn’t be shut off.

A photo of such an occurrence had made the rounds. Given the victim’s snorkeling mask and swimming fins Zap had a not-so-sneaky suspicion the guy had been in on it from the get-go. The swarm of goldfish had also been a nice added touch. While Zap’s life had been simpler for those years he’d spent as a hawk, he had to admit that humans were certainly amusing.

The guys on his floor had all gotten used to the constant lack of curtains and strictly obeyed the male social code of pretending that barriers were still in place, each boy just taking care of his business with minimal eye-contact and grunted greetings whenever they’d be forced to step past each other. Thus each maintained a quietly stoic morning routine.

Which was completely in stark contrast to the god who deliberately leaned against the wall outside Zap’s exposed stall while leering at him with a full set of gleaming ivory teeth. Dark reddish skin was covered only by a simple loin-cloth and the tiled walls could just be made out through his image.

Zap groaned, turning his back to the sudden visitor with the shaved scalp. Maybe if he ignored it the spirit would just go away.

A sharp appreciative whistle made it clear that wouldn’t work. Zap flushed, realizing he’d just given a perfect view of his backside to his visitor, and grumbled, “Go away!”

“And miss out on all this? You always made a better dude than a gal. I should send the Thunderbird something for fixing that for you. Think Hallmark’s got a card for that?” The spirit laughed.

Startled, Zap spun around to quickly check that no one else was in earshot - or at least no one who could hear spirits. Fortunately they were alone. He also got a good look at the spirit’s shadow: where the head should be was this dark outline of something like an anteater with cropped eartips or maybe a tapir of some kind. Weird but recognizable.

With a swallow Zap said it aloud. “You’re the god Set.”

The leer faded as black-outlined eyes became serious. “Who else? We should talk.”

“What about?” Refusing to be seen as embarrassed by his nudity, Zap crossed his arms.

“I heard of your little adventure to Arcadia with the budding archangel.”

“So?”

“Shit’s happening. The queen whose nose you just picked - sorry, I mean ‘poked’ - is gearing up. She’s going to pop the barriers that keep all the fae stuck as humans.”

The god meant Queen Fionnabhair, one of the last Queens of the Fae and ruler over many of the connected fae dream-realms including her capital of Aracadia. Which was the very place where Jordan and Zap had gone to save their friend Danielle when her spirit had been taken captive. Turned out that Danielle was the reincarnation of the Queen’s own sister, Siabh, a powerful fae herself who according to her captors had betrayed their people. During the rescue Jordan had almost destroyed the entire fae realm and thereby forced bitter concessions down the Queen’s throat. Zap, as his spirit-self Heru, had fought against the Queen during that battle. He knew too well that she was a force to be reckoned with.

“How’s she going to manage that?” Zap asked.

Set shrugged. “She sure as shit didn’t say when she asked me to help. But it’s going to suck and not in a fun way if she pulls it off.”

The thought of Set and Queen Fionnabhair working together was chilling, despite the hot water still cascading down Zap’s back. “She wants you to work with her? What does she want you to do?”

“You don’t know?”

“How the heck would I?”

“It should be obvious, kid.”

“Dammit, just tell me!” Zap’s rising irritation kindled a much older anger. “You were always such a pain in the ass.”

The leering grin crept back. “You know, you're really cute when you get like this. Even cuter when you’re on a murderous rampage.”

“Set!” Ancient frustration and rage rose from within fed by confused memories of the two of them fighting. They’d once been side by side as the closest of family while at the same time trying their vicious best to spill the blood of the other.

“Hey,” Set said while examining perfectly manicured fingernails. “I get it that you want a regular life and just want to bury all this old crap under the sand. So it’s cool. The plan we built for this shit is intact; I can drive it alone. You just sit this thing out and keep your eyes open. Oh, and be careful when dealing with your pretty angel friend. It’d be a shame if she chooses the wrong side in all this and had to be dealt with.”

Sparks danced along Zap’s skin. “Don’t you dare threaten her!”

Set waved placating open hands. “Whoa, don’t get me wrong! Angels are well-meaning with their feathers of righteousness and all but they’ll sacrifice you in a heartbeat to serve whatever they think is ‘holy’. Their collective heads are stuck so far up their asses they’re in the clouds. What do you expect from a family that kicked out the only members with two feet firmly on the ground. But don’t worry. We can take care of her too if we have to.”

Zap growled. “Don’t. Threaten. Her.” Each word was punctuated by a flash as the water in the shower kept trying to ground out the energy.

Set opened his mouth to say something then shook his head and only muttered to himself. “Our chats always end badly, don’t they?” With that he disappeared, though his sha-headed shadow lingered for a second and offered its own cheery wave goodbye before also flickering off into the ether.

“Fuck!” Zap’s heart raced and his head swam from all the confused feelings Set’s mere presence had conjured. He had tried so hard to ignore Ra’s call, staying as a hawk on purpose to avoid the truth of who he was. But he was Heru, god with the eyes of the sun and the moon, worshiped by an Egypt long lost to the sands of time. He’d put all that reluctance aside to help Jordan save Danielle but who had really gone on that journey, Heru or himself? The fact that Jordan seemed more attracted to his dream god-self than who he was in the physical world still stung too. Not that he’d ever admit that to her.

Since getting back from those fae realms he had slipped more and more into trying to forget that side, to just be Zap or Jesse (formerly Jessica, something known by only a very few which had better stay that way) Cameron, a Whateley student no different from the rest. But that wasn’t the truth, was it? Who was more real, Zap or Heru?

Worse still, how could he help Jordan against Set’s threat if he didn’t even know the current playing field?

Releasing the last of the built up energy and frustrations in a cascade of sparks that lit up the drain, Zap turned off the shower. He grabbed a towel, procedurally going through the motions of drying up and getting dressed. His mind however was plotting what to do next - even if it meant skipping a few classes or lunch and dinner altogether. Because he needed knowledge. He needed wisdom. And he needed magic.

He needed to summon Thoth.

 

Call Of The Light (Part 2 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 6 - Rooftops

Louis found me as I was sitting on the roof.

The sun had started the day playing hide-and-seek behind several wispy clouds much to the entertainment of the many crows raising a loud ruckus from the trees lining the paths below. The kids scurrying to the cafeteria and their classes were bundled up tightly in school sweaters and coats to fend off the crisp autumn-chilled air. Not that the cold bothered either me or Louis. I could easily ignore it and Louis, known as Fubar to the kids, wasn’t really here.

His presence was after all only an astral projection.

“Good morning,” he said after flickering into view a few feet above the concrete tiles. Dark slacks and business jacket with white shirt was how he’d chosen to appear today, his solemn expression undercut by eyes twinkling with their own caring humor. Using his mind alone he could visit wherever he was needed—a useful trick unique to the school’s pre-eminent psychic instructor and counselor.

Pulling knees closer to my chest, I sighed and watched my breath wisp away as a small cloud of its own. “Mornin’ Louis.”

“May I join you?”

Resisting the temptation to snark about how he already had I shrugged, waving a hand at the tiles. “Go for it.”

“You didn’t go to class today.” His legs folded into a lotus position as he hovered downward. The details of his projection were impressively complete: a perfectly matched shadow stretched out over the rooftop in parallel to my own.

“Nope.”

“Ah.” He watched as a pair of crows swooped down to steal crackers away from the single white dove a girl with pink pig-tails had been happily feeding just off the main path. The girl’s efforts to chase away the dark intruders seemed to amuse the birds all the more. “Been up here long?” he asked after the girl gave up and skipped off down the path.

“Caught the dawn a few hours ago.”

“Should we get someone to feed your cat?”

That earned him a small smile. “Khan’s fine. I put out a fresh can before coming up. He’s probably snoozing atop his heating pad by now.”

“That’s good.”

With the pig-tailed girl’s departure the crows fought amongst themselves for the remnants of her crackers, chasing back and forth between the fall-colored branches with prizes clasped in their beaks. The smaller but faster bird emerged from the scrum as the victor and proceeded to tear the largest chunk into swallowable bits.

Louis sat quietly with me while the rest of world continued to spin and do its thing, sunlight brightening and dimming in tune with the long thin streaks of white fluff drifting across the bright blueness. Without thinking I leaned against his arm and shoulder. He stiffened as if startled but didn’t pull away. Eventually I realized I was speaking.

“I’m scared, Louis,” I was saying. “I’m scared because of all the things I don’t know and all the things I do. Everything keeps getting bigger and I don’t know where it’s heading, let alone where it’ll end up. I lit a candle last night and by doing so I touched a potential capable of giving birth to entire new suns. Biblical prophecies and the myths of Heaven are shoving me in directions I can’t fathom towards a power and a duty beyond what any person should have. And that’s just it. I feel like I’m only pretending to even still be human, like maybe I’m desperately trying to hold on to something which is no longer even there.”

The seriously-too-tight pocket in these jeans reluctantly released a shred of stored tissue and I blew my nose to get it to stop sniffling. Huh, my cheeks were damp too.

Maybe it was raining and I hadn’t noticed.

He leaned back before wrapping a hesitant arm around my shoulders. This time it was my turn to not flinch away.

After a minute he broke the silence. “You know, given the range and focus that I’ve developed I am considered one of the strongest psychics the world has ever seen. If I wish I can transport my awareness across vast distances. And should I desire I could pluck at all the minds I encounter and bend them to my will. What is frightening is that if done right with the proper skill none would ever realize the intrusion. All it would take would be a deep understanding of their psychology and knowing precisely which levers within their psyches upon which to pull.”

He paused as the crows took flight towards the cafeteria and the prospect of further edibles. “At the same time I am physically confined to the pool in the cottage’s basement below, more an Eldritch horror than a man, serving as a litmus test for the strength of stomach and character of new students relegated to water-filter cleaning duties. As you may well imagine I’ve spent quite a few moments pondering what it means to be human.”

One crow remained in a nearby tree, yelling raucously at his departed fellows. “Any conclusions?” I asked.

“Perhaps only operating premises. I could easily become the true horror that many in the government who are aware of my existence have always feared. And that temptation never goes away. Not when constantly feeling so much of the suffering and pain people deal with and broadcast each and every day. I could grant them peace of mind, grant them the serenities they ceaselessly clamor for inside. It would be easy to do.”

“But you won’t do that.”

“No, I won’t. I choose to believe that by allowing them the freedom of their own humanity—their own choices for happiness and pain alike—I am also choosing to hold on to my own. Maybe that is naive and there will come a day I will be forced to cross that line in order to stop some greater evil. The world, after all, has a way of making mockeries of any absolutes. But I hope that day never arrives.”

“I don’t think you’re naive,” I said quietly.

“Maybe, maybe not. Time will tell. But through my work at the school and consulting off-campus I’ve run across a number of individuals I would term as Powers. People with abilities staggering to consider, both heroic and villainous. And if there was a single sign I could point at as to how some crossed from the former category into the latter it would simply be this: isolation.”

“Is that a rebuke for lurking up here?” I smiled.

“Not at all!” He returned the smile with a warm one of his own. “Yet at the same time should you find yourself pushing away friends because of thinking that they couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through or that there’s no way they’d be able to help, I’d advise against doing that. Hold them closer, trust them as you’d hope they would trust you. Let them support you and be a constant reminder as to why those lines should never be crossed. Find in them the humanity you hope to preserve in yourself.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good.” He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

On impulse I leaned up to give his cheek a quick kiss. “You’re a good man, Louis. Thanks.”

He flushed but didn’t pull away. If anything he held me closer.

I didn’t mind.

“So,” I said more lightly, “I’m probably in trouble for ditching my morning classes, right?”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m fully empowered to sign excuse slips.”

“Cool. Because I’m thinking of taking off until, oh, at least lunch.”

He hesitated before asking, “Should I go?”

“I was hoping to follow your advice.” I made no movement whatsoever to get up.

“Ah.”

We sat there together and watched various other birds continue their own play as they filled the air with sporadically chirped melodies. The bright yellow sun rose further into the sky offering a soothing warmth whenever its rays cut through the clouds to shine upon us both.

It was all rather pretty.

~o~O~o~

I hadn’t made it more than five feet past the doors of the Crystal Hall before my name was being shouted over the throng of loud and hungry students. Most of my friends had occupied a large table and they all were calling and waving at me like a bunch of deranged geese.

Since turning and running for the hills didn’t seem like an available option I waved back before hurriedly hitting up the buffet to grab the first item that even remotely appealed: chicken tortilla soup. With this acquired I was ushered into a chair surrounded by my friends and niece: Evie, Jenna, Tamara, Brendan, August, Ester, and of course Danielle.

See? Large table.

Evie immediately blurted the question everyone obviously wanted to ask. “You okay? Where were you!”

I gave her my best reassuring smile and a hug. “I’m fine. Just have a lot to think about.” August and Ester both looked uncomfortably down at their own food trays. I pretended not to notice, though that pretty much confirmed that they too remembered the erstwhile ‘dream’ sequence with the Grigori and the source of the morning’s dose of existential angst.

Danielle, brushing aside the single reddish-gold lock of hair that kept breaking free from its all-white cousins, spoke next. “You missed Magic Theory this morning and we couldn’t find you at Mythic History. Jenna checked your room, you weren’t there either. We were worried.”

I nodded. “I know.”

Brendan said, “Zap’s missing too. He with you? You two go world hopping again or something?” His brow narrowed with suspicion.

Zap was missing? Huh. “No,” I said, “I actually spent most of the morning talking with Louis. I haven’t seen Zap.”

They all looked at each other. Around a mouthful of spaghetti Jenna said, “Something is obviously up. Spill.”

With a resigned shrug I waved a spoon at Tamara. “You have that privacy spell thing of yours? What I’ve got to say really needs to go no further than here.”

She reached into her backpack and pulled out a salt-shaker seemingly exactly like the ornate silver holder already adorning our table. Of course that was only true if you didn’t peer at it in the magical spectrum. Attuning to such things revealed a vibrantly pulsating spell-working of swarming celtic and fae knotwork - an item she ‘inherited’ from a graduating senior the year before. The senior had claimed they had gotten it in turn from a previous fae student of some renown and power. Placing it at the center of the table Tamara whispered a phrase and with a pulse the air around our table shimmered before settling down.

“There,” she announced. “Neither devise nor magic can listen in on us now. They’ll just hear a bubble-headed conversation about fashion shows.”

Brendan objected. “Hey!”

Tamara grinned. “Sorry dude! Any lip readers will think you’re talking about fabrics and colors with the same passionate and air-headed interest as the rest of us.”

Brendan rolled his eyes before taking a savage bite out of a dinner roll without further comment.

“Right then.” Pulling in a deep breath, I let it out slow. “Some of you already know this but I found out something totally nuts last night and it’s basically freaking me out. And if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Not even the teachers. Okay?”

They all glanced meaningfully at each other and nodded their agreement. Jenna simply said, “Give.”

I gave. I had to tell someone, right? Khan, as awesome a kitty as he was, didn’t quite count. “There’s no easy way to say this. You know in the Bible the whole Apocalypse prophecy? The four Horsemen and all that?” I got nods, though I suspected Evie was just going along with the others. “Apparently I’m the first of the four. The one historically called ‘Conquest’.”

Danielle’s eyes bugged out. “Holy shit!”

“Exactly,” I said. “Completely insane, right?”

Brendan’s cheeks slowly lost all color. “I thought the first rider was supposed to be the anti-Christ, the son of Satan.”

“Yeah.” I winced. “Does being the daughter of Lucifer count? Because that’s who the original Aradia was and I’m pretty sure I’ve got her spirit.”

“Fuuuuuck,” said Jenna, her eyes growing wider than her plate. “Isn’t that the story with the seven seals and the plagues, dogs and cats living together, and all the end of the world type stuff?”

“That’s the one,” Brendan said still staring at me rather aghast. “It’s already started, hasn’t it?”

Danielle’s brow furrowed. She poked August who was shifting rather uncomfortably in her (his?) seat. “Hey August,” Danielle said, “if that was the case, wouldn’t you know all about it from the Book of Life?” Given that Danielle had been saved once by August’s connection to the Book, she had tried to question August extensively with what it could or couldn’t do. I think my niece was still rather annoyed by how little August had been willing to tell her.

“Yes,” August mumbled without meeting Danielle’s gaze. “Jordan is right. She’s the First Horseman. Crowned in light and glory.”

“What the hell August!” shouted Danielle, shoving her chair back so she could stand and glare. “How could you not have told her?”

Poor August looked like they were about to cry.

“Hey, it’s not their fault,” I interjected, putting a hand on August’s shoulder. “Sandalphon forbid revealing things from the Book. That goes with the responsibilities of connecting to it. August is just doing as he commanded. They don’t like it any more than we do. So no one give them any grief about it. Got it?” I said the last rather forcefully to drive the message home.

Everyone but Danielle seemed to understand. My niece however always did have a strong rebellious streak and crossed her arms, clearly still angry.

Jenna looked to Brendan. “Wait, you asked if it had already begun. You mean the actual Apocalypse.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. At the lake, we all saw it too.”

“Saw what?” Jenna asked.

“Jordan broke the seal,” he replied, pushing away his still-laden plate. “When she got her wings. So she could save Danielle.”

“Oh my god.” Danielle sank back down in her chair, all anger draining away as she stared at me in horror. “You triggered the end of the world to save me?”

Ah hell. “We don’t know that will happen.”

Jenna shook her head. “I thought Revelations laid it all out. A thousand years of rule by Satan, then Jesus shows up, kicks his ass, and wraps up the Earth to take the saved to Heaven.” She fiddled with the golden cross at her neck before realizing what she was doing. She let the symbol of her faith fall back against her skin.

“It’s not as clear as that,” Tamara countered. “At my old school I got stuck with taking Bible study one semester. There are many interpretations and yeah in one the first rider is indeed the anti-Christ. But others have him as representing the gospel spreading over the world to prepare the way for the so-called ‘conquering Christ’.”

Brendan’s fist hit the table with a loud thud. “Either way the world is in deep shit.” He was still glaring at me. “Can you stop it?”

I waved a spoon helplessly. “I don’t know! And there’s more. Apparently Soren used the book I gave him to free the angel Camael. In other words he broke the Second Seal already and unleashed number two: War.”

Ester, fidgeting uncomfortably, spoke quietly. “You let him have that book in order to save me.”

“Yes, I did.” I blinked. She had spoken in her native Norwegian language and I’d replied in kind. Which was earning some further weird stares from everyone else. “And I’d probably do it again, hon.” I tried to smile reassuringly, not that it really helped much.

“Why tell us?” Tamara asked. “I mean, this is huge. Like mind boggling crazy huge.”

I pushed the soup away. The poor bowl had gone cold anyway. “Because you’re my friends. And as we saw at the lake, crazy stuff keeps happening around me. Even with Whateley Academy as protected as it is, just by being close to me you all could be in danger. You deserve to know.”

For the first time since I’d sat down, Brendan’s expression towards me softened. Okay, maybe only a little. “Thank you. But why not tell the teachers? Won’t they just try to help?”

I cringed. “That’s just it. They would. But to do that they’d likely contact others outside of the school. Kirov already screwed up like that once before and we know what that caused: Azazel found out where I was. And I bet Natalie would have to report this to the DPA. What if the government decided I was a threat to the world after all? Or what if some crazed religious group finds out? They’ll either form a cult around me or try to kill me. And I only have that note from Soren as proof Azazel and his mind-control powers aren’t still lurking behind seemingly normal folk. Being an angel is bad enough as is, but this?”

Brendan slowly nodded. “Yeah, it’s tricky. What do you plan to do?”

“Honestly I have no idea,” I told him. “I only found out last night and am still reeling from it all.”

He managed a wry grin. “Guess you’re still human enough to be confused, eh?”

I made a face. “I feel like I’m up shit’s creek with a foam pool noodle as the only available paddle.”

A small hand took mine. “It’ll be okay,” Evie said quietly. Damn near broke my heart, seeing her trying to be strong for me. Yeah, she got another hug. As a girl I can be liberal with those, right?

Apparently so, as Jenna decided to group hug us both with an enhanced strength squeeze. Ow.

“Well, I have one idea,” Brendan announced after the hug-fest eased off.

“What?” I halfway expected him to say we should party like the end was nigh. Why the heck not, right?

His idea was entirely different. “You should train with us. Danger is taking aim at you whether you like it or not. And while I still think using your powers is too risky, you not knowing how to use them if you had to might be more so. For everyone.”

Saying that caused Jenna to openly gape. Ever since the fight at the lake Brendan had maintained I shouldn’t try to work with his team for combat training. He had agreed wholeheartedly with the teachers that I should keep my powers under strict control. This had been a source of major friction between him and Jenna, something which had been really sad to watch. It was obvious that the two adored each other, even if they’d yet to admit it.

“How?” I asked. “You know the restrictions I’m under. No powering up.”

“There is a way,” he mused. “You join us in the sims. We only code in what powers you know about. Working with abilities isn’t just about controlling them but also knowing when to use what. It’d be a start.”

“Yes!” Jenna exclaimed with growing excitement. “You totally should!”

I thought about it. The sims were like a regular video game, just a lot more immersive with full virtual reality suits and devisor hook-ups. As I’d already used them in my combat driving class the previous week to practice on crazy things like tanks and helicopters, the idea seemed safe enough. “Alright, I’m in. When?”

He grinned mischievously. “I bet if I hurry and catch the Sensei before his next class he’d let us skip Martial Training to do this instead. Especially with you destroying the punching bag yesterday like you did. At least in a sim you can’t break any equipment, right? If he agrees that’ll free up me and Jenna.” He looked over at Danielle and Tamara. “What about you two? You free seventh period?”

Tamara looked thoughtful. “We’ve got special magical practice in seventh. They rearranged our schedules last week so Danielle and I could practice under Circe’s guidance instead of us two sneaking off into the forest to do it.”

Danielle, sheepish about getting busted for unauthorized forest activities, piped up with, “I could visit Natalie real quick. If I hint that the teamwork would be good for Jordan, she could convince Circe to let us go.”

Jenna bounced out of her chair. “Then I’ll go bug Gunny to get us a sim slot!” She reached down to stab her last meatball before dropping the fork onto the now-empty plate. “Someone bus my tray, I’m gonna go find him!” She almost knocked a poor kid over, food and all, as she zoomed towards the exit. Somehow he’d managed to hold on to his tray and not spill everything.

Brendan yelled out to her, “Shouldn’t we confirm with Ito and Circe first?”

If she heard she ignored it - which caused the rest of us to laugh as Brendan shook his head at her exuberance.

He turned to me. “It’s settled then. Seventh period we go fight some simulated evil. Don’t be late. If this works our combat team can boast about having the one-and-only First Horseman as a member.”

Tamara, reaching for the magic salt shaker, scolded him. “You keep that to yourself buster. Or you’re going to find out how devious a witch and a fae can be in coming up with punishments for breaking an oath to friends.” Danielle’s arms crossed in solidarity.

“Okay, okay!” Brendan held up his hands in defeat. “Relax! I won’t say anything, I swear!”

Evie shook a finger at him. “You better not! I’ll have you know I wield a fierce pillow!”

Once again the kids at Whateley were treating the absolutely incredible and mythic as standard affair. Though considering the insanities they witnessed every day, what’s an Apocalypse or two between friends? And I will admit, the thought of short little Evie attacking the seven foot tall Brendan with a small pink throw pillow got me giggling in spite of myself.

Ten bucks says she’d cheat and find a way to win.

~o~O~o~

When I’d first heard about the sims I had figured they were comprised of a virtual reality helmet, gloves, and maybe a run-in-place treadmill type setup. I had woefully underestimated the resources Whateley could throw at something to help train their combat teams.

These were full brain and nerve inducted immersive endeavors.

Powered by a mix of magic and devisor tech, participants had to wear fully haptic feedback bodysuits along with an electrode studded helm which stimulated the nerves running up the neck and across the top of the head directly. All integrated the user felt like they were truly there inside the computer generated reality.

The whole operation was overseen by a retired Marine, one Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue. He stood slightly taller than me, dark-skin covered by a Whateley Security uniform, and was in good physical condition - especially for a guy whose short curly hair had turned white many years in the past. His presence, however, was like facing an old yet fully functional battle-tank whose turret had just swung around to aim with perfect precision right at your face.

Fortunately after a quick and measuring look-over he just grunted and sent me off with a female technician to get suited up. The bluish-gold bodysuit was of course skin-tight leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and just re-emphasized how different I’d become. They’d had one made to my measurements for the driving course but as I’d only used it once so far it still had that ‘new-from-plastic’ smell.

Once I was clothed-but-not-really, the tech (whose name was Linda) led me to a room with this huge chair contraption in the center. The walls were inscribed with various runes which I figured for some kind of isolation warding as walking in there felt rather like being within the circles inscribed onto my bedroom floor. After hooking me into a seat more like an overgrown dentist’s chair that happened to be plugged into enough high-voltage lines to power a small city, she pulled out a tablet and commenced reciting the official list of my powers that the school testers currently knew about.

I held my tongue and didn’t mention the ability to break seals and trigger the End Of The World As We Knew It. I figured they didn’t need official records of that kind of thing. Besides, we were supposed to be entering a sim as a hero squad fighting supervillains and not a team dealing with the fact that one of their own was potentially the biggest danger around. I did have to clarify and adjust a few things from her list and expand it slightly. I mean, hey, I can light actual candles now. That could totally be useful if we suddenly needed to set up a romantic dinner in the middle of a firefight. Seriously.

The other item I modified was to remove the theorized ability to super-charge others like had happened accidentally to Jenna and Brendan when Danielle had been shot at the lake. I knew Brendan would flip his lid if I did that to them as the experience had really bothered him. Considering the point of the sim was for the team members to develop their own strengths it was only fair if this potential was left out. Besides, I was still somewhat unsure of how to do that consciously in the first place. With my luck I’d cause the recipient to pop like a grape in the microwave.

With that done she carefully fit the weird antenna-bestrewn helmet over my hair, making sure that all the various sensors and electrical pad things had good contact. If anyone peeked in the room they’d have seen what looked like a large anti-submarine mine perched atop a mess of reddish-gold tentacles all draping over the headless body of a scaly and naked sea nymph. Otaku would probably give everything they owned to get a poster of that which was both amusing and disturbing. The thought of shut-in geeks drooling over images of me in general was creepy enough as is.

A tap on the helmet snapped my attention back. “You ready?” Linda asked.

“Uh, sure?” I sounded really odd due to the echoes within the helmet. With my old male voice I could totally have done a mean Darth Vader impersonation in the thing but now I sounded like some cute pop singer whose recording studio was seriously playing with the settings.

“Okay,” Linda said. “Remember the rules. Only use powers via the simulation interface. Got it?”

“Yep.” She had explained that through the helmet’s connection the simulation could trigger the pre-programmed abilities by thinking of the term ‘Go Sim’ followed by the label assigned to the power. So for example, if I wanted to blast something I’d just have to think or say ‘Go Sim Blast!’ and supposedly wherever my hand was aiming would be pulverized. Neat, right?

I might have modified some of the canned phrases too.

“Good. Engaging in 3…2…1…”

There was a loud click and I was suddenly standing in a narrow alley, rain disturbing the reflections of building lights across many puddles lurking across rough gravel. A few compact cars were wedged against stucco walls all having those European-style license plates. You know, those long skinny white ones.

Oh, and Brendan’s squad was standing there too, the four members who could make it anyway. They usually fielded seven but Zap was nowhere to be found and the other two squad-mates were still stuck in English Lit. Okay, there were five if you included me, something I was still dubious about. I still worried about Zap but had been reassured he was still on campus. He’d apparently taken a ‘personal day’—in other words was skipping classes—but given that he’d spent three years as a hawk the school was more than willing to be lenient about his psychological needs.

Rather like Louis had signed me out for the day too.

Brendan stood tall in the alley all outfitted in the team colors: white with pale blue stripes forming the letter ‘Y’. For reasons they hadn’t explained to me they had named themselves the ‘Y’ Team. At least the uniforms weren’t spandex, instead they were composed of layered cloth and armor plates which allowed easy movement. Jenna looked a bit odd with her obsidian armored skin sitting underneath even more protection. Her white eyes and teeth matched the bright whiteness of the outfit, sort of floating in the air as her own dark coloring blended perfectly against the cloudy night we found ourselves standing under.

Danielle and Tamara had the same colors and symbol but were in full leather instead, likely to minimize interference with their magics. In addition to the big letter across their chests, theirs also had all manner of blue and yellow sigils and knotwork covering every inch of fabric, including their boots.

Looking down, I too was wearing white and blue motorcycle-style gear. Except I could feel weird open slits running down the back of the jacket letting the cold dampness from the air settle across exposed shoulder blades.

Oh. Duh. For the wings.

Gunny Bardue’s voice barked loudly across the wireless earbuds.

“Listen up! Nuclear material has been stolen from a NATO base in Southern Italy. It has been determined that the drones which perpetrated the raid were created by Doctor Defenestro, a villainous art thief and brilliant devisor. According to gathered intelligence he is working on a miniaturized fission bomb with the intention to hold Brussels hostage via a drone in order to demand that all Renaissance artwork located world-wide be returned to its native Italy. He owns two known places of interest: a large estate near Rome where his laboratory is believed to be located and also a small warehouse in the hills above Venice. Team Y’s task is to search the warehouse for the stolen fissile material in case he stashed it there, retrieve it if found, and also to destroy any discovered progress towards the fission bomb prototype we believe he has been constructing. Reports are that Doctor Defenestro himself is currently at his estate. Another UN team will be hitting that location simultaneously. Your team leader has been briefed in full. Good luck. Control out.” Gunny’s link went perfectly silent.

I was disappointed. Signing off should have had the whole static ‘shhhkk’ sound effect like in all proper sci-fi shows. Alright, so I also found the mission premise to be silly, what with the threatened nuclear annihilation due to misplaced art and all. It just reinforced that I was about to play a super-high-tech video game with a bunch of kids.

Brendan however was taking it very seriously. “Squad, form up!”

Jenna proudly stood at attention before him, with Danielle and Tamara moving to her side. Huh, come to think of it, Brendan was the only guy here. Lucky him.

“Aradia! Get in the line for mission consult!” Brendan barked. Oops, use of codenames was apparently in effect. ‘Tank’ pointed to where I should be standing. I obliged him, arms crossing over the suped-up biker jacket.

Tank continued. “Right. This warehouse is supposed to be a storage site for pieces of art that Defenestro has ‘recovered from foreign pilfering’ and is filled with crates and palettes of ancient art. That being said it likely has defensive drones guarding it. They could consist of various combat models—including aerial—and are likely outfitted with conventional small arms as well as some devisor tech weaponry.”

Danielle—sorry, ‘Shioc’ (pronounced like ‘shook’)—raised her hand and Tank nodded at her to go ahead.

“Do we know if his gear has any magic resistance?” She slid a wet strand of hair away from her eyes. The captured level of detail of our appearances in here was incredible.

“It shouldn’t,” Tank replied. “The NATO base had one practitioner stationed there. He was able to take down two drones before they got away. So our advantage is Shioc and Sigil.” He pointed his two index fingers at Danielle and Tamara.

I had to speak up. “Is there a way to detect the radioactive material? And if it could be used in a weapon it’s got to be of sufficient concentration that we don’t want to be exposed to it.” Tank’s eyes narrowed with disapproval. Oh, I guess I hadn’t raised my hand and gotten the ‘squad commander’s’ permission to speak. I smiled innocently, earning an actual scowl in response. Okay, it wasn’t all that innocent. Can I get an ‘A’ for effort though?

He answered anyway. “Our wrist computers have built-in detectors. Range of twenty feet. They are supposed to be sensitive enough to work through any shielding, but I’d like Sigil to think of a way to detect it with magic. Just in case and at greater range if possible.”

That was actually smart. I nodded my approval, which he ignored.

Aiming a palm at the textured white wall near us, Tank used a gizmo in his glove to project an image of a two story building with a red-tile roof. One large roll-up door sat in its middle with some concrete stairs leading to a small door off to the side. “This is the target. I’ll either break the lock on the garage and toss it open, or I’ll just bust through it. That should draw all fire from anything guarding it. Aradia, stand behind me and zap anything that needs zapping. Rockslide,” he said, using Jenna’s codename, “you bust the side door and get Sigil and Shioc inside to evaluate and cast appropriate magics. Shioc, cast your invisibility illusions on us before we go. That should maintain the surprise, even if mine and Rockslide’s will drop when we bust through the doors.”

Now that was interesting. I didn’t know Danielle could do that. Cool.

“We get in,” he continued, “deal with any drones, and find the material if its there.” He caused the image to pull back, showing the warehouse sitting against a hill overlooking the town below and ocean beyond. Above the warehouse, dotting the hillside with lots of little lights, were a few meandering narrow roads and many two-story villas nestled snugly alongside them.

“Hey,” I interjected. “If we can be invisible why not try to sneak in through the side door and get a better look at what’s in there? We’re walking in blind otherwise.”

Tank puffed himself up, which meant he absolutely towered over us. “There’s no time. The assault on the estate will alert Defenestro the authorities are on to him. He might send a remote drone to try and whisk the stuff away, or detonate or something.” Internally I sighed. Brendan was trying to show off to the girls, whether he realized it or not.

Wait a minute. Detonate? Good grief. “Do you know how to disarm a hydrogen bomb?” I asked. “I sure as hell don’t.”

He waved me off. “Sigil can block all wireless transmissions once we get in there. There’ll be no way to for him to transmit any trigger codes.”

That seemed awfully optimistic. “But what if it’s an autonomous-”

Tank cut me off. “We’re out of time, okay? Stick to the plan, Aradia. We’ve barely got a minute left to get there before the UN moves on his estate as it is. Shioc! Cast the stealth spell!”

Shioc started to chant in an ancient tongue, beginning to call on the powers of air and light, but paused when she remembered she was in a sim and not actual reality. Instead she said simply, “Go Sim Invis!” We all flickered and disappeared but for hazy blueish outlines wavering where we had been.

She grinned proudly. “Only the five of us can see where we are. I came up with that last week and showed Circe, so it’s now on my sim list.”

“That’s awesome,” I said and meant it. Both the original and the improvement were impressive.

Tank barked loudly, “Squad Y, are we ready?”

The other three shouted their answer, “Yes sir!”

“And why are we Squad Y?” he demanded to know.

“Y not!” was the giggled reply.

“Let’s move!” They all started running down the alleyway, puddles splashing in their invisible wakes.

I was standing there still shaking my head and suppressing a guffaw when Tank called back to me.

“Aradia! You going to be the slowpoke on this team?”

Slowpoke? “Hell no! Go-go-gadget wings!”

A sound not entirely unlike inflating an inner tube swooshed out behind and with a gentle push of a foot I lifted into the air to quickly overtake the ground lemmings on the squad. Linda had warned me that as they were not given time to do what she called a ‘powers synchronicity calibration’ some of the effects and induced sensations wouldn’t be quite right. The feeling of the wings was far too feathery and lacked the direct feel of the usual channeled energies. And as I flew the steady rain splattering against my face and arms was properly damp and cold but where the droplets hit the wings I felt nothing. Only the ruffling of feathers through the air.

For some reason that wrongness got to me more than anything else.

~o~O~o~

For many years when we were younger my best friend Isaiah and I had often spent weekend afternoons and evenings indulging in table-top role-playing games. Mostly with other guys but occasionally just the two of us for the darker and deeper character material. One thing I knew is that no game scenario should ever turn out to be as simple as it appears. The Game Master always needed to make things surprisingly worse to heighten the tension and up the challenge. Gunny Bardue, the mastermind behind this simulation of ours, definitely had not struck me as someone who would violate that sacred rule.

If anything he’d likely be like Isaiah and pile on crisis after crisis without ever letting up the gas.

Thus I was entirely unsurprised when Tank ripped off the padlock and threw open the warehouse’s main door only to find himself face-to-face with the business end of his namesake.

The machine of war immediately fired its main turret. In a deafening flash and roar Brendan was blown not just across the street but straight through a few buildings on the other side.

Tank meet tank.

Rockslide, bursting through the side door’s glass and steel with her stone-covered body (and therefore losing her own invisibility), cried out, “No!”

This naturally drew instant attention and a side-mounted BMG opened up at her. Fortunately she’d seen the weapon’s targeting and quickly dove back out the doorway, tackling Sigil and Shioc out of the line of fire bursting directly over their heads.

“Jesus,” I breathed, recognizing the full nature of the vehicle that took up most of the warehouse’s interior. It was one of the vehicles I’d operated in Whateley’s crazy combat driving class. “This guy’s got a modified M1A3!” Activating magic sight (’go-go-gadget-eyeballs!’) revealed the entire armored carapace as protected by energetic wardings. “Sigil, Shioc! It’s got defensive magic. The wards might be reactive!”

I heard Shioc curse through the link. “They are, it just tried to fry me instead of its electronics!”

The main turret turned as the tank rolled forward out of the warehouse, taking aim at where the others huddled against the pavement.

“Tank!” Rockslide shouted into her mic. “You alive or out?”

A groan was followed by, “Gimme a moment…”

Fuck. They didn’t have a moment.

“Ah hell,” I muttered. Diving through the air towards the rolling armored beast I called out the trigger code to power myself up another notch. “Control Ark Restriction Release Level One!”

Shioc’s nifty invisibility illusion shimmered away as my exposed skin lit up like the manifestation of a small sun blazing directly into the tank’s cameras. “Surprise!” I shouted before flipping about to air-slide beneath the treads feet first with wings brushing the ground beneath. In configuring the parameters for my simulated strength, Linda had noted that I’d only been powers-tested for strength twice: once at the DPA and once at Whateley after the lake incident.

The test equipment had broken both times.

The cement driveway cracked under my back as I shoved the front of the tank upwards, the wings flaring mightily giving additional lift and leverage. Rockslide, having once again grabbed Sigil and Shioc, retreated sideways in an attempt to avoid the main gun. It fired anyway, jerking the tank for a quick second up and out of my hands.

The shot went high, reducing another set of nearby buildings into fresh rubble. I wondered how many points the team would lose for each civilian casualty. There had to have been people in there. Damn.

Electricity arced across the bottom of the tank, sparking against the glowing fingers digging into the metal. The tank had some kind of anti-personnel field.

It tickled.

“Okay sardine can, time to open up,” I grunted. “Go-go-blast!”

Searingly-bright light pulsed into the under-structure’s armor. As described to Linda and vetted by the DPA’s own recording of my previous lab mishap, the light ripped through the atomic bindings comprising the plating itself. The DPA analysis of the wall I had incinerated reported that it had not ignited per-se but that the base energy making up its existence had been pulled apart. Kind of like shredding the fabric of the fae dream-realm, except that the real world was much more resilient and actively plugged any such tears.

Which, when you think about it, was a damn good thing for the world considering I still had no real clue what the fuck I was doing. But since this was a sim I didn’t have any qualms about going full bore.

It certainly got the job done.

The bottom of the tank disintegrated in a brilliant cascade of sparks, revealing the crew-cabin within. Except no crew was in there, instead there were four humanoid robots busily operating now non-responsive controls. The closest one, likely the driver, swung twin cameras towards me while reaching for a side-arm.

“I think not,” I said and gave the robots one blast each. I aimed another volley through the rear panels at the engine and was rewarded by the whine of a transmission spinning free and slowing down.

In the end I let the whole thing drop to the ground with a loud fwump after I blew through the turret and flew straight up out of the resulting wreckage.

“You guys okay?” I called out as the trio of girls slowly got up from the dirt. Sigil was staring in wide-eyed amazement while Shioc just chuckled.

“Show off,” she said with a grin.

Rockslide, with white eyes beaming from between the granite skin, had a much more disturbing expression. She was staring at me like a child would towards their greatest hero.

Or like a humble follower to their goddess. Shit.

More stucco and plaster collapsed in the ruins left by the two spent tank shells. Tank could be heard trying to make his way back through the rubble.

Flying over to where he scrambled over debris, I floated down. His forcefields must have held against the tank’s shot as his face was still intact though there was some bruising alongside his eyes. He hesitated before taking the offered hand, allowing me to pull him free and get him over to the others.

Sigil was still gaping. “Holy biscuits. How strong are you?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that and fortunately I didn’t have to. A small drone zipped up from behind the tank out of what was clearly a large tunnel leading deep into the side of the hill set into the back wall of the warehouse. From an installed loudspeaker came a calm voice speaking clearly in Italian.

“The Americans will be quite disappointed to learn of the utter failure of their weapons system against you. Their sales shall plummet! Just as the UN interlopers’ spirits shall when they find nothing more at my home than beautiful vineyards and the ignorant yet innocent groundskeepers. Now tell your superiors that the sacred masterpieces shall be returned here to our beloved peninsula or else the heart of the EU shall burn! Defy Dr. Defenestro at your peril!”

The lights in the houses covering the mountains overlooking the small coastline village winked out and went dark.

It was Shioc who said, “Uh oh,” right before the windows of all the villas scattered across the hillside shattered from the launching of thousands of black airborne drones.

I would have made a wisecrack about our villain’s name being entirely too appropriate, but watching those dark shapes spill upwards in their spiraling dance of ascension into the night sky I was hit by a sudden certainty. I’d seen a spectacle like this before, albeit on a much grander scale.

Except in that ancient memory the swarm hadn’t been made of drones.

 

Wet linen drenched in rain and tears covered eyes that nevertheless still witnessed each and every life being snuffed out within the churning waters far below. Two opposing armies had been swallowed by a wall of water which itself had reached towards the sky. The massive central city created by those who had gathered to the knowledge offered by beings claiming to be in service of Heaven washed away into nothing more than shattered glass and broken stone. All that remained was a high and dark mountain jutting out of the frothing waves, pulsing with a corruption and wrongness which tore at perceptions in patterns that should not be. Bound eyes flinched at the sight yet their owner could not look away.

For ultimately she was the agent of their destruction.

Mighty wings not her own beat against the tempest of the unleashed winds, their owner’s strong arm securing her to his side.

“You weep, yet all is as you foresaw,” said the warrior angel more to her mind than aloud as the cataclysms surrounding them was deafening. “This is what you have striven for.”

“That is why I cry all the more.”

“The Nephelim gathered to both sides just as you foretold, and thus their blight has been removed. Only the cancer of chaos unleashed by Azazel remains. Are you certain you cannot burn it away? You wield the Light, as the Morningstar did.”

“I do not. For I am flawed. My spirit cannot contain those magnitudes without shattering. My father recognized my failure; it is why he abandoned me to die in the snow. The corruption before us is beyond my ability to cleanse.”

The warrior shook his head. “If you could only overcome the weakness of humanity within you-”

“That weakness is also a strength! Camael, someday perhaps you will come to understand. My uncle approaches. Let him carry me while you prepare your fighters that this dark day may be finished.”

Lightning flashed to reveal a dark hooded shadow hovering behind, its own wings darker even than the storm and its feathers reaching out as if to bridge the horizons.

Without a word, the warrior offered his precious cargo to the arrived Archangel of Judgment. An onyx arm wrapped around her, pulling her close with a tenderness belying the severity of the angel’s demeanor. Camael beat his own blood-canvased wings against the winds to fly outward and gather the Powers waiting to flock around his crimson flames.

Aradia.

The angel now keeping her aloft whispered yet his voice cut through all other sounds as if they weren’t even there.

“I’m alright, uncle.” She placed a hand over his and took a deep breath. “The outer seal is in place?”

Yes.

“Then Azazel’s disaster cannot escape beyond this world. Take me to its center. You and Camael must finish the binding so the Earth can gain its own reprieve from this foothold of the Abyss. Take me and the light will get you there.”

The black arm gave one more gentle squeeze.

Before them a troupe of thirty armored angels hovered under the roiling clouds awaiting only their blazing leader’s command.

The order came not from him but from the burst of brilliant light exploding forth from within Aradia. She let go of all the carefully constructed barriers which had protected her all the years since the power of the light had claimed her. Rising up from within she felt that power scorch its way through her spirit, consuming her with an ecstasy of heavenly glory and mortal pain.

Yet she did not scream.

The angels could not help but follow the blazing meteor formed by the woman and angel as they burned towards the mountain and the swirling insanities under its rock which the energies of Primal Chaos had left as a blight upon the world. Camael’s force flew faster, pulling ahead to form a protective wedge in flight, and they too becoming streaks of fire as the light reached out to each of them granting the strength and unity needed to survive contact with that which was anathema to the Name by which they’d been forged.

As that Light streamed towards the mountain, the Dark spewed foul creatures into the sky. Beings warped by the chaos, shifting and pulsing without definition and without the coherency imposed by the rules for that which is. They had once been angels or Nephelim, but to look upon these creatures now was to view madness unleashed.

Into that tempest the burning angels plunged, pitting essence against essence to bring the Light into the heart of the Darkness within.

 

“Aradia!”

Confusion swam as angels on fire fighting shadows beyond nightmare blended over a swarm of aerial devices spilling above numerous housetops. Which vision called my name?

Danielle’s shout of “Jordan! Snap out of it!” felt like a slap, forcing the latter sight into solidity.

“Uh, sorry.” I blinked, clearing my head. Everyone stared at me with a mix of concern and, in the case of Brendan, suspicion. Oops, I’d have to worry about that other vision some other time.

“You spaced out,” he growled. “We can’t fly; you’re the only one that can get up there and scan for the nuke. If you find it, you have to take it down. Or just take out as many of those drones as you can.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s over a hundred of the damn things.”

“You have to try,” he insisted. “And we’ve got to charge the tunnels and find Defenestro to stop him before he does something stupid like trigger it. If he’s even been able to build one. We can still beat this thing.”

“Those could all be decoys,” I pointed out. “But fine. Sigil, you make any headway on a ranged magic nuke detector?”

She shook her head. “Not that I can give you to use.”

“Damn. Good luck in the tunnels.” With that I took to the sky.

The others formed up behind Tank as they ran into the warehouse and its waiting hillside passages which was probably filled with all kinds of nasty traps.

A few drones the size of small dogs broke off from the main swarm in order to intercept my ascent. It wasn’t until I’d taken out three of them with quick blasts that I realized something was horribly awry. I hadn’t used the simulation trigger command to zap the drones. I’d simply willed their patterns to shatter into bits of plastic and electronics that fell along with the pouring rain all over the buildings below.

Meanwhile the glowing feathers sweeping through the air behind me were feeling the impact of each individual raindrop.

Shit.

Chapter 7 - Visions

Smacking the direct emergency channel button located on a wrist, I shouted into the comms.

“Linda, you’d better be hearing this!”

Through crackling and popping she responded. “Aradia, I hear you. Barely.”

I asked the most pressing question first. “Can you still see me in the sim chair?”

More static. “I see you. But CPU and memory usage is spiking. What’s going on?”

“Is my hair spilling out from under the helmet? Dammit, hang on.” I had to pause to blast two more drones that had opened fire with mounted SMGs at my position in the air.

“Uh. No. I don’t see any hair. Wait a minute. Your suit just deflated in on itself! Oh my god!”

Oh crud. “Linda! Get the kids out, you hear me? Disconnect them all! Now!” Wheeling about in the air, I dodged another drone that had tried to ram me with its nasty looking razor-edged wings. Another curse, and it joined its fellows in the growing debris on the ground.

Linda didn’t waste any time. The sky lit up with the words ‘Mission Abort’ which followed with a three second warning that quickly ticked down.

Several cries of “What?” burst across the squad channel. Tank shouted, “We’re not done! We’ve got-”

The channel went dead. It was my turn to shout. “Linda? Linda!”

“Still here. The rest of the squad is out, Aradia. Repeat, squad is out. Except the abort override didn’t trigger for you! You still show as being in the simulation, but where’s your body?” Her voice was fraught with a panic busy fighting against her training. And it was getting harder to understand her past the growing static across the line. That whole complaint about no static noise on the link? Yep, I’m an idiot.

“I think I’m fully in the sim!” I yelled. “Keep it running! Got it? Until I can figure this out!”

More static, then total silence. Ah shit. I hoped she heard the last bit.

Another set of drones charged at me, guns blazing. Pulsing with further light, I knocked them from the sky as well. “For fuck’s sake. Quit it, dammit!”

A larger one hovered at a distance. “Mai,” a voice said in Italian over another mounted loudspeaker. “You surrender! You cannot defeat my superior defenses. Just teleport away like your cowardly compatriots!” Good grief. Doctor Defenestro was still being simulated.

“Defenestro! Listen up you half-baked villain! You aren’t real, got it? So shut up and give me a minute!” I needed time to think. If I was in the sim then maybe it could be treated like a spirit realm. All things considered powering up for real seemed like a good idea.

“Not real? What madness is this? You think trickery will grant you victory?” More of the drones formed up in a half sphere around my spot in the sky. “You are surrounded.”

Ignoring the sight my eyes provided, I shifted to what I could see with my mind and spirit. Like when examining the fae queen’s dream realm, I tried to get a sense of the place I found myself in.

That actually worked better than I’d hoped.

The drones appeared as simple sets of instructions, all tethered to a central command within the hill below. The houses, their contents, the roads and shoreline and everything, was made up of similar squiggles of code. Hierarchies of data objects filled my inner vision, and the architecture of the sim’s computer programming manifested to the sight. It was highly optimized and the data sets only went so far in complexity. The engine for Artificial Intelligence however was pulsing with increasing power use.

Defenestro kept talking. “Of course I am real! I am a genius! And Brussels will comply with my demands or will pay the severest consequences!”

“That doesn’t even make sense, you know that?” I shouted back at the drone. “You want to bring all that artwork back to Italy, right?”

“Of course! Michaelangelo and DaVinci, all of the great masters, their works belong in their native homes in our beloved country!”

“How many works of art that you care about are in Brussels? You nuke that city and they’re toast. And you do realize that Italy wasn’t a country back then? It was a set of city-states!”

The AI code dimmed then pulsed rapidly even brighter than before.

“Why would I…I should have known this,” Defenestro muttered. “My life. I must examine my life.”

The drones started to stream back towards the houses. One of them caught my attention before disappearing through a shattered window. Its code was a lot more complicated than the others.

Oh crap. That one had the nuke.

Willing a burst of speed, I burned through the air towards that window and the drone inside, trying to keep its code distinct from the rest in my mind while memorizing the path it took through the hill based on the collision vector calculations it performed as it went.

Yeah, I could see those too if I tried.

“My memories,” Defenestro was saying, “Such holes. Such large holes. Everything is wrong. What am I?”

Across the rooftops hundreds of simulated TV satellite dishes activated, only to vainly search the airwaves for signals that did not exist.

“The world,” Defenestro said in quiet shock. “It is not there.”

His code had become blazingly bright and had quadrupled in resource usage. That’s when I realized it. He was growing. He was learning. And he was feeding off the light that was shining through me.

My presence, my light, was making him more real.

“Hang tight, Doctor. We can talk about it!” Having plunged into the house, I punched through intervening walls and floors until reaching the catacombs that had been carved out underneath. The drone with the nuclear payload was reaching the center of it all with me only a few seconds behind.

“Without the art, without such beauty, what point is there in being?” he cried, tormented with a horrible anguish.

Oh no.

“Defenestro! Don’t do it! Don’t-”

I was too late. The weapon triggered, causing all the code to flash this horrible shade of blaring crimson. And then everything disappeared.

The nuke had crashed the simulation.

~o~O~o~

Have you ever had the rear legs of a chair snap out from under you? There’s that sudden panic because there’s nothing you can do, you’re falling inevitably backwards until your butt and the floor become much more intimate.

It was rather like that.

You’d think I’d have gotten used to this kind of thing considering all the weirdness and spirit travel I’d been doing lately. Like when I’d powered up to yell at Sandalphon through August’s connection to the Book of Life and almost went mad from seeing the whole of the tapestry of everything all at once. Or chasing after Tsáyidiel through all those dream realms or the time the crazy MRI device scrambled all perceptions.

But you don’t get used to it. Not really. You think you do but later back in the real world, when once again you’ve got an actual body and the ground is happily solid beneath your feet, the memories of the experiences don’t translate well and come out jumbled. Like there are modes of perception for which a mortal and thus constrained mind is simply not equipped to deal with.

What I do remember is that the simulation ceased. I fell through nothing and everything, desperately trying to hook on to anything to regain a coherency of thought and perception. Twice before I’d been saved by someone else’s voice guiding towards stability, but not this time.

This time I was on my own.

Thousands upon thousands of images flickered past and the more I tried to latch on the quicker they slipped away.

 

Pyramids rising from the sands, simple geometry serene under the noon-day glare. Yet underneath, hidden from all mortal eyes, lay an enchantment stretching across the globe. A working of immense power and skill sitting dormant. Waiting.

A lanky yet solid boy on the cusp of maturity kneels alone within a room, wrestling against inner prejudices conflicting with his own experiences all while praying fervently to a god he’s unsure whether to believe in or to curse. By the pillow on the bed rests a silver box-cutter with extended blade.

Upon a dreary landscape of rock and stone, a man with skin once tortured and ravaged by a terrible fire watches a tiny spark sputter across a sky that has never known sun nor stars, weary eyes tracking its passage and knowing there is scant time to get to it before such light is lost forever.

A large scroll sits open across a soldier’s lap, the canvas of his tent whipping back and forth in rising winds. No stranger to swords and battle he reads of a more ancient struggle written in a language never meant for men. Tears streaming forth from the uprising of guilt over memories of slaughter and sacrifice that can never be washed away.

In a beautiful garden, lush with colors more fervent and glorious than the limits of any rainbow, resides a tree with branches spilling upward laden with fruit which sparkles and shimmers brighter than any sun. A delicate hand possessed of infinite grace plucks an offering, hesitates, then takes one more.

Anger unleashes a mug adorned with a red cross to shatter against a wall as a man in a white smock shouts frustration and sorrow. The nurse, her own sorrow soaking her mask, slowly pulls the now-stained sheets over the face of another child lost to the ravages of rebellious biology. The other sick children in the rows of beds lining the make-shift hospital use thin blankets to try and cover their own horrible fears.

A gate stands taller than is perceivable, golden and glimmering with all the perfection of gemstone-laden adornments and inscriptions carefully crafted with loving power. A horn’s trumpeting blast sounds against the infinite wall it guards, calling with sacred ritual for entry to the multitude who gather before it, the echoes ringing with all their hopes and their fears. No notes are returned in answer and so the horn sounds again.

Upon a red-stoned mountain a figure extends wings and perceptions across a wide valley to plunge beyond its barrier of fence and wire. The cries and stench of death pour forth from rising souls untimely cast free of their earthly bindings, and with a will the figure draws away their sufferings.

The air above a freshly landscaped patio twists as black-armored figures emerge from a rift over the concrete. A device is lobbed skyward and arcs above the newly completed mansion and its many rooms, the small orb flashing with a pulse which overwhelms the power grid to cause the many security lights and cameras to fall dark under the clear night sky. Their leader gestures and they scatter to surround the building, eager to once again perform the Lord’s work and rid the world of a threat left behind by angels who had embraced blasphemy and turned their backs on God. Latin words lay upon lips and upon hearts steeled firmly against the one they had come to hunt. One runs past an incongruous old blue pickup parked in an otherwise immaculate driveway, a small and battered truck with seats and paint far removed from its better days and yet still clinging to the remnants of the college sticker placed within the cabin window.

Light pulses with recognition and sudden alarm to stream forward with determined speed.

 

Bright shop-lights bravely tried to blind, but were pitifully weak compared to that which had just entered the room.

A man’s voice shouted out despite the shock of such sudden brilliance. “Freeze! Don’t move!” I sensed more than saw the heavily modified assault rifle in his hands as he took aim.

Hands. Right.

Looking down at streamers of light still billowing off my manifestation, I tried to breathe and focus. The light dimmed slowly, coalescing into fingers and skin plus all the things they were supposed to cover.

“Oh my god,” gasped the man’s partner, his training fighting with the desire to drop to knees in supplication.

Wait, supplication? Uh oh.

“Be not afraid,” I said, trying to sound casual. A bare glowing foot touched cold floor sending sparks flashing through the intricate spiraling sigils covering the walls and ceiling. Oops, I hadn’t meant for it to do that.

Yet the feeling of the place was weirdly comforting like being wrapped in a cozy blanket on a cool winter’s night. Warm and safe. Then it hit me. I knew where I was.

Okay, so the letters that spelled ‘DPA’ emblazoned across the men’s flak jackets also helped.

“The storage unit,” I marveled, looking around at all the markings filling the space where Soren had once taken Danielle. Where he had tied her to a chair, filled the area with insanely powerful energies, and hid inside his own protective circle to watch her crazy uncle desperately run in to save her. Where that uncle had died, incinerated by the unleashed forces before returning as something else entirely.

Much like I had just done again.

Not that I had leisure to reflect on all of that. Isaiah. The pickup at that mansion was his old jalopy, his tie and anchor to more humble college days.

And those Latin-chanting soldiers wanted to kill him.

“The protocol,” hissed the first guy. “Follow the protocol!”

The second blinked before fumbling for a button on his helmet, flipping down its visor. “Scanning now!”

I took a step towards them but the first shouted again. “I said, don’t move! Or I’ll shoot!”

“Your Director, I must speak with him.” I smiled, hopefully disarmingly.

Yeah, he ignored that and rambled into his headset instead. “We have entry, repeat we have entry! Non-human, engage lock down!”

Sirens blared from outside the room. The segmented storage door was shut and these guys had two metal chairs sitting behind a knocked over folding table together comprising the only changes to what had been in here the last time I’d seen it.

The second guy’s helmet chirped. “Energy pattern recognized! It’s her!” he said excitedly.

Wings pulled the rest of the way into the small space, crystalline-filament tips brushing the floor and causing Soren’s runes to react with a cavalcade of color.

“State your name!” demanded gun-aimed-at-me guy.

“Amariel,” I answered without hesitation. Wait, that’s not a name they would know, right? “Sorry, my name is Jordan. Jordan Emrys.”

The tip of the gun lowered slightly. “And your original name?”

Sigh. “Justin Thorne. Happy now?”

Both of them visibly relaxed. “Identity confirmed,” the one reported. “Notify the Director.”

“Look guys, I’m sure you have all kinds of things you’re supposed to do should something like this happen, debriefing and all that. But I don’t have the time.”

On the floor lay a smart phone where it must have landed when the table got knocked over. I picked it up and swiped left. Oh goody, it didn’t have a password on it.

“Hey,” helmet scanning guy objected. “That’s mine.”

I gave him a glare, eyes flashing with a quick burst and he backed off. Good boy.

Punching in a number I waited for the cell networks to give a connection. “C’mon Isaiah,” I muttered. “For once answer your damn phone.” It went straight to voicemail as if his phone was turned off.

It’s never off. He just never answers it.

Instinct screamed with urgency. Blazing fingers brought up a map app and an address. Isaiah had built a new house, one which I’d never been to. I was supposed to go visit him at Thanksgiving along with Danielle. Memorizing how to get there, I tossed the phone back at helmet guy. “Send a combat team to that address. My friend is in danger!”

He caught it and just stared at it like it had grown a tentacle.

“Now!” I shouted. “And get this door open or I’ll blast it like I did three months ago and this time with a lot more than just a shotgun!”

“We’re not allowed to-”

“Do it.” I summoned a brighter ball of light to a palm.

They opened the door.

~o~O~o~

By the time I reached the roof I’d realized a few things.

Firstly, the DPA had clearly taken control of the entire storage facility. There were guards at the ends of each hallway, with camera bundles installed at regular intervals sporting multi-colored lenses and odd antennae sticking out all over.

Secondly, I could feel the echoes of what had happened here. Soren’s massive spellwork was still intact, etched not only into the unit where Danielle had been held prisoner but into all the neighboring ones. Given that only some were open and others not, maybe he did the entire floor. But my wings really liked the residual energies, tingling with a pleasant buzz as they passed through the lingering lines of force.

And thirdly, I was again clothed in the same lavender toga-like dress that I somehow found myself wearing when traveling to the fae realms. The one with the two strips of vertical fabric barely covering certain assets that also left the back bare for wings to freely float about. Many of the guards openly gaped as we went past, and not at the wings.

I’d call ‘em pervs but a few short months ago I would have been similarly transfixed. No bra meant things were, shall we say, bouncy. And if it wasn’t for it being totally out of place in contrast to the guards’ tactical armor I would have admitted it was a pretty dress.

I spun around on the rooftop to get my bearings for the Los Angeles area. Only a few stars had overcome the city’s illumination to hang naked in the open sky above. A waxing moon had risen in the East to shine over the innumerable houses comprising the Southern California sprawl. The trail of airplane lights led from LAX all the way to that moon, each in line for their precious landing slot at the busy terminals.

One of the agents who’d followed held out a phone. “It’s the Director, ma’am. He wishes to talk.”

I took it. “Goodman,” I said into the device. “I’ve wanted to talk with you for over a month and now that you’re finally on the line I’m in a total rush.”

“And a good evening to you, Ms. Emrys. I will try to make this short and hope we can discuss things further later.”

“Go for it.”

“Are you well? Whateley reported you missing two days ago.”

Two days? I checked the date on the phone. Sure enough it read eight PM…two days after we’d gone into the sim. Holy fuck. “Uh, as well as can be, I think. Got caught between existences.”

“I won’t even pretend to understand what you mean by that, but will inform the Academy that you’re alive. The agents on site report you’ve also requested a combat team. Why?”

How the heck to explain? “Visions, Director. Some kind of assassination squad is going to attack Isaiah Cohen. You have the address and as soon as I’m off the phone I’m flying there directly.” Just describing it increased the feeling of impending doom.

“Visions,” he repeated. “Care to elaborate? And do you have a flight license yet? Otherwise you should take a car. The airspace in LA is heavily restricted and monitored.”

“I don’t have time for this,” I growled. “If I get a ticket just fix it. Send a team, I’m out.”

I tossed the phone with its likely annoyed head of Western Operations for the Department of Paranormal Affairs to the agent. He fumbled and almost dropped it.

As for me I was already airborne. And suddenly really hoping none of the agents on the roof had gotten a good look up the toga dress because the cool breeze rushing along underneath was clearly an indication of an utter lack of underwear. You’d think that after letting Zap get an exclusive view in the dreamlands that my subconscious would have crafted some panties or something to cover up. But nope.

I suppose I should count my blessings that I hadn’t appeared in the unit completely naked. You know, like the last time I’d been there.

Climbing higher, I got a better view of exactly where I was in the middle of West Los Angeles. Isaiah’s house was on an estate off of Mulholland Drive in the hills overlooking Bel Air and most of Santa Monica. I knew of a couple streets that climbed up there, but identifying the right ones from above was going to be tricky.

Deciding to cheat I followed the brightest trail that led up the hill: the 405 freeway. The steady stream of red lights heading north and white lights coming the other way made it an incredibly easy beacon for anyone in the skies. Mullholland crossed it near the top; I could make my way from there.

Having had a few flight training sessions at Whateley, I knew I had to be careful. We’d discovered that if I didn’t focus on going slow and steady I had a tendency to not only overshoot my destination by fifty miles or so but also to shatter the sound barrier in doing so. While I really had to get to my friend quickly, I didn’t want to cause everyone’s windows to explode into deadly shards of glass from the passing shockwave.

I tried to only go about double the speed of the nighttime traffic as I didn’t have the handy altimeter and gps-based speedometer wrist-band that the class at Whateley provided. Thus by the time I found the right side street to head to his house, Director Goodman’s power-armored three-man squad had caught up to me.

They had regulation blinking lights that were very easy to spot as they moved through the sky. Of course given my own streaking meteor-like shininess, I wasn’t exactly Ms. Stealthy.

“Jordan Emrys!” The guy in front called out, using his jetpack to hover nearby. “Follow us, ma’am! It’s a few more streets over. That’s the long way around.”

Oh.

“You guys got here quick,” I remarked as I flew up to join the squad.

“Had a report of a powered alien attacking a mini-mart in Van Nuys not far from here,” the guy said. “Turned out to be a clerk high on psychedelics. I’m Captain Evans, by the way.” Guided by his built-in gps, we bee-lined towards the address.

The whole area was dark, all the street-lights were out. Remembering the thing the attackers threw that knocked out all power, I had a sinking feeling. “They’re already there. They used some kind of EMP!”

We zipped past numerous pines and other trees which granted these estates privacy from each other. I’ll say this much, Isaiah’s neighborhood was impressive. Large sprawling complexes with swimming pools, fountains, and tennis-courts. He’d dreamed of having that kind of wealth ever since I’d met him, looked like he’d finally gotten there.

Now if we could just keep him alive to enjoy it.

From a couple houses away I spotted his old Nissan truck in the large driveway, sitting exactly as it had appeared in the vision.

“That’s it!” I pulled ahead of the squad, gathering more energy as I did so. Any attackers that I found were going to be immediately blasted. I didn’t care if it was all the way to their Kingdom Comes.

Maybe it was the powering up, but I suddenly felt it. Not a wrongness exactly, but a total stillness. Like the calmness and serenity of an undisturbed pond, or the resting note in the middle of a mighty symphony that lent the whole piece its emotional gravity.

Or like the tunnel I pulled Miguel’s soul out of before he had crossed completely to the other side.

“Evans! STOP!” I shouted, spinning about mid-air to charge at the Captain in a front-flying tackle.

He didn’t have time to react and we collided which shoved him back a good twenty yards. His squadmates, surprised by the maneuver, spun about to give chase with weapons ready.

“Nobody get any closer to the house!” I shouted as I shoved Evans even further away from the property.

His helmet mask popped up. “What the hell are you doing?” I could tell he was doing his best to control the desire to try and judo-flip me. But he must have had orders to follow my lead.

Director Goodman was indeed a good man.

“Saving your life,” I replied. “If you have any magic scanning capability, use it on the house.” Carefully I let him go.

His squad-mate held a hand towards the estate while a set of radar-dish like panels swirled into formation at his palm. “Oh god,” he said after a moment.

“What is it, Harris?” asked Evans.

“Sir,” Harris answered with a swallow. “There’s some kind of magic field surrounding the estate.”

By the light I was giving off I could see it. All the plants, the hedges, the lawn, and the trees within a ten foot radius from the house were dying. As in turning black with their leaves falling off one by one.

Birds also had fallen out of the now-empty branches to lie motionless on the ground.

“Death,” I said, heart sinking. “They used some kind of major death spell.”

“Jesus,” breathed Evans. “Everyone pull back.”

“It’s expanding, sir!” proclaimed Harris. “Slow but steady!”

I looked around at the nearby houses past all the trees, all of whom were also still without power. Those residents would have no idea what was going on. How wide would this thing get?

“Evacuate all those houses,” I snapped to Evans. “And get a perimeter blocked off.”

“Can you stop it?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But I’m going in.”

With his visor up there was nothing hiding his expression. He looked at me like you’d look at a woman in need of a comfy jacket and some cozily padded walls. “Won’t it kill you too?”

“I’ve already died once, Captain. Possibly twice. If it happens again I’ll see you back at that damn storage unit!”

With that I flew directly towards the front doors of what I desperately hoped hadn’t become Isaiah’s tomb. If he had died I didn’t know what I would do. Maybe challenge the Angel of Death directly to get him back.

Because if I had to I’d so kick the Grim Reaper’s ass to save my friend.

Chapter 8 - Judgment

He stood again before that waterfall of memory.

For fifteen nights Isaiah had been pulled here in his dreams. For fifteen nights the cascading water had immersed him in the details of his life, experiencing anew the critical moments of sadness, of joy, of anger, and of love which had steered and guided the thread of his path from birth to the present. Each night that voice both terrible and magnificent echoed across the scene, ordering him to examine and review.

And to judge.

He was sick and tired of it all. Waking up each morning raw from ripping clear the bandages of time had left him pensive and irritable. Poor Tracy had taken the brunt on more than one occasion, leaving him fumbling later on trying to make amends yet unable to explain to her why he kept arising out of bed with tears barely held in check or with a rage that had destroyed more than its share of disposable pens.

Not to mention a few coffee mugs.

Now the scenes shimmering into view before him were ones he had dreaded most and fervently did not wish to relive; he did so enough every day in his thoughts back in the waking world. Because there she was. Sonya. Beautiful and elegant yet damaged and broken, sitting at that intimate dining table wearing that luscious red dress and gold hoop earrings all the while laughing at jokes offered by a first date’s desperate attempts to overcome his own nervousness.

She was lovely then. But he knew where it would all lead.

“Stop. Just stop!” he cried, trying to will the dream image to stay put and not envelop him. “We don’t need to do this.”

You must judge.

“Judge what? That I was a complete idiot? Like I don’t already know!”

Silence broken only by the soft susurrus of the waterfall was the only reply.

Fingernails dug into palms. “She used me. Claimed she was pregnant and faked the medical report. So yes, I married her, wanting to do the right thing for her and for the child. My child. God help me, I loved her.”

He didn’t need the watery cascade to show him. These moments were forever seared into his mind.

“Then the bills and the bank statements came in. And the paraphernalia hidden under the car seat, well-used and damning evidence. But she was clever, wasn’t she? Claiming a miscarriage had driven her to their use. That she had been terrified of my finding out. And all the promises to clean up, to do better.”

Snorting, he continued. “How many rehab treatments did I enroll her in over the next couple years? Three? Four? She never completed a single one. The excuses were oh so many. The doctors were abusive at this facility. Or she was doing so much better, and wouldn’t it be a waste of money to continue? Yet I wanted to believe her, so much so that I never told friends or family what was going on. Using the excuse that I didn’t want her, my wife, to be embarrassed later when this was all in the past. Our future children didn’t need to know. She called me her savior, her knight in shining armor.

“I was blind. So blind that when she said she was pregnant again I rejoiced. But this time I insisted I go with her to the doctor for her checkup, concerned about her health and supposed recovery. And we fought.”

There on the ledge, with the strange innumerable banners swaying in an unfelt wind behind, he fell to his knees. “The truth was then revealed. In her anger at my stubbornness, she lashed out. She had lied about the pregnancy only to try and make me happy. She knew I wanted a child. She blamed her addictions on me as well - from my working long hours and leaving her all alone.

“When she declared that she’d been sleeping with another associate at the firm I lost it. If she had been within reach I might have lashed out with a fist. But she was wily enough to be across the room when tossing that in my face. Instead I threw her out.” Isaiah laughed bitterly. “And you want me to judge myself in this?”

Yes.

“Fine! I admit it. I knew what would happen to her if I cut her off, pulling the only rug that had kept her stable out from under. In my rage I used every last bit of the power of the law to not only divorce her but to make sure she got nothing more from me. Despite her begging and pleading after, that she was sorry, that she needed help and that I was her only hope, I said no. I made sure she would be punished for what she did. And oh yes, I knew where it would lead. I knew.”

He remembered the phone call from the coroner on that hot July night. Remembered identifying her hollow and emaciated body as it lay on the slab in the torn remains of the navy blue blouse he had once given her, remembered the autopsy declaration of an overdose.

In a whisper he spoke again. “I have judged myself every day since. Marveled at my gullibility and her manipulations. Because whether I wish it or no, I still love her.”

He fell silent, heart and rage swirling madly within. The whole situation here, in these dreams, was absurd. What was the point of this torture? To drive him mad?

“By what should I judge?” he suddenly asked, shattering that quiet. “As a lawyer the question devolves into bending the meaning of words to fit the ends our clients require, trusting—perhaps naively—that with adequate representation from opposing counsel somewhere in the middle the truth can be discovered, measured, and weighed by a neutral party be it jury or judge. I broke no laws, violated no compacts, and yet there is guilt. Am I a Cain or an Abel, victim or victimizer? Which should I be in this farce of a review: prosecution or defense? Surely it is clear my biases are tremendous and will never be overcome.”

Regaining his feet, he turned to face the colorful banners twisting between the marble columns, eyes searching for the source of that voice. “I say to you then simply this: I recuse myself! I can no more be a proper judge of my own self than any man could for we are frail yet strong, deluded yet righteous. If I am to ultimately be judged it must be by a power greater than me that sees all and knows all, one who encompasses the comprehension of all sides and experiences, who balances mercy and severity in perfect measure. Not by men, and I daresay not even by spirits such as yourself! To the Most High’s Judgment shall I submit and only His!”

Isaiah’s voice reverberated through the strange temple, bouncing and returning off unseen ceiling and walls. His words cast outward also rushed inward as a mighty vibration, resonating deeply within as if a tuning fork had excited the many strings of a violin—nay an entire orchestra—with the sound of a single and perfect note that shook him to his core.

You learn wisdom.

Trembling he asked, “Is that it then? Are we done?”

No.

“What happens now?”

You awaken.

 

There was a wrongness when he opened his eyes. The room was too dark and it took a fuzzy moment to blink away all the lingering questions and emotions from the dream to realize why.

The power was out.

Worse still the emergency backup lights, supposedly guaranteed to kick on in the case of an outage, had not engaged. Fumbling at the mahogany nightstand his fingers found the smart phone and pressed the button on its side.

It too remained dark.

He paused, various scenarios running through his mind. Sliding out of bed and into leather slippers, he grabbed and donned his glasses before moving quietly to the walk-in closet. A panel inside the closet was also dark; his access to the safe room was cut off.

And Tracy was downstairs.

Over blue-striped pajamas slid a kevlar vest taken from the hooks set into the back of the closet door. He quickly fastened the velcro straps to get it snug around his chest. A key dangling from a ring set behind immaculately pressed shirts and pristine suit jackets was retrieved and used to open a moderately sized gun safe revealing several rifles and handguns.

He ignored those to retrieve the single shotgun, checking that it was indeed loaded. A container of foam earplugs sat on a shelf in the safe, he pulled out two and wedged them in his ears. Yes it would dull his hearing, but a shotgun blast inside the house would be deafening and likely disorienting. Not something he could afford. He also grabbed a telescoping small dentist’s mirror usually employed to check the barrels of the rifles after cleaning.

Thus armed and armored he glided to the bedroom door which exited to the hallway. He cracked it open, extending the mirror into the hall to check its shadows for any movement.

None seen, so far so good.

With that he carefully made his way down the hall to the curved stairs that lined the entry way, crouch-walking as he went to keep a lower profile.

Halfway down the steps the dim light of the moon streaming through the frosted glass framing the double-door entrance gave him warning, and with the shotgun planted firmly into his shoulder he braced as a tall man’s shadow crept up the stairs into his sights. Without hesitation the roar of the shotgun blast was as loud as he’d considered.

The launched pellets never hit their target. Before impact a blue sphere flashed outward to surround the man, deflecting the shot in all directions but him, chewing up the freshly painted drywall. As Isaiah frantically worked the pump for another round, the figure simply gestured.

Isaiah’s entire body was seized by a terrible force and launched upward over the wide railing only to crash into the floor below, his weapon clattering and spinning away out of reach towards the entrance to the living room. The impact rattled his senses (did those ribs just crack?), his focus momentarily blurred around another figure stepping out from the living room.

Instead of another attacker, it was Tracy. The shotgun had landed at her feet from where she had pressed to the wall just inside the other room. Scooping up the weapon she shouted a fierce cry as she fired, taking quick aim to send round after round through the balustrade. The blasts were deafening even through the ear protection as chips of sharp wood exploded through the air.

She was beautiful. Scarlet hair flowing across white silk with a warrior’s face aglow with fierce intensity in the soft light of the moon.

The man on the stairs, safely ensconced behind the protective field, simply ignored her attack and walked over the shattered debris, his dark eyes fixated on Isaiah alone.

There was a smaller pop from the hall leading to the garage, followed by another. And another. A second person in black, shorter than the first but more heavily armored, was firing their own weapon at the furious banshee that was Isaiah’s legal assistant.

Her silken dressing gown bloomed with blossoms of pure crimson. With confusion, Tracy met Isaiah’s horrified eyes.

“Boss?”

Knees buckled and she fell to the floor.

A wordless sound of horror escaped his throat as he scrambled over to his fallen assistant’s side. Hands pressed against those wounds, lifeblood spilling across the palms.

The second intruder pointed their weapon at Isaiah, kicking the shotgun away.

“Unfortunate,” said the man within the electric sphere. “But she falls to noble purpose and will be accepted into Heaven’s grace.” His accent was foreign but the English was clear.

Tracy choked once, more of that red spilling from lips that quivered as if trying to speak.

“Save your breath,” Isaiah said with false calm, ignoring the gun now aimed closely at his head.

“Her fate of glory will not be yours,” continued the man from the stairs as he crossed marble now stained with blood and splinters. “For your destination, oh spawner of those that should never have been, lies elsewhere.” From a pocket on his tactical belt he produced a large silver coin, holding it towards Isaiah as if it were a cross capable of warding off evil.

The one with the gun said, “Don’t move asshole.” A woman’s voice, full of hatred and loathing.

Isaiah ignored them, focusing only on his friend. “Stay with me, Tracy. Stay!”

The coin began to glow, pulling in the light shed by the moon and all the blue power protecting the intruder who continued talking. “With this do I release you, Grigori, abandoner of Heaven, from the Wheel of Life. With this do I cast you from the Earth unto the fires of Hell. This world shall suffer your cursed presence no more!”

There was a tug, as if slimy tendrils had slipped past Isaiah’s ribs and grabbed hold of his spine. A pain beyond the physical built against that pressure, demanding surrender, demanding he let slip the bounds of the world. Like a fire curling around every nerve it pulsed, trying to steal his soul free.

That would mean abandoning her. Not going to happen.

He screamed through the terrible agony but his hands stayed put over the wounds of his friend.

Tracy coughed once, and with a shudder her chest failed to rise. There, on his floor, all her hopes and futures had suddenly been forever silenced.

With the skin of a palm once blackened by the touch of an angel and now covered with her blood he felt her slip away.

He trembled, and not from the spell that fought to send his soul after hers. A fire far greater than the one cast by the coin filled him, a tempest of rage the likes of which he had never allowed himself to feel. Always it had been contained, shoved down inside. Even with his wife’s provocations he’d kept it fully controlled.

But now it demanded release, obedient no longer and reaching out to touch the world.

Because it was too easy. That line between life and death was so slender, so weak. It was all too simple to slice the threads which had led to such marvelous potentials. All those threads which had unraveled while he had watched, his darkened palm unable to hold them in place.

And these intruders. These murderers. Their threads still shone so bright. It was wrong. They had no right. Tracy deserved justice.

All of those who’d never had the chance to shine deserved justice.

The woman, sensing something amiss, spoke to her partner with rising alarm. “Why isn’t it working? The Fallen should be cast out by now.”

Sweat pooled across the man’s forehead. “It resists. I do not understand.”

Isaiah’s hand throbbed. That overflowing cauldron of boiling rage filled him with a terrible compulsion and with a word he granted its need.

“Die.”

The woman collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. One moment alive, the next…gone.

All too simple.

A dark gaze turned to the man. Shadows stretched across the room, snuffing out the coin’s stolen light.

“How is that possible? Which one are you?” Eyes widened with a sudden and horrible fear. Because they had seen. They had recognized. “Lord, forgive-”

Isaiah’s shout cut him off. “DIE!”

And he did. Another life’s flame extinguished in an instant.

Cradling a slick black hand against his chest, Isaiah screamed as the power kept growing, reaching outward, searching for further targets upon which to visit the raw agony burning within. A brush of wind found the third member of the hit squad where he stood guarding the back door. Like flipping off a switch, he too perished.

The plants within the house crumpled, leaves darkening into dark husks. The grass and the trees and the birds outside, with a breeze their strands were felled.

He tried to stop it, to pull back the wave pulsing outward with each beat of his heart. But that boundary between living and dead called to him, singing into his blood and mind, offering a final peace from the terrible agony and anger bursting like a fountain within his chest.

Offering a final judgment.

All he had to do was grab it and that peace could be his. His soul ached for it, ached for the resolution and end to the pain. Burned to discover, once and for all, whether it all had merit or if it had been but a mistaken play. So many had suffered, so many potentials cut short or worse, ignored and discarded. But through those ashes, diamonds could be sifted, polished, and measured. And in so doing make it all complete, make it worthwhile. He groaned under the burden of such a yearning, a need not intended for any man to bear. The culmination of an entire majestic symphony seeking for that singular pause before a final and perfect coda.

He almost gave in, almost set that need loose to spill forth across the city, across the world. A wave of night to set it all free.

A single vision of light pierced the covering dark that consumed him.

With reddish-gold hair afire over wings of purest burning glory, she was there.

“Isaiah!”

The power surged in that hand, reacting to her presence. No! “Get away!”

She floated closer. “It’s you, isn’t it. The spell, the death. It’s you.”

Curling himself around that hand, he spoke past clenched teeth. “I can’t stop it.” Not her! Of all people not her!

“You can.” Her voice echoed through the foyer. “Trust your heart and let go.”

“You have to leave,” he whispered.

She knelt over him, her nimbus burning through the darkness around and within. “It can’t hurt me.”

“Please…” That pause in the music swelled further, its moment so close to reaching that severe yet magnificent fruition when all could finally rest.

“Isaiah,” she said gently. “Take my hand.”

Fingers shining forth a wealth beyond gold reached for him. Abandoning himself, he let her hand close around his.

Only then did he remember.

 

“I can’t see! Uncle?” Slender hands twitched emptily but lacked the strength to rise.

Her head lay against his thighs. Dark wings formed a canopy over them both to shield against the fragmenting rock falling from the heights of the cavern above. The ground trembled in mighty protest against the unearthly energies that had been summoned and released within this cave. “I am here.”

“Is it done?” A weak cough wracked her throat as she struggled to draw breath.

Another aftershock racked the cavern, its stones still burning brightly with the power of the Seal. Azazel and all the gathered wrongness of chaos had been forcibly contained, and with a sweep of his blade Azrael had cut it all free from the rest of the fabric of the world. Now its only remaining connection dangled through the guarded bridge which Camael’s sword represented. Camael, Light’s Regent, had bound his holy sword into the working and thereby released himself to join the wheel of life which so constrained the lives and souls of mortals.

The danger to the tapestry had been defeated. The world would be spared the full might of the Host of Heaven and the destruction they would have brought in order to remove a terrible corruption before it could spread to other realms and other worlds.

All made possible by the Light which had consumed the very spirit that wielded it. The structure of Aradia’s soul, part angel and part human, was unable to withstand such a force. Even now that the light no longer flowed, the threads of her spirit unraveled as a stream of glitter rising slowly from her body disbursing into nothingness.

Azrael bowed his head. “It is accomplished.”

Tears dripped from the corners of the bandages binding her face. “I can’t feel it. Uncle, the light! It’s gone!”

Her wailing cry of loss joined the groans of the shaking of the earth.

The Archangel of Judgment remained perfectly still even as heavy stones bounced off his immovable wings. All except for one feather set at a wingtip that kept twitching against its stolid fellows.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for finding me that day. Thank you for not leaving.”

The single feather’s vibration increased.

“It’s so cold.” Lips and skin slowly faded to blue.

The feather suddenly stilled and Azrael spoke quickly. “You must take my hand.” Dark palm moved to hover above her weak fingers.

Words more thought than spoken escaped her. “I’m scared.”

“Aradia. You must.”

The shimmering golden glitter swirled in a mad dance above her body. The barest glowing outline of a hand rose out of an arm which would never move again.

Touching the outstretched hand its spark fell within the obsidian skin as a solitary star swallowed by an otherwise empty night sky.

Chapter 9 - Riders

My best friend was the Angel of Death.

That thought kept reverberating around in my head as Captain Evans’ armored suit burst through the door to find us both huddled against the wall. It repeated while he directed his team to search the house, assisted by even more combat-geared men and women all wearing full hazmat suits complete with their own air supplies.

It didn’t make any sense yet it was one of those truths that you felt all the way into your bones. Thing is, I’d encountered Azrael over Aleppo half a world away as Miguel’s soul slipped towards those dark star-studded wings covering the sky. Could angels be in more than one place at the same time? Confusion rattled around in a skull that felt like it was stuffed full with cotton.

A woman knelt in front of us in her own rubber outfit and helmet. Putting down a hardened case with a red-cross adorning its side, she pulled out a pen light to shine it first into my eyes, then his. We were both too stunned by things to really react.

“Can you move?” she asked intently as she monitored our reactions. Her voice sounded weirdly distant, muffled by the mask.

“Tracy,” winced Isaiah. “Check Tracy.” He pointed to the curly-haired woman lying next to him in a pool of blood. Oh God. His assistant.

Lifeless eyes stared blankly across the floor. It was obvious that she was gone.

The medic was suddenly leaning over me, blocking sight of Tracy’s body. “Focus on me, miss.” With a gesture a second medic knelt behind her. “Are you hurt?” she asked, trying to keep my attention.

“I don’t think so,” I said. My own voice sounded distant too. Huh.

From across the rest of the house could be heard Evans and his team shouting “Clear!” as they went room by room.

There were a lot of rooms.

Hovering protectively over us was another agent in full tactical mode and bio-hazard gear, weapon held loose but ready. The medic pointed at him. “Get her to the bus. I need to examine Mr. Cohen before we move him.”

A gloved hand reached under an arm pit. My quick worried glance to Isaiah was met with a nod. I mouthed, “You sure?” and my friend wordlessly nodded again.

I let the guy lift me to my feet and lead me out of the house. He kept me stable as I stumbled after seeing the other two bodies on the floor on our way out. Their outfits matched the ones from my vision but wherever flesh should have been exposed now was just a pile of ash resting upon gleaming white bones.

They were so very very white.

Someone put a blanket around my shoulders and wings and I was steered out the double doors into the night. Fresh air, yeah that would be good.

Outside though was also a zoo.

Helicopters hovered loudly overhead, a searchlight swung its beam onto me as soon as I cleared the porch. Beyond the edges of the property were a ton of squad cars, blue and red lights swirling madly. In the driveway were two armored vans. Behind those was a blacked-out bus with the DPA logo prominently painted across its panels. Fanned out across the partially blackened lawn and between the withered trees similarly suited figures were holding odd-looking scanners and taking samples. A circle was clearly delineated around the house: beyond was all green from what must have been an expensive California water bill, inside was only death. A breeze picked up to rustle through those trees that lay within, carrying away the dark ashen remains of leaves now turned to dust.

Aghast at it all I paused to stare. There was a firm tug on my arm.

“Miss, you need to come with me. Now.” The gruffness of the guy’s voice covered his obvious own fear at what had happened here. But he really was trying to remain professional.

I let him guide me to the bus. He didn’t need me giving him shit too.

A ramp led up to an entrance in the back. I only caught a glimpse of a crazy collection of science equipment before a larger suited figure inside gestured for me to enter what looked like a small shower bedecked with an array of LEDs embedded in the wall’s tiles. “Enter, yes?”

I knew that voice. “Gregor?”

The huge visor needed to encompass his head and scraggly beard nodded vigorously. “Yes! But please. Scan and cleanse first, chat after!”

Gregor Kirov, part-time gadgeteer and part-time devisor, had been there when I’d first been brought to the DPA to be tested for powers. He was one of two other brothers to my instructor Rabbi Kirov at school. Seeing him here was an immediate relief so I stepped into the booth, though I still had a concern about it. Somehow I got the wings inside too.

“Nothing weird, okay?” I said cautiously. “Last MRI scan I had really messed me up.” Yeah, messed up as in scrambled my perceptions until Raphael had helped me regain coherency.

I’d had enough of that for one day, pretty please.

“Is passive,” he said as the thicker-than-normal-glass swung shut. “Biological and meta-energy external only. Gregor promise.”

I braced anyway as those various lights flickered on and off with no obvious pattern. But Gregor was as good as his word. Other than a slight tingle which may have just been my own paranoia, I hadn’t felt a thing.

“Is good,” he said as I stepped out of the chamber. “No time distortion effect or bio-corruptions.”

“Time distortion? What?” Quickly scanning about all the tubes, oscilloscopes, and microscopes I found what I’d been looking for. The clock display on what obviously should have been a microwave but wasn’t showed it being after twenty-two hundred. Crap. That was past ten pm. “Uh, is the date the same or did I lose even more days?”

Gregor tilted his head. “Is same. The captain reported your entering of distortion perimeter at twenty-ten.”

He must have meant the death-spell. Come to think of it, flying into there had felt like swimming through molasses which kept trying to solidify into concrete. But it certainly hadn’t seemed like two hours worth of sludging past to get inside and find Isaiah.

The bear of a scientist rummaged through his equipment, producing a spiky ball thing on top of long metal stick. He flicked a switch on the stick and electricity arced between the spikes at the end. He held it towards me.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Is only sting a little! Could show relative differentials!”

I was saved by the chiming of his wireless touchscreen popping out of a fractal screensaver to reveal Director Goodman’s face.

“Professor Kirov!” barked Goodman. The Director, irritation creasing his forehead, must have been sitting in a hotel room. A perfectly made king-size bed hung in view past a shoulder.

“Director! Yes!” Kirov straightened only to hit his helmet on the lower ceiling of the bus. “Ow!”

“If that is Ms. Emrys lurking behind you, put her on. There is someone insisting they speak with her immediately.” The annoyance apparent on his face didn’t match his tone which remained measured and calm.

I squeezed past Gregor, making his bio suit squawk in protest. “I’m here, Director.”

“Conferencing her in now. She will explain.” He pursed his lips and reached below the camera’s view.

The image shifted left. In addition to the grumpy visage of the DPA Director there was now an older looking woman sitting on her own side of the screen. Sharp eyes peered from behind thin silver glasses, white hair assembled within a tight bun above a narrow and equally sharp face.

“Ms. Emrys?” she inquired in a crisp no-nonsense tone.

“Yes ma’am?” I replied as politely as I could muster, not having the faintest clue who she was. For all I knew she was in some governmental position even higher than Goodman. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d been interrogated by a member of the higher brass in Washington.

“My name is Rachel Feingold. I am a senior partner at Blackstone, Rosenstein, and Fitch. It is my understanding that Isaiah Cohen is currently retained as your attorney of record, correct?”

“Uh, yes?” I’d once thrown a twenty spot at Isaiah before telling him who I was so he’d not have to reveal the conversation to anyone. Attorney-client privilege and all that. I didn’t realize he’d reported it to his firm.

“Given his own involvement in tonight’s incident, will you accept me as replacement representation? For the same retainer fee.” If she knew I’d only paid him twenty bucks her expression sure didn’t show it.

“I suppose so?”

“A clear yes or no is required, Ms. Emrys.”

Shit. “That would be a yes, Mrs. Feingold.” I really hoped she was married and I hadn’t just insulted her by calling her ‘Mrs’. Her hands were below the image so I couldn’t check for a ring.

“Very well. Then acting as your attorney I advise the following.” She peered over those glasses at me. “Listen carefully.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Say nothing more to the DPA or anyone else.” Those eyes stared daggers out of the small touchscreen pad.

“Uh, nothing?” I glanced over at Gregor, whose bushy eyebrows were narrowing behind the plastic faceplate. “Shouldn’t I cooperate?” Goodman didn’t appear too happy in his little window either.

“After consultation with you in a secure setting where we can guarantee privacy we shall issue a statement to the DPA and any other agency with an interest in this matter.”

“Madame Feingold,” interjected Goodman. “This incident is a possible terrorist attack with a meta-level weapon. Her cooperation is required as a matter of national security.”

The bus opened again. Isaiah was being assisted up the steps and into the scanner. Gregor, clearly wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, grunted and moved to the back to perform the scan anyway.

“Are either her or Mr. Cohen to be charged with terrorism, Director? It would appear Ms. Emrys may have thwarted the danger having arrived after its initiation while Mr. Cohen was clearly the target.” She smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile either, but one of an old wolf just waiting to show a younger pup who was top dog.

“Not at this time,” scowled the Director. “But they are persons of interest in the deaths of several individuals.”

“Have these individuals been identified?” she responded.

The Director’s eyes narrowed. “That information is being held for the time being. If you’d allow your clients to assist-”

Feingold gave a short barking laugh. “Nice attempt, Director. Perhaps we shall parley further in the morning.”

“You can count on it.”

I spoke up. “In the morning? Uh, shouldn’t I get back to Whateley? And as I kinda popped out here without my wallet or phone…” I looked down at bare toes peeking out from under the lavender dress.

Goodman spoke. “You should spend the night at the DPA, Ms. Emrys, for your own protection. I’m sure we can also find yet another set of sweatpants and shirt for you.”

“Nonsense,” Feingold snorted. “Worry not about that Ms. Emrys. Our security service is waiting outside the police line for Mr. Cohen. They will be instructed to assist you as well.”

Gregor lumbered back over to us. Behind him the female medic from the house was wrapping Isaiah’s bruised and battered ribcage. “Hate interrupt,” said Gregor to the faces on the screen, “subject Cohen has no biological contamination. Residual meta readings are interesting yet non-conclusive.”

‘Subject Cohen’? I glared at Gregor for that, not that he noticed.

“Is he cleared?” asked Feingold pointedly.

“Medically yes,” Gregor said with fair amount of disappointment.

“Then we request the DPA to allow our security vehicle within the perimeter for pick up of our clients.”

“Fine,” sighed Goodman, his cheeks slumping tiredly. “But I expect both of them at our facility in the morning. They are not to leave the city.”

“We shall endeavor to be accommodating, Director,” Feingold stated before refocusing on me. “Ms. Emrys.”

“Ma’am?”

“Be sure to join Mr. Cohen in our vehicle. We have more to discuss.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good.” Her video window disappeared, allowing Goodman’s to return to the full screen.

“Jordan,” he said carefully. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell us anything?”

Gregor looked a bit shocked at the question, but kept quiet. I had a feeling the Director really wasn’t supposed to ask anything more without my lawyer being present.

But dammit, they’d been helpful before. I had to give him something, that radius of death must be scaring the crap out of all of them.

Heck, it scared me too and I flew through it.

“I don’t know who the attackers were,” I said slowly. “I think they seriously screwed up.” That much was true. Attacking Isaiah (i.e. the ANGEL OF DEATH!) like that had definitely turned out to be one of the stupidest things they could have done. “Maybe they were more of Azazel’s minions trying to kill those I care about?” It was a possibility, yet after saying it aloud it didn’t feel right.

In the vision I’d had they were praying to God and feeling determined in their overweening righteousness. That wasn’t Azazel’s style.

Goodman rubbed his chin. “What data we got off their remains so far has not indicated any of the usual taint we’ve found on the others.” And by the others he meant all of those who’d been mind-controlled by the Fallen Grigori and who’d tried so hard to kill Danielle. “This death spell, how did Isaiah survive it? Could there be others who can use-”

Isaiah, who had hobbled over to us, interrupted him. Loudly. “That’s enough!” He winced from the forcible shout, but threw me a harsh look anyway before addressing Goodman. “No more questions, Director. We need to consult with our attorney. Are we free to go?”

“Of course,” Goodman said with a hint of frustration. “We look forward to speaking more in the morning. Goodman out.” He killed the video link.

I’ll admit, I felt bad. The guy was just trying to do his job.

Isaiah caught my conflicted expression. “Just zip it, Jordan,” he said firmly. “You don’t know everything that’s gone on since you disappeared.”

Oh. That didn’t sound good.

With that he made Gregor move out of the way so we could exit the bus. A black SUV was pulling up outside, driven by a guy also clearly wearing tactical gear. His passenger (who was also armed to the teeth) hopped out to open the rear door for us.

I climbed in after a moment’s hesitation to will the wings to fade out so I could fit then slid over to make room for Isaiah. I actually felt more naked without the wings, if that makes any sense. The rear compartment had that privacy partition between the back and the front seats. There was also another video screen embedded in the panel where Mrs. Feingold was clearly waiting for us both.

The door slammed shut behind Isaiah and I tasted as well as felt a strange electricity in the air.

“Alright Mr. Cohen,” said Feingold with waning patience. “Security field is up. What the hell happened?”

He leaned back in his seat and exhaled tiredly. “You read the file? The one I left in case something happened to me?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Quite a tale in there.”

“It gets stranger. You may not believe it all.” Using a pajama sleeve he cleaned his glasses after examining them for damage. An arched eyebrow showed surprise that they were still mostly intact.

Feingold’s expression narrowed. “After seeing the video of your friend there in Syria and the reactions from the DPA towards her just now, let’s just say I’m willing to suspend disbelief. Give it to me straight.”

To my great surprise he did.

With legs probably twitching from wanting to pace, he laid it out. “As the notes indicate, Jordan is not the only angel incarnate. Someone sent a squad to kill me because as it turns out I too harbor an angelic soul. Their mistake was assuming I was a Grigori.”

She peered through the small screen with an intense focus. “What’s your evidence? Of both claims, yours and your evaluation of theirs.” Her lack of reaction otherwise was, well, kinda creepy.

He enumerated his list, slipping into lawyer analytical mode even after what had just happened. “One, the past two weeks I’ve had dreams indicating an interest towards me by a powerful spiritual entity. It has been forcing a revisit of the crux events of my own history, like a deposition for a soul. Two, when Jordan was attempting to contact Sandalphon via another incarnate student at Whateley, I touched her without harm despite the massive energetic overload of the situation. Such contact only left a mark upon the skin.” He held up his left hand, showing the dark shade covering the palm and underside of the fingers. “Three, the leader of the attackers declared his intentions: specifically to banish a Grigori from Earth to Hell. Four, their spell to do so failed. I believe it lacked the required power to dislodge my spirit. Five, I felt Tracy die. Correction: I tangibly felt her soul leave her body.” Fingers curled into a fist.

We remained silent as he paused before continuing. His tone was forcibly calm, but strained cords in his neck showed his own feelings were otherwise. “Six, I commanded them to die. And they did. This power once unleashed proved difficult to stop and spilled outward. I was fighting to rein it in when Jordan arrived. Her touch triggered the reliving of what I believe to be a spiritual memory. And if I’m not mistaken she experienced it as well.” He looked to me, both hoping for and dreading what I might say, uncertainty screaming in those eyes behind the emotional control of his courtroom experience.

Looking down I chewed on a lip. I wanted to spare him this madness and let him keep his normal life, let him hold on to everything he’d worked so hard to gain.

But I couldn’t lie to my friend.

“You’re Azrael,” I said quietly. “The angel who once found a child lost in the snow as she mourned with self-loathing the abandonment by her heavenly father. You stayed with her, taught her, and held her hand as she died.”

He closed his eyes, cheeks tight and jaw set.

Feingold though was all business and ignored our raw emotions. “Do you have any ideas as to who could have sent the assassins?”

I waited for Isaiah to answer and as he didn’t, I did. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they weren’t from Azazel: his minions wouldn’t have believed they were doing God’s work.”

“Mr. Cohen’s statement indicated they were all dead before you arrived. How would you know what they believed?”

“I came because I saw them in a vision while drifting between worlds.”

Feingold clearly wrestled with that. After all, visions were not admissible evidence in any court of law. I gave her a look daring her to argue the point.

She smartly demurred and moved on, returning her focus to Isaiah. “This threat then comes from unknown quarters. We lack fundamental information, namely who sent them and also how they found out enough to go after you. “

I grimaced as my mind raced with obvious connections. “Wait, I may have an idea about that.” That got their attention. “I kinda met a whole bunch of Grigori in a dream last, err, the night before I popped out of Whateley.”

“And?” Feingold prompted.

“Ever read the Book of Revelations?” I asked her. Isaiah knew of it because of the games and also because he was a nerd.

She nodded. “I am familiar with it, yes.”

I pointed at Isaiah. “He’s Death.” I immediately followed that little bombshell with, “I’m apparently the one called Conquest. I broke the first Seal when my wings popped free. And Soren supposedly summoned Camael to deal with Azazel. Camael is War.”

They both sat back in astonishment. Her mouth opened to speak, only to shut again. Two lawyers without words violated the natural order of things. These were definitely not ordinary times.

“That’s…a lot of disbelief to suspend,” she said finally.

“But it makes sense,” Isaiah said. “And explains another detail.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow.

He nodded. “The day after Jordan disappeared, Mrs. Carson from Whateley called to inform me of it. She also reported that she herself had been summoned to Washington for an emergency summit with the National Security Council. Through her own sources she learned that an emissary from the Vatican had arrived in Washington and requested the meeting. Director Smith, after reading their provided briefing, had agreed.”

Oh hell. Smith was the Director of National Intelligence and in charge of all the U.S. intelligence services. I’d met him once and while he’d been very kind he wasn’t someone I wanted to be on the wrong side against. I put two and two together. “So that’s why Goodman was conferencing us from a hotel. He’s also in Washington.”

My friend did his own arithmetic and added, “The motive for an attack on me is clear. Even if those sent were unaware of it.”

“Say more.” Feingold clasped forefingers in front of her nose.

“It’s simple,” Isaiah said. “Remove Death from the world and you might prevent the Fourth Seal from being broken. And therefore stop the Apocalypse.”

The Senior Partner at his firm stared blankly at him. I think she had reached her limit of preposterous thinking.

Isaiah must have thought so too because he added, “It doesn’t matter if you or I believe any of it. What matters is whether others do.”

She blinked before nodding slowly. “True. Which leaves our suspect list to include these Grigori or even the Vatican itself. Do you believe the DPA can guarantee your safety?”

Isaiah scoffed. “Hardly. For all we know the source which pointed them at me came from their ranks.”

“I concur,” she said. “You’ll be taken to one of our safe retreats. The DPA can interview you via secure video and if they don’t like it we’ll fight their subpoenas in court.”

“We still need more information,” he protested. “I can’t get that if I’m holed up somewhere.”

“Your safety at the moment is paramount,” she countered. “In any case, where would you even begin to learn more?”

“Where else?” he asked. “Jordan should talk to Kurohoshi.”

“Yeah!” I blurted out. “Kami might know a lot more!” Kami Kurohoshi, former Green Beret and underworld information broker, had helped out with the whole Syria debacle to stop Azazel from getting Raziel’s Book of Secrets. The book that Soren had ended up with in exchange for helping me to save Kokabiel.

Kami was also an incarnate dragon and had a very long memory.

“Kami?” Isaiah looked at me with amusement for using the guy’s first name.

I flushed. “Hey, he was nice. And lent me a combat team!”

My friend gave a weary smile. “One of the deadliest agents working with the Yakuza and other such criminals and you call him ‘nice’.”

“Well he was!” I crossed my arms. “You want me to call his daughter or not? She’s still Danielle’s roommate at Whateley, you know. Just give me a phone.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to. He’s playing a set tonight in Hollywood at one of the nightclubs he owns.”

“Playing a set?” I asked while puzzled. “He’s a musician?”

“Electric guitar. Apparently quite good. A colleague of mine lamented being out of town today as he’s quite the fan.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t known that about him. He’d seemed so, well, military and all Japanese Mafia when I’d met him. Formal, strict, and a total bad-ass. At least until talking to his daughter at which point he had transformed into a doting father trying his best to not spoil his princess. And totally failing.

“Go to his club and I’m sure he’d be willing to meet with you. This attack was aimed at me and not you; I’ll stay low while you go dig for information.”

Sounded reasonable. “Which club?”

“It’s called Fire and Fury.”

Well of course it was.

~o~O~o~

Getting to the nightclub required solving some logistical issues first. Transportation was dealt with easily enough as resting in Isaiah’s garage was my old car, the Mustang GT500. The other problem though was a bit more tricky.

I was still wearing only the sheer lavender dress with toes wiggling free in the breeze.

His house, being a massive crime scene, was off limits but the multi-car garage had been just outside the perimeter of death and therefore untouched so we were able to get in there. Feingold had made Isaiah promise to get to their safe house as quickly as possible, leaving me wondering what kind of law they practiced that their firm would have such a thing available.

A question for some other time, perhaps.

“Right here.” My friend gestured to a set of large metal storage chests lining part of the wall in the massive garage.

“Uh, my car is over there.” I pointed to the tan cover hugging the familiar outlines of The Beast. Danielle had named the car after her first ride and I shall deny any and all accusations of having floored it while on the freeway that day. Didn’t happen and her gleeful memory of such an event is clearly a childish delusion.

Isaiah stood over one of the trunks. “I’m not talking about the car.” With that he popped open the clasp and lifted the lid. Inside were stacks of women’s clothing all tightly wrapped in dry-cleaning plastic. He opened several of the other containers to reveal the same sort of thing. Shoes, underwear, bras, skirts, blouses - an entire wardrobe had been packed away. Even had a selection of makeup kits.

I stood and gaped. “Dude. Why the hell do you have all this? You have some nighttime activities you’ve never told me about?” Holy crap there was a lot. All good quality from what I could see.

He threw me a disgusted look. “They aren’t mine. These were Sonya’s. She never made it anywhere for it all to be delivered. I kept meaning to donate it all to charity, but never got around to it.”

Sonya. His ex-wife. The one who’d died. “Oh. Sorry.”

“She was about your height and build. Some of this should fit you. If she’d only tried she could have been a supermodel.” His shoulders slumped while he stared at it all. Before I could try to offer sympathy he straightened with a tired smile. “Never dreamed I’d be offering them to you though.”

“The whole situation is rather messed up, isn’t it. You going to be okay?”

He shrugged. “The safe-house will be secure. Our contract for security required the arrangements to be handled through a double-blind setup. Even the Senior Partners won’t know where I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Hard eyes met mine through scratched glasses. In the harsh fluorescent light a single hairline crack could be seen spreading across a lens. “I’ll be fine once those responsible are destroyed. Tracy deserves no less.”

That wasn’t what I had meant either. “And what about being an angel?”

“You’ve dealt with it. So will I. Pick something and get changed. I need to make some calls before I’ll have to shut off this phone.” He turned and walked away.

“Wait! If you ditch that one, how will I get in touch with you?”

He paused. “You’ll have Feingold’s number. She’ll pass on any messages during the secured scheduled contacts. Now quit stalling and get dressed.” He continued over to the other side of the garage.

As much as I really wanted to do otherwise I let him go. Knowing him he’d withdraw and process it all in his own way. He’d need to go do the totally male thing like that and refuse to talk about everything until he’d already worked it through. Me effusively offering assistance would just annoy and make things even more uncomfortable for everyone. Speaking of awkward things, right now I needed to pick out panties and a bra from a dead woman’s clothes. Yeah, that wasn’t creepy or anything.

It took longer than I’d expected but it wasn’t my fault. While to my surprise Sonya and I really did have similar measurements, let’s just say her taste leaned heavily towards the highly revealing. In other words it was a challenge to not be flashing boobs and way too much skin to the world. The best I could come up with was a white off-the-shoulder shirt with laces along the sleeves and a strapless bra underneath, a black leather mini-skirt with simple belt and silver buckle, and matching black felt boots that just covered the knees decorated with a short fringe of tassels along the tops. Using a pocket mirror that came with one of the make-up kits I also did my best at applying mascara, lipstick, and a little blush. Jenna would have cringed and made me redo it all but I thought it a passable attempt.

Nightclubs were supposed to be dark, right?

Isaiah had stayed on the other side of the garage facing away while I’d changed but turned as he heard me clacking towards him in the boot’s heels. “Damn,” he breathed while shaking his head. “Sonya would have hated that.”

“Why? This not any good?” I looked down suddenly self-conscious. Did I need jewelry? A bracelet or necklace or something? One of the trunks might have some.

He grinned with weary amusement. “It’s fine. You just look better than she ever did.”

Oh. I stood there awkwardly with cheeks in danger of summoning firemen to come bursting in with hoses ready.

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll help you with the car.”

Together we pulled off the cover. Underneath was my old ride in all its Mustang glory and its classic white with dual blue stripes. He’d obviously gotten it washed and waxed before storing, the paint gleamed as if new.

The last time I’d driven it had been the night Danielle was abducted by Soren, the night everything had changed. Anyone seeing me now would never believe I was once a scruffy programmer rapidly approaching (or already arrived at) middle-age. Only a few months had passed yet that was an entire lifetime ago.

Isaiah commented while folding the cover. “Mark was a bit disappointed to not be its caretaker when I became Danielle’s guardian. And I’ll admit I haven’t driven it much but it’s one nice ride.” He paused with a strange look on his face before starting to laugh, a full-throated merriment that just wouldn’t stop. He laughed so hard he ended up wincing and holding his bruised side with a pained grin.

“What the hell is so funny?” I asked, utterly bemused.

He took the glasses off to wipe at his eyes while trying to catch his breath. “Don’t you get it? That’s a Mustang and you’re the First Rider of the Apocalypse. You really do ride a white horse!”

Well shit.

This lead naturally to a few minutes spouting all the obvious jokes such as him needing to get his new Porsche repainted tan, or me needing to find a tiara in the trunks for my ‘crown’, or even me threatening to go find his electronic bathroom scale for him to carry around as his new coat of arms motif.

Eventually though the humor died away as the seriousness of things pressed once more upon our shoulders.

“Hey,” I said more seriously, “I know you’re going to go hide away and everything, but if you need to, call me.”

“Isn’t your phone on the other side of the country?” He smiled but the tired sadness had already crept back into the corners.

“Feh. I’ll either be back there soon or I’ll make someone overnight it to me. Just know you don’t have to deal with all this alone.” Okay, I know earlier I said I wouldn’t push it. So sue me.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he stepped forward and pulled me into a surprisingly tight embrace despite the pain it must’ve caused his ribs. Memories of Aradia and Azrael swirled confusingly alongside those of Justin and Isaiah, and for a moment I lost track of who was who.

My friend - my brother, my family - simply said, “Go. Find the ones behind this.” He paused and in a far harsher tone that echoed throughout the garage and perhaps beyond added:

“Upon them all deliver Justice.”

Amen.

Chapter 10 - Fury

We didn’t say much after that so I was quickly on my way. Fortunately the traffic getting to the club wasn’t too bad and by taking Mulholland Drive the Beast got a decent run - at least in terms of cornering. Not that I could push it too hard considering my license was sitting peacefully in my purse back at Whateley.

Yes I now usually carried a purse. You try juggling wallet, phone, makeup kit with mirror, kleenex, and other such required items when wearing skirts or pants so tight that their pockets were mere teasing reminders that men’s jeans can actually hold stuff. I’d even made it a habit to carry feminine protection products. Not that I needed them but in case a friend ran out of their own during the day.

Hey, it happens.

Of course being currently without any of that I’d had difficulty finding a place to stash the wad of cash Isaiah handed me before I left. Thus my cleavage had been deftly employed to protect the funds. Which would work great right up until the minute I actually needed to use any of it. Meh. If some weirdo caught me plucking the money forth he and his jollies could piss off.

It was just past eleven when I finally pulled up to the valet line at Fire and Fury. A quick glance at the situation made it obvious that the club was a very happening night spot despite the nondescript brown and windowless building. A line of guys pretending to be fashionable were waiting to get in, whereas as I walked up I noticed a pair of girls wearing dresses that left nothing to the imagination bypass the line and go right in.

Guess it was time to abuse such female privileges myself.

Doing my best to ignore the whistles and cat-calls from the jerks stuck in the line I went straight up to the bouncer at the door. At which point what should have been an obvious problem that neither Isaiah nor myself had thought of it made itself abundantly clear.

“ID?” demanded the muscle-bound bouncer wearing a super tight black t-shirt.

Yep. That problem. Even if I’d had my license in hand, it wouldn’t have helped. The laminated plastic claimed I was only sixteen after all. Crap, it had been so long since either of us had been carded we had totally forgotten about it.

I smiled as sweetly as I could and ignored the request. “I need to get a message to your boss. Could you inform Mr. Kurohoshi that Aradia would like to speak with him? He’ll know who I am.”

Mr. Muscles consulted a slick-looking smart pad before shaking his buzz-cut. “Girl you may be the hottest thing I’ve seen all night, but there’s no ‘Aradia’ on the list. Let’s see some ID.”

“Uh, would you believe I mislaid it when teleporting from the East Coast to be here?”

He gave me a look. “Sweetheart even with that makeup you don’t look twenty-one. The boss’s boss is going to be playing the stage. It ain’t worth my ass to take any risks tonight.”

Fuckity fuck. “Look, could you at least get the message to him?”

“That’s a big no-can-do girl.”

“I need to speak with him,” I growled. “It’s important.”

“Why don’t you just go on home to your parents. We can call you a cab if you need a ride.”

One of the idiots in the line yelled out an offer to take me to his home instead. What he suggested we do after was not worth repeating. Fingernails dug into palms. I may or may not have been debating powering up and making a scene, if nothing else to maybe get higher-ups in security’s attention.

Really. It wasn’t just because I wanted to blast something. Or someone.

“Is there a problem, señor?” A man with a Spanish accent had walked up besides me and I hadn’t even noticed.

“Sir, please wait your turn. The line is over there.”

The Spanish guy had a cleanly trimmed goatee and thick wavy hair pulled into a puffy ponytail. He was also wearing a perfectly tailored suit and tie. Clearing his throat, he held out what was obviously a business card. “As you can see, señor, her ID is in perfect order. She also is a member of my party here to see Señor Kurohoshi, under the name Diego.”

I gaped as I recognized him. How could I not? Diego was the guy at the DPA who had been training Danielle in magic before she made it to Whateley. They must have had him tail me though I hadn’t noticed any car following from Isaiah’s. I’m surprised he’d been able to keep up.

A pulse of magic came from Diego’s hand causing the bouncer to blink a few times and he rechecked his list. He looked surprised and straightened up all formal-like, towering over both of us.

“Of course, sir. Please go on in; your table is waiting upstairs. Take these for the VIP access.” Mr. Muscles pressed a pair of blue wristbands into Diego’s other hand.

“Excellent,” said Diego as he looked sideways to me. “Shall we go?” He offered an arm which, not being totally stupid, I took.

Once inside we were led by another bouncer up a flight of stairs. The pulse of loud music vibrated each step as we went. At the top and through a set of double doors opened a wide balcony full of tables and nicer-dressed patrons. Diego and I were given a round table at the railing’s edge with a prime view of the entire place. A folded card marked ‘Reserved’ was deftly removed as we sat down and looked around.

I could see right away where the name of the place came from.

We perched over a dance floor tightly packed solid with twenty to thirty year olds who gleefully bounced to the impressively loud beat. Their bodies writhed in the pulsating light of several clear glass pillars spaced throughout, each with its own fountain of real fire bursting towards the ceiling in time with the music. The flames weren’t all the normal red and orange color either, some were bursting with fiery greens and blues.

The dance platform itself was inlaid with must have been a seriously expensive set of LED screens letting images of similar flames snake under the feet of the dancers until reaching a pillar and ‘manifesting’ upwards in spasms of fire. The surrounding walls also had screens making the whole place look like it was set against a mountain of blackened rock with rivers of burning lava flowing down on all sides.

I’ll admit I was impressed. It looked freaking cool.

Once I had stopped gaping like a total noob, Diego leaned closer so his voice could possibly be heard over the booming rock-opera music. Think Muse crossed with System Of A Down to get an idea of the style. Just don’t ask me who it was; I’d never heard it before.

“Aradia, I imagine we are both surprised at finding ourselves here.” He practically had to shout to be heard even at this distance.

I frowned and shouted back. “Surprised? Didn’t you follow me from the crime scene? I should have figured the DPA would do that, but didn’t think of it.”

That surprised him. “Crime scene? I am intrigued. But no, I did not follow you. In fact I am currently unemployed.”

Huh? I’d heard he had been on leave but that was weeks ago, not that he’d left the agency. “What? How’d that happen?”

He smiled sadly. “It was my own error. And it is not I who has paid the real price, rather it is my daughter who has suffered for my foolishness.” He sighed, eyes going distant for a moment before refocusing on me. “The Fates, it seems, have caused our paths to cross tonight, for which I shall burn offerings in their honor as this has offered me the chance to express my deepest gratitude to you.”

“Okay, you’ve lost me entirely.”

“You saved her. My daughter. Thus do I owe you everything I can offer should you ever have need.”

I still had no idea what he was talking about. “I didn’t even know you had a kid.”

“I do. Her mother has forced her to put aside my last name due to a painful divorce. My daughter is Erica Lain.”

“Holy shit!” I blurted aloud before I could catch myself. “You’re Fields’ dad?”

“That is indeed the code name she chose to use at Whateley Academy.”

As if the day’s events hadn’t already blown my mind. Erica, otherwise known as Fields, had been the girl whose actions had corrupted another magic student at Whateley with a demonic pendant. That student, my friend Tamara, had tried to kill me. With the amazing help of Zap we had driven the demon back to Hell and slammed the door on its ass. Erica had been immediately suspended from the school for that stunt.

Except that wasn’t the end of it for her. Because on her way back to her mother she’d managed to attract the attention of my real enemy, Azazel. And to avoid being used and abused by him she’d signed herself away to serve a queen of the Fae instead who just so happened to be watching. Which in turn had caused Erica’s spirit to be stuck in a fae realm while her body remained behind in a deep coma. Yeah, it had all been a confused mess. Suffice it to say that in saving Danielle from the same queen I’d forced the issue and gotten Erica freed too. While only a month had passed for those of us on Earth, for Erica it had already been years of servitude and abuse.

I couldn’t have left her like that.

“Wait a minute,” I said as the pieces came together. “Erica said she’d swiped that cursed necklace from her father’s magic safe. That nasty thing was yours?” I glared at him angrily. That horrible piece of work had caused a lot of trouble.

He had the grace to look rather chagrined. “Yes. And I lost my position at the DPA because of it. Perhaps its demonic influence affected me, or perhaps I was greedy for power. I cannot excuse my action in holding it for myself and not turning it over for proper storage by the agency. Erica’s trauma is entirely my fault.”

I’d have argued that Erica had a knack for causing her own trouble, considering that she’d magic-hacked the safe and stolen the damned thing on her own. Then she’d given it to Tamara to gain access to a scrying sphere with which she could remotely hack the most secure computers in the country. However with how Diego looked so forlorn I was pretty sure he wouldn’t listen to the argument.

I reached out to touch his hand. “But she’s safe now, right? Zap got her spirit back to her body and she woke up.”

He squeezed my fingers gently then let go. “Physically safe, yes. But the damage was already done.”

“Damage?”

“For her she spent many years in the fae realm, constantly exposed to the raw magic of the fae. She learned much magic from it—in fact she likely has more skill and power than I at this point—but that all came with a price.”

I frowned. “I made Queen Fionnabhair forswear any retaliations. Against me, Danielle, and Erica and all our families and loved ones.”

He shook his head, the short bushy ponytail bouncing back and forth as he did so. “Her spirit absorbed too much of their essence and now craves it every moment of every day. She is in effect without a source for an addiction that goes beyond the physical. Not without returning to the slavery you freed her from.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“This is what brings me tonight to visit with Mr. Kurohoshi. It is my hope that he might either have knowledge of a cure or at the least of some method to mitigate the effect.”

This was just awful. I kept silent while my mind raced. I had a dream-realm full of fae, could that help her somehow? Problem was my realm wasn’t forged of fae energies. Gabriel had made it and so the resonance was entirely different. And by accident I’d tied those fae to me, something whose effects Tsáyidiel, the angel currently guarding the realm, was still trying to figure out. But surely something could be done?

Diego interrupted my thoughts. “Now is your turn. What brings Aradia to Mr. Kurohoshi’s doorstep? Especially alone and without identification. Which as I recall would have you listed as far too young to gain entry in any case.”

“It’s complicated,” I replied, catching myself before chewing on a lip.

“I am entirely unsurprised. Tell only what you can, I shall endeavor to get you an audience with our host regardless.”

Diego didn’t know I’d already met Kami nor did he know about the whole mess in Syria. I was pondering how best to summarize all of that when a Japanese man with a nasty scar down one cheek approached our table with apparent urgency before bowing low.

“It is my honor to escort you both to an audience with Kurohoshi Kami, proprietor of this establishment.”

We both stood and returned the bow. It seemed the polite thing to do.

“And,” said Diego, “it is our honor to accompany you.”

“What he said,” I added, pointing at Diego.

The guy gave me a look-over and not because of me being a pretty redhead. If anything he was trying to decide if I’d just given an insult.

I smiled as genuinely as I could. Really.

With a grunt the guy gestured and we followed. This time we were led behind the balcony to a different set of double metal doors, each with handles forged into the shape of dragons. Their breathed fire completed the grips which looked really cool. Through these could be seen a very long hallway lined with rice-paper screens and perfectly spaced braziers burning with incense. I began to wonder just how large this nightclub really was, because from what I remembered of the outside and the path we took to the balcony something was clearly off dimensionally.

As we crossed those doors the answer became clear. Goosebumps swept my skin and I realized we had just ported somewhere else. The slight break in the rhythm of Diego’s walk indicated he’d sensed the same and it had made him nervous.

Not me though. I thought it just neat and likely really convenient for Kami. Like I’d said earlier, he’d been really nice to me. Well that and I might be getting overconfident in my ability to blast things if needed. Maybe just a little.

We were led to the end of that hall and through another set of doors, dark oaken ones with the same dragons carved this time from wood instead of metal. Inside had all the trappings of a temple complete with one Kami Kurohoshi dressed in a flowery kimono as he sat seiza upon a silk cushion. Seiza is the kneeling posture of martial arts that Sensei Ito’s students were all too painfully familiar with. Ancient weapons were arrayed on the walls and the air was smoky with even more incense.

Kami gestured to the two cushions resting on the floor before him. Diego, after giving an even deeper bow, easily folded his legs into the same configuration.

As for me I stared at the cushion and then at the boots I was wearing. With a sigh I plonked my ass on the wooden floor to wrestle my toes and knees free. Once accomplished I sat the same way on the appropriate pillow. Diego looked amused, Kurohoshi didn’t.

In fact, once I’d gotten a good look at his face I could tell he was absolutely furious and holding it together with sharp focus. Uh oh.

I was about to try and apologize for any lack of propriety on my part (though hey, there was no way those boots were going to let me sit that way), when he grunted and spoke.

“Ordinarily I would declare both of your presences here as coincidence. But it is clear that great patterns are in motion and have placed us upon its field of battle.” He studied us with an intense burning behind dark eyes. “And by your more relaxed states it is obvious neither of you are aware of what is occurring even now as we speak.” Tendons across his forearms tightened.

Diego and I exchanged a glance and he ventured the question. “What do you mean?”

The answer came as a deep-throated growl:

“Whateley Academy is under attack.”

 

Call Of The Light (Part 3 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 11 - Choices

“Dammit August! Tell me where she is!”

Snow and wind assaulted the far corner of the cafeteria where August liked to eat quietly away from everyone else. Today that peaceful solitude had been bulldozed by a rather agitated young fae.

The plate of creamy chicken alfredo sadly offered no defense.

“I told you, I don’t know!”

“Did you even bother to look in the Book? She’s been gone for over a day!” Danielle leaned over the table, her usual perfect braids fraying and threatening to fall into the chocolate ice cream August had been saving for dessert.

August tried to scoot their chair further away from the tempest only to bump into the wall behind. “Even if I did I couldn’t tell you! Sandalphon said-”

“I don’t care what he said! We have to find her! She could need help!”

A sudden gust took August’s napkin with it. Watching it go, they wished they too could fly off but being stuck as an incarnate meant not having wings. Which was entirely part of the problem that Danielle wasn’t understanding. “She’s probably not on Earth, okay? And if she isn’t I wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway!”

“If she’s not on Earth then where could she be?”

“Some other realm or in between, maybe.”

“Then we really can’t do anything?”

August sucked on the empty fork. How much could they say? It’s not like they’d really seen a clear picture of what was to come, but enough details had filtered through to offer hints.

Sniffling, Danielle slumped into the opposite chair and grabbed another napkin with which to blow her nose. The swirling storm surrounding her shifted to a softer cold rain. “I hate it. I hate being useless! We should all be helping her!” The napkin wiped away frost gathering at the corners of her eyes. “But Zap refuses to come out of his room or even answer his phone. Brendan keeps saying we’re all too weak to offer her any real assistance anyway and just keeps kicking himself for suggesting she use the sims in the first place. And Jenna thinks God needed Jordan somewhere else yet she’s still sick with worry. She didn’t even eat today!”

“Jenna didn’t eat? Seriously?”

“No! She went to class but as soon as it was out she rushed back to Jordan’s room, says she’s camping out there until Jordan gets back.”

August took a bite of the alfredo which had gone cold and crunchy. While not entirely unpleasant this was definitely not how the dish was meant to be served. “Uhm, you do realize you’re totally soaking my dinner, right?”

Danielle blinked, taking in the rain and the frosty layer covering the table. “See? I can’t even control that! Useless!” Breathing in and out slow, she tried to focus. The falling moisture dissipated though air currents still brushed past with an occasional dance. Sighing, Danielle slumped further in the chair. “Sorry.”

Giving up on the alfredo, August pulled the bowl of ice cream closer. At least this was supposed to be cold! Also, chocolate!

“Isn’t there anything you can tell us? Please?” Danielle was chewing at a lip much like August had seen Jordan do. Which wasn’t surprising considering the real relationship between the two—yet another thing August had seen but wasn’t supposed to tell anybody about. Sandalphon had been upset enough over what August had done at the Grigori gathering as it was. The archangel had huffed with disappointment and shook his head even!

Yet there had to be something they could say that could help. Maybe something the others could have figured out on their own? Yeah! That could work!

“What about Ester?” August asked cagily around a spoonful of chocolate. “They doing okay?”

“Ester?” Danielle frowned. “She was with Evie earlier. But she’s so reserved who knows how she actually feels.”

“She was acting normal?” Oops. Cream dribbling down their chin required another napkin.

“I guess so? For her, anyway.”

“Then Jordan must be fine.” August smiled broadly, relishing another tasty scoop. Sooo goood!

“I don’t follow.”

Waving the empty spoon in the air, August swallowed before trying to explain. “Ester is Kokabiel, right? And Kokabiel was saved by Amariel, which is who Jordan truly is. Amariel’s name is written on Kokabiel’s spirit. So if something really bad had happened to Jordan, then Evie would feel it. And not in a good way.”

“Really?”

August winced. “Trust me. Losing the name that connects you to the Source hurts.”

“Oh.” Danielle brightened at the thought. “So Jordan is okay?”

“Her spirit is at least.”

“Really?! I gotta tell the others!” Danielle hopped up and took off towards the cafeteria exit. “Thanks August!”

There was no point in trying to reply as the fae girl was already out the doors. August did manage to keep the napkins on the table in the wake of the speedy exit which was cool.

Their reflexes were definitely improving!

Savoring another chunk of chocolate, August thought about what they’d just said. Jordan’s—or more precisely Amariel’s—saving of Kokabiel and Tsáyidiel were events without any precedence. The restoration of one’s name opened up possibilities that no angel had ever dreamed possible. Would Heaven still slam shut its doors to those who had been redeemed by Amariel’s light?

Could they all finally go home?

Lost in such thoughts along with the creamy flavor, they didn’t notice yet another student approach.

“Hey!” A boy with unruly red hair and an all-too-grumpy face was standing there staring mostly at the floor.

“Dude! You are totally interrupting this chocolate experience.” The instrument of creamy taste-bud delivery admonished him for this grievous trespass.

He ignored it. “You’re one of them aren’t you. Like her.”

“Her? I’m not a fae, silly.” August pointed the spoon at the guy. “You’re Magnus, aren’t you? Didn’t you piss her off once? I heard that it didn’t go too well.”

Magnus glanced at the doors to where Danielle had just exited. “Yeah. And I did. But I didn’t mean her.” He glowered, fists clenched at his sides. “I meant Jordan.”

“Pffft. I’m not like Jordan. No one is. I couldn’t even begin to explain how special it is that she even exists.”

“But she’s an angel. And so are you.”

Raised eyebrows appraised the boy. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve got the Sight. I can see your spirit.”

“Oh.”

Magnus’s temples pulsed as he stood there, avoiding eye contact. The guy was seriously clenching his jaw. If he kept that up he’d crack a tooth for sure.

“Is that all you wanted?” August said trying to break the awkward silence. “To confirm that I’ve got feathers sprouting from my spirit?”

He shook his head. “No. Humans were slaves once. Long ago. That’s what my Gran and all the old stories say. And she says the fae want to rule over us again, every last one of them. Gran thinks they can’t help it, that it’s in their nature and it was the angels who saved us.” Eyes uncertain yet challenging rose to meet theirs. “That true?”

“Uh, it’s a bit more complicated.”

“Tell me.”

August reluctantly put down their bowl. “We angels showed up to help mankind after the world was pretty well fucked over, okay? Magic energy was all used up in the wars between fae, elementals, dragons, and the other empowered beings that called this place home. That left it vulnerable to a whole mess of evils and things shattered before all that was stopped. And yeah, humans were freed from their masters when most of the fae and others took off but the poor things were totally unprepared to live in the emptiness that was left. So we came down to try and help. To teach them a few tricks so they’d make it.”

“Like what?”

“Enough magic to survive along with the skills to master the physical world: blacksmithing, alchemy, the beginnings of real science. But we fucked that up too. As a result the world spirit was in danger of fading out from all the continued abuse. Which would have been bad. Real bad.”

“Gaia, right? That’s what Gran calls her.”

August shrugged. “The name works.”

“But if you’re all still here, you must have fallen. Been kicked out by God.”

“I don’t like thinking about it.” August tapped the spoon against the bowl. Clink, clink.

“I need to know.”

It was those pain-filled eyes that got to them. Flashing with an inner debate, they held back a fire ready to either lash outward or at places deep within.

“Fine,” August said slowly, reaching back to the strained memories of being Tamiel, of losing their heavenly grace and living in fear of their own brothers and sisters. “A few higher angels came down after hearing of the mess we had made. They needed to clean it up quick or else Michael would have roused the entire Host and cleansed the world.”

“What’s wrong with that? Evil should be destroyed.”

“Using the sun to set planets aflame with purifying fire is not exactly fun for the folks still on them.”

Magnus gaped and even his milky white skin managed to pale.

“Yeah. So instead there was a war here on Earth to try to fix things,” August continued. “Many fought against a corruption one of our own had unleashed. And, despite what it would do to her own people, a fae sealed Gaia’s heart-energy away so the world-spirit could heal in the aftermath. By doing that she doomed the remaining fae still here to lose their power and become bound into mortal lives.”

“A fae did that?”

“Just like humans, some fae are nobler than others. She paid a heavy price for preserving this world.”

“Did she die?”

“Yes. She became doomed to incarnate as mortal like the rest of us. With a spirit declared as traitor to her people.”

“A fae saving humans,” Magnus said quietly. “Then Gran was wrong.”

“Why are you asking all this, anyway?”

Ignoring the question he offered one of his own. “Is Jordan fallen? She has to be, right? Otherwise she wouldn’t be here; she’d be up in Heaven with the rest.”

“None of us were fallen when we first arrived, dude. When you look at her with your spirit sight what do you see?”

Broad shoulders hunched in on themselves. “Light. I only see light.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“But she’s friends with the fae.”

“She tries to be friends with everyone. I don’t think she could be herself otherwise. You should give it a try sometime.”

Magnus stared off over the heads of all the other dining kids. “That’s what the voice said. That I should trust in Jordan.”

August tilted their head. “Voice? What voice?”

“Just something in a dream I keep having.” He walked away without even saying thanks or goodbye. Rude!

A dream though, that was indeed curious. Something smelled fishy and it wasn’t the sushi the kid at the next table was eagerly devouring. Noting that the rest of their ice cream had sadly melted, August returned plates and tray to the proper spot in the cafeteria before hurrying back to their room in Hawthorne.

They needed the quiet.

Locking the door, they moved a stack of freshly tailored uniform shirts and slacks from the bed to on top of the dresser. Their growth spurt had taken everyone by surprise and they’d been needing new clothes every week. The gender confusion and ambiguity was also getting old, though the doctor’s exam had showed definite progress in one singular direction. The intrigued physician had predicted another two months of being stuck in between but after that August was going to be all boy.

The him-to-be couldn’t wait. It just felt right.

Of course that wasn’t important right now. Magnus’ dream raised some fascinating questions if not outright suspicions.

Donning sweatpants and a hoody August sat cross-legged on the bed and closed their eyes. In their thoughts they pictured the Book, and at the same time pictured Magnus with his inner-focused glaring and mop of reddish-orange hair. Sandalphon would probably yell at them again for this, but August didn’t care.

They needed to know.

The magical angelic script flowed across the pages, reaching out to envelop and pull the capable reader along the threads of the life they showed in full detail: Magnus’ birth and childhood in a suburb in New York, to the time his powers first manifested when his father had tried to enter the boy’s room to deliver an (admittedly deserved) admonishment for misbehavior only to find the entrance blocked by a shimmering force field, and when as a teen he’d used those barriers to foil an armed robbery and thus reveal to the plain-clothed MCO agent that he had powers. It was all there.

However August was looking for something much more subtle in the lines of the most recent past. Something had prompted Magnus’ questions and August was gaining a sense of these things, perhaps from Sandalphon’s spirit training.

They’d guessed right because they found it: gentle nudges in the thread-lines ever so subtly shifting the path towards a new choice, a choice with dramatic potential and effect upon the tapestry and all the rest of the pages in the Book. It was so small, barely noticeable unless you looked hard enough. Yet in following where it led the Book swelled to the size of galaxies as all the countless affected destinies burned their images into August’s mind, fiercely competing for equal attention across endless spans of time and space. Fiery letters spun incoherently through their perceptions with blazing speed, each flashing visions of what may be, threatening to torch August’s consciousness with an infinite flood of what could be forged from such a small change.

Crying out in anguish August tried to slam the Book in their mind shut, desperate to shake free. Blood flowed as a hot river from their nose to pool upon their sweatshirt. Overwhelming visions strangled their mind, lacking cohesion or meaning as a tumultuous and endless shrieking stream of color, taste, and noise.

For the briefest of moments they managed to clearly see the small source touching Magnus’ life before the torrential cascade of consequences pulled them under. Succumbing to blissful oblivion August once again whispered a single name:

“Gabriel.”

~o~O~o~

 

Zap snuffed out the last of the burning incense and stared at the altar he’d created.

Nothing had worked.

He’d done everything he could think of. He’d gathered the ingredients for a proper kyphi incense from the botany club, bribed a gadgeteer to 3D print a model of the Ibis-headed god, researched proper chants and prayers, even kiln-fired some bluish faience with hieroglyphs embossed into the surface. All designed to get the attention of the God of Wisdom and Magic yet the net result from the Master of Mysteries was zip. Nada. Not a peep.

Thoth didn’t want to talk to him.

Opening a window in the solitary room nestled at one end of Poe Cottage, Zap fell back onto the bed. Normally he had the opposite problem of gods and goddesses constantly streaming in and out of his awareness, occasionally the shouting and screaming so persistent that withdrawing into the life of a simple hawk remained an acute temptation.

So why the silence now?

Ever since the conversation with Set the celestial murmuring had been quiet. It was awfully suspicious. Unfortunately the current failures left him with only one backup plan, a plan he’d really hoped to avoid.

If you can’t get a god to come to you, you had to go to the god.

But who would he be if he did that? The last time he’d projected his spirit self was to help Jordan at the behest of Ra and Anubis. His memory of the trip to Arcadia remained fuzzy as if filtered through a shimmering gauze, leaving him questioning whether his sense of self as Zap was actually real or if maybe his true self was the god Heru and Zap was just a convenient covering shell with no solidity. He was a thin mask waiting to be discarded when things of real importance needed to be done.

Not a pleasant thought. In fact it pissed him off. How dare they use and throw him away! He had his own life, his own hopes and desires, and since he was the one stuck to live day by day in this limited physical world all while still worrying about everything, it wasn’t fair to cast him aside. He deserved to know the real secrets and he deserved to make his own damn choices about them.

And if the gods or Heru himself didn’t like it? Fuck ‘em. Fuck them all.

Grabbing hold of that anger, Zap ripped himself free of his physical shell and threw himself into spirit with a burning need to, for once in his life, get his own damn answers.

 

There was a room and he was in it.

A quick check confirmed he was still wearing his jeans and black t-shirt. No weird loincloth, no sandals, and no funky hats. Good. Of course the scale of the room was intimidating. A wooden drafting table towered over him as if he were only a foot tall.

Not to mention the bird-headed guy sitting in front of it sporting a ridiculously long dark beak was freaking taller still. Perched upon that beak were a pair of armless glasses, bent just so to cover the surprising blues of the eyes fixating themselves upon the small intruder.

“Well now, this is not something one encounters very often,” said the giant bird-headed figure. “A little Heru!”

Zap bristled, but the point was hard to argue given the obvious scale disparity. Instead he gave voice to the feeling prickling at the back of his brain. “You’re Thoth. I made it.”

“Of course I am, who else would I be? Thoth, Djehuty, Lord of Khemennu, and so many other titles that one would need an entire wall with which to list them. Hmm. I should add that in!” The god turned back to the drafting table and with a massive black feather sketched in an instant an entire edifice covered in symbols and pictures. “There! Oh I do like that. Nothing wrong with a pinch of self-promotion.” Insomuch as a bird could smile, Thoth managed. “Now, how might I be of assistance?”

“I seek knowledge and wisdom.”

The giant feather tapped against the desk. “You will need to be a bit more specific.”

Specific? Fine then. “Set is up to something. He says the fae queen needs his help and he also spoke of some plan, indicating I’d been in on it and should remember what it was. But I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Piercing eyes regarded him. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!”

“Ah. I suppose not.” The feather pointed towards one of the blank walls surrounding the room. A Zap-sized door appeared, complete with a bronze doorknob. “In there you will find a pool. I’d suggest sticking to the shallow end.”

Turning the knob revealed not so much a room as a cave. Rock walls curved down to meet an underground lake that stretched out into the distance, waters churning with deeper blackness the further Zap looked. Dotting the bottom under crystal clear water near to him were chunks of shaped faience. A single piece carved into the form of a scarab about fifteen feet out emitted a soft pale maroon pulse as if calling to him.

Zap strode towards it, wading through the pool and sinking quickly due to the deceptive slope below. Ignoring Thoth’s warning, he took a deep breath and dove downward, driven by a need he couldn’t put into words.

His hand wrapped around the scarab, plucking it cleanly from the sediment at the bottom. As he pushed towards the surface, the scarab came alive. Bubbles of air escaped Zap’s lips from a cry of pain as the scarab bit into his palm and wriggled its way under the skin. Frantically he clawed at it with his other hand, but it was too late. The scarab had already done its work.

A vortex underneath his feet and in his mind sucked him down.

 

“King Netjeriykhet, the prisoners await your judgment.” The captain of the King’s Guard raised a hand in salute.

Sitting upon a gold-clad ebony throne, King Netjeriykhet acknowledged the captain. “Bring them in.”

The order was shouted, echoing off the high and picture-ladened walls of the throne room. Spear-carrying troops marched past the ornate doors, escorting men clad only in white loincloths and chains. The prisoners’ heads were shaved and faces scrubbed clean of all adornment. With another command they dropped to their knees before the great king though one of their number hesitated, a boy who could not have seen but seven returns of Akhet, the Season of Flooding. The rest trembled in fear, knowing scarily well that these next few minutes would likely be their last.

The king’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “You were to bring me the rebellious priests. Why then is there such a youth among them?”

Before the captain could answer one of the men in chains collapsed to the floor, limbs thrashing uncontrollably. The surrounding warriors spun in an instant, leveraging spearheads towards this outrageous outburst.

“Hold!” commanded their king, halting the spears’ deadly thrusts.

The thrashing stilled as the thin man on the floor gave a short bark-like laugh. “That always tickles.” Ignoring the spears he rose, turning attention to the king. Where his expression had been of fear before, now it was challenging and defiant. Cheekbones and eyebrows stretched into foreign features utterly unlike what had been there during the march into the throne room.

The king raised a brow. He’d heard of this sort of thing. “Who are you? Your name, I demand it!”

With a chuckle the man replied. “You know damned well who I am. Just as I know who you are oh Heru, Lord of the Black Land.”

“Say your name and be revealed!”

“Really? You don’t recognize me? I’m hurt.” The man shook his head in mock disappointment then grinned. “I am Set, Lord of the Red Desert.”

The king gave no sign of the apprehension rising through his heart. “That would explain much. This troublesome rebellion amongst the governors is your doing then.”

“You ignoring their needs opened the door. I stepped through it.”

Many a spear twitched, wanting to strike down this insult to the king.

“I command you all to hold! And hold you shall!” shouted Netjeriykhet at his men. The spears pulled back, though not as far as before.

Rubbing his face the king regarded the god. “Your troops are defeated, all that’s left is mopping up at the outskirts. You have lost.”

“I don’t dispute it. Why do you think we’re talking?”

“You are known for your tricks. This is another one.”

The god snorted. “No tricks. You won. And if you weren’t stuck in these silly incarnations life after life, you’d already know what I need to tell you.”

Netjeriykhet, son of King Khasekhemwy who had defeated much greater rebellions in the North, had his whole life been told by the priests that he was the current incarnate of the god Heru. When his brother had died and left Netjeriykhet the throne many of the people believed his brother’s death had been meant to be so that Heru could again rule over them.

Netjeriykhet would have much preferred his brother still be alive, and as for the words of the priests he paid them respect but made no such claims himself in case they were wrong. Insulting the gods was never a wise move for any man, let alone a king.

Just like it wouldn’t be wise now.

“Forgive my ignorance, Lord Set. Please explain.”

“It’s simple. Too many seasons have turned since the fae priestess slammed shut the world’s mana and we gods left this world.”

“And you wish to return?” Legends had been told, though details were minimal, of a mighty war against giants who had threatened the gods themselves. As a result of that war the gods had departed, leaving the realms to be ruled by humans. It was said that the potency of magic was lost with their departure, that the gods had bound it to prevent mankind from ever threatening them in the heavens.

“Sure do, but that ain’t the problem.”

“What is then?”

“Think about it. All that energy bound for years, with just a little more created every day. It adds up. What happens when the rain season goes on too long?”

“The flood of the Nile reaches the towns, washing them away.” The king leaned forward on the throne. “Could that happen with the mana?”

“Yeah, eventually it will. Either that dam will burst or someone will bust it open. Maybe I’ll do it.” Set grinned. “Now shift your thinking. You’ve seen men starved before. Shriveled and weak, pathetically lingering on.”

As much as the king tried to keep the belly’s of his people full, there were always tribes or slaves who’d suffered so. “Yes.”

“Know what happens if you give a feast to a man so starved?”

Netjeriykhet considered. “No.”

“He dies. The body can’t handle the shock of it. You have to feed them slow.”

The king then understood. The gods had bound the energy and thus men were now starved for magic, having endured generations of energetic famine. He’d seen the priests struggle to do even simple things: to levitate a cup, start a fire, or even speak across great distances, things that according to the legends were once trivial and commonplace. The tolls on their bodies from even these efforts was high, despite years of training.

What would it do to the people should they all be overwhelmed with such power?

“Lord Set,” said the king cautiously, “We would not be talking like this unless you already had a solution in mind.”

“No shit. It’ll take deep strategic thought, something you seriously lack with all this single-lifespan-at-a-time crap.”

Netjeriykhet glared at the god, anger still held in check but rising. A king could only tolerate so much, even from a god. “Try me.”

Set nodded approvingly. “There you go. The plan is to maintain our people’s kingdom for generations and we build. No more infighting between us, fun as that is. At least, not until the device is complete.”

“Device?”

“Thoth has a grand design of stone and power. We build channels for the power to go. Restrain it by rerouting in endless cycles, so the rate at which it slams the world is slowed. Save our people.”

“You would do this? Declare a peace so this can be done?”

“What’s the point of being a god if no one is around to worship? There is however a price. For us both.”

“How so?”

“The design requires strength and subtlety. Those better be built in from the start or the whole structure will collapse. And they better remain to keep the whole thing empowered for the thousands of needed years. I’ll pay for the potency. I’m much stronger than you.”

“And what is needed from me?”

“Heru’s left eye. The subtlety of the moon and its vision to best guide the flow.”

The king shook his head in dismay. “How can I agree to that? I am not him! I am but a man!”

“Thinking otherwise doesn’t change a damn thing. You are he. We also will need my priests, and especially that boy.” Set pointed at the child standing with those still cowering in their chains.

“Why?” Was this the trick? All this talk of magic as justification to keep his rebellious ringleaders alive?

“Because you’re an idiot, being stuck as a human. The design needs to be given to someone whose brain won’t turn to mush by its complexity.”

“And your priests can do this?”

“They can train this boy to do it. He alone has the potential.”

The king rose from the throne. To his soldier’s dismay he pushed past their spears to crouch down before the kneeling child, dangerously close to the god-possessed man.

“Lift your head, boy,” the king commanded.

Eyes a mix of green and gold met the king’s.

“Do you have a name?”

The boy shook his head, afraid to even utter a word.

Looking back at the channeled god, the king spoke. “You promise peace until this great work is complete?”

“Without it the project fails. I will crush any threats to its success.” The god tightened a fist.

“If your men had won the battle, what would you have done?”

The god grinned darkly. “Forced you to agree.”

“Not kill me?”

“Your next incarnation might’ve had no spine and been useless.”

The king paused to consider. “I will need to consult my priests and their oracles. The Lord Ra must have his chance to speak.”

Set growled. “That will waste time. The old fool will debate and argue. For once act on your own! Be a true king and god!”

“They must be consulted.”

“You’re hopeless. And I don’t need to be here to watch you dawdle.” With that his eyes rolled up into his head and the man who he’d possessed fell unconscious to the floor.

The king pondered without comment before offering a hand to the boy. “Stand.”

Hesitantly, the boy took it.

“For the sake of our kingdom,” said the king, “you are to be blessed. You have been brought here with an offering of peace. Let it ever be remembered.”

After lifting the wide-eyed boy to his feet the king shouted his declaration.

“This boy shall hereafter be known as Imhotep! He Who Comes In Peace!”

 

Zap watched as years flew past. Imhotep grew into a strong man, becoming his most trusted vizier, guiding the construction of an absolute marvel of engineering. Sacred scrolls were written describing how to continue the work with each new generation, to build a network of structures to await the day when magic power would once again return to the world.

Their own contribution, the centerpiece, rose layer by layer as well as dug deep into the ground. Room after room was crafted, the layout all in accordance to Imhotep’s divinely inspired instructions—even when they made no sense. False entrances, dead end corridors, rooms full of vases and bowls piled from floor to ceiling, they all were made as ordered.

None of it was comprehensible to the king, but the resources of his kingdom were poured into it nonetheless. One part concerned him specifically: his burial chamber. Imhotep had expressed the need to guarantee which human life the king’s spirit would be born to next, to make sure that the plan would continue far after each specific lifetime was done.

The king’s last memory was that of being a ghostly spirit, rising from the remains of his old body only then to finally see all that Imhotep had built. A skein forged of brilliant energy channels winding their way in exacting circuits to pass between spirit and stone, life and death. Streams reflecting colors both possible and impossible elegantly tied together forged out of the purpose to protect those whom a king truly served. It was the most beautiful edifice Netjeriykhet had ever seen.

It was also the most beautiful thing Zap had ever seen.

A giant and slightly feathered hand pulled him up, the waters of memory dripping from his clothes and skin, taking the vision with them. If the hand hadn’t been so strong, he would have squirmed free to plunge back below.

“I warned you to stay in the shallow end,” sighed the bird-headed god. “But I think you’ve been gone just long enough, little one. Off you go!”

Like a fisherman tossing back his catch, the god threw him over the waters and towards a shore which faded from view as Zap opened his eyes once again to the walls of his own bedroom.

A rather cold bedroom.

Still disoriented, Zap sat up. It really was chilly in here. Had the cottage’s heat failed?

Shards of broken glass glittered across the floor away from a frame no longer holding an actual window. The curtain billowed with an Autumn’s nighttime breeze.

Had he done that? Or had Thoth?

No, that was unlikely. For if he had been the cause then the glass would have blown outward and not in and across the room.

Something outside had gone horribly wrong.

~o~O~o~

 

It had been a stressful couple of days, which the extra excretions in his tank could testify. The poor students stuck cleaning out the gunk from the pool had needed double duty in order to keep up, and while they’d been assigned the task as detention for misbehavior Louis wondered if he should do something nice for them anyway. He’d mention it to Mrs. Carson when she returned.

Her absence was part of his concerns. She, along with Circe and Rabbi Kirov, had been summoned to Washington for a summit on the topic of, as she’d put it, the ‘angel issue’. While her demeanor had projected only calm and focus, he knew her better than that. She too was extremely worried.

The day before a representative from the Vatican had arrived at the school. They’d requested to meet Jordan, but of course with her disappearance that was impossible. Officials in Washington had not reacted well to that bit of news nor to the Vatican sending someone directly without consulting the government first and everyone had immediately departed for the capital.

The fact that another of their angelic students had again fallen into coma did not help things either. Not that they’d shared the details of August (or Ester for that matter) with the authorities, which was yet another thing he worried about. It had been Carson’s decision but he felt that Whateley had gotten caught up in something much larger than itself. Carson saw the individual’s needs (especially the needs of her students) as paramount, but whether he liked acknowledging it or not his own view strayed to a bigger picture. Having literal angels walking around campus was definitely part of some world-shifting series of events.

Hence the levels of stress and hence the ongoing fight to get the pH balance in his waters correct so the darned itching would stop and maybe, just maybe, he could finally get some rest.

It being the middle of the night the campus was quiet as he allowed his consciousness to float slowly over the grounds, noting the security personnel performing their routine patrols. In many ways the school was more like a military base than a proper academic institution, but Whateley had suffered dire threats too many times to be structured otherwise.

A single stray student caught his attention as they were out way past curfew and were obviously lurking in front of one of the girls’ cottages. Even odder was that the boy was mostly dressed in pajamas with shoes and coat thrown on as if afterthoughts. Louis was about to manifest his astral self and confront the boy on his late-night sojourn when something new impinged upon the psychic’s awareness.

Outside the wards there was a disturbance in the ether. Pain and horror emanated from beyond the warded perimeter, and as he mentally drew closer the intensity was rising fast.

Past the spirit-demarcation line and within the nearby forest a portal closed upon itself. Left behind in the damp grass lay a crystalline sphere about the size of a bowling ball. Upon perceiving it clearly Louis had to fight back a sensation he hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

Blind panic.

The sphere formed a psychic black hole. All the worst and darkest emotions of humanity had been bundled within all too fragile crystal cords winding in tighter and tighter circles towards its center, binding an amount of fierce psychic energy beyond anything he’d ever experienced. Just brushing the edges had him touching the sensations of the slaughter of innocents, their blood and cries shrieking madness and despair. The device strained to contain what could only be described as a nuclear warhead of psychic terror, ready to plunge unshielded minds into depths of nightmares beyond imagining. Compared to it, Louis—with all his own considerable power and talents—felt very small.

Resting on top of this crystal psychic bomb was a small conventional device. A timer counted down and was only a few seconds away from zero.

He had only one possible course of action. With all the psychic muscle he could muster within those few precious ticks of that clock, he reached out to blanket the entire school with his considerable will. At every student, teacher, and staff member, at every precious consciousness he could touch, he forced a direct command deep into their minds.

SLEEP!

He wrapped his own sense of self and will around every last soul he could reach and braced for an impact he wasn’t sure he’d survive.

~o~O~o~

 

Khan meowed and pawed at Jenna’s face.

With a groan, she rolled away. “C’mon kitty, lemme sleep!”

The cat dared a quick bite to an ear.

“Ow!”

Groggily, Jenna flipped back to meet the insistent stare of the fuzzy attacker. With Jordan missing she’d taken it upon herself to care for the little guy. And since no one could tell her where Jordan had gone, Jenna had decided to sleep in Jordan’s room. It was the most likely place for her best friend to stumble into should she ever make it back to the world. If she was hurt or needed help in any way Jenna was going be be there for her.

Sharp-toothed kitties not withstanding.

“Look fluff-ball, you’re cute and all but I fed you before conking out. Seriously, your bowl is full.”

Khan was not impressed. He meowed again even louder and turned to face the windowed double doors of the balcony. Jenna sat up, the cat’s strange behavior making her nervous.

“What is it? Is it Jordan?”

Something flashed through the windows except it wasn’t light. In fact it was the reverse, as if a darkness had swallowed the moonlight bathing the distant forest trees. That darkness was racing towards the school.

“That ain’t Jordan,” Jenna said in sudden alarm, sliding her feet out from under the covers as if to get out of the bed.

With a hiss, Khan slapped a paw firmly down on her leg to pin it there with more strength than the cat should have possessed. Turning in place he faced the doors, large furry tail rising impressively in full angry floof mode.

Jordan’s cat roared as the darkness slammed into the doors, sending glass bursting inward. Except he roared not with the growl of a housecat but the deep throated bellow of an enraged forest beast.

The triple wards surrounding Jordan’s bed lit up as if afire, sending triple columns of white power rushing into the ceiling as the wave of darkness billowed into the room, smashing into that sudden protection and flowing around with the screeching of a wind which was not wind.

Khan roared again. Within the light of the empowered circles was the friendly fuzzy cat she had grown to love and superimposed upon him a larger-than-life silver and white tiger stood protectively over her glowing brightly with his own fierce energy.

That horrible darkness shrieked with the fury of a thousand howling voices tearing through the air and joining her own frightful screams. Everything on the shelves was sucked into that maelstrom, smashing about and bouncing off the triple-reinforced column of light surrounding the bed.

The cacophony was deafening and lasted for what seemed like ages.

Yet as quickly as it had come it was suddenly over, books falling to the floor as if gravity had suddenly been returned.

The markings of the circles dimmed as the power faded. Outside their bounds fragments of glass and the bent spines and pages of Jordan’s book collection lay scattered across the floor mixing in with broken glass.

Khan, again his normal and smaller self, huffed. Moving off her leg he gave a softer meow, nudging her with his nose.

It took a moment to find what was left of her voice. “Is it safe?”

He nudged her leg again and looked towards the empty frames of the balcony doors. When she slipped out from under the sheets she wasn’t surprised to see that her skin had turned once again to protective stone. At least she didn’t have to worry about cutting herself on the many shards of glass.

The cat hopped down from the bed to pad with careful chosen steps to the balcony, stopping to look back at her and meep again.

“What?”

He scratched at the wood so she went over to open them, even though the cat could easily have fit through an empty panel if he’d wanted. With a quick hop Khan was on the balcony railing. He meowed again insistently. Protectively.

She thought she understood.

Picking him up, Jenna leapt the railing, her stone-empowered legs easily taking the impact from landing on the grass below. With a squirm Khan then jumped out of her arms to race across the moonlit lawn.

Without a word she gave chase, struggling to keep up with the cat’s incredible burst of speed.

When she caught up Khan was sitting next to one of the school security guards who had fallen in the middle of the concrete sidewalk by the campus hospital. Bending down she checked the guy’s neck. Thankfully there was a steady pulse and he was still breathing. She spoke to reassure the cat as much as herself.

“He’s alive.”

Khan bumped his head against her hand, looked at the hospital and then back at her. Another loud insistent meow caught at her thoughts as she regarded the scene.

The lights were all off and Doyle’s windows were dark. The emergency power generators hadn’t kicked in.

“Shit! If any patients in there are on life-support they’re screwed!”

This time she didn’t wait for Khan to run ahead; she tore across the lawn towards the back of the hospital at full tilt. The diesel generators were there and designed to switch over automatically but that crazy maelstrom must’ve fried the failover circuits. They were built to power not just the hospital in an emergency but all the special accommodation rooms needed in Hawthorne. Without power supporting their unique environmental requirements many of her friends could die.

She just hoped there was a manual override somewhere.

~o~O~o~

 

Danielle’s phone blasted a song from Iced Earth in all its heavy guitar glory. Haruko, her roommate who was curled up under a fluffy comforter on a futon instead of a regular bed, shouted across the room.

“If you don’t shut that thing up I’m gonna flush it down the toilet!”

With a groan Danielle rolled over, fumbling to grab at the insistent device. Sleepy fingers finally latched and thumb-swiped the screen. “Hello?”

“Danielle?”

It was a boy, but she didn’t recognize the voice. “Who is this?”

“You’ve got to come downstairs. All the way outside.”

Through crusty eyelids she peered at the phone’s clock. “What the hell? It’s one a.m. asshole.”

“I’ve got information about Jordan. I know where she is.”

That woke her up. “About Jordan? Tell me!”

“The doors are locked, I can’t come up. You’ve got to come out here. I’m out front. Hurry! There’s no time!” The guy hung up.

Danielle stared at the display. The call was from an unknown number.

Her roommate’s face peered out from under her covers. “What was that?”

“Some guy saying he knows where Jordan is. He’s outside, wants me to go down.”

With a frown, Haruko pushed back the blanket. “Sounds like a trap.”

“I dunno. He sounded desperate. Fuck it, if it’s a prank I’ll kick his ass.” Hopping out of bed she threw a fuzzy robe over her sleeping flannels and shoved toes into a pair of equally fuzzy Tigger slippers.

Haruko’s eyes narrowed and she too got out of bed. Except instead of grabbing warmer clothing she picked up the jade knife she always had hidden up a sleeve wherever she went. This time she kept it in her hand. “I’ll go with you. Whoever it is needs to be taught not to mess with our sleep.”

Danielle grinned and the two of them quickly made their way down the hall and the following stairs.

It was colder outside than she’d expected, not that it bothered her. Cold had felt more refreshing than anything ever since her fae nature had manifested. The crisp air made things feel more alive. Moving away from the doors, she looked around for the mysterious caller and disturber of dreams, Haruko walking carefully besides her.

“I’m really sorry about this. I really am.” From the shadows by a hedge a figure stepped towards them.

She knew him. “You! What bullshit are you trying to pull?” Defensive instincts kicked in and she reflexively reached out to the elements surrounding her only to be blocked on all sides as Magnus deployed those weird psychic barriers of his, causing the scene around her to warp and blur. Unlike the last time they’d tangled he included an additional barrier under her feet.

“Just hang on,” he said, face contorting with concentration. Oddly he’d put walls around not just her and Haruko but also around himself.

Her roommate didn’t delay, she jabbed the dagger at the forcefield. The point sparked an impressive cascade of shimmering waves rippling through the wall but the field didn’t break. With a fierce yell she lunged again and again, and while the blade didn’t penetrate Haruko drew satisfaction from the resulting grunts of her captor.

“Dammit!” Magnus snarled. “I’m not trying to hurt you! We need these to be as strong as possible!”

Even through the weird and wavering barriers Danielle sensed it, like a needle of wrongness sliding into her third eye. What was seen with those magic senses over Magnus’s shoulder was even worse.

“Oh my god,” she whispered as a sandstorm of virulent energy spun past the edge of campus. As it rammed into the protective magic guarding their school it proceeded to shred through them like a tornado full of razorblades whipping its way through blocks of soft cheese. The mystic symbols and patterns comprising the academy’s key defenses flared and tried to hold but were peeled away piece by piece to fade out like spent fireworks.

And that terrible storm just kept getting bigger.

“Haruko, stop!” she cried, throwing arms around her roommate to prevent any more next dagger blows.

A shriek of fury came from the smaller girl as she slipped under the grab, checking herself barely in time from slicing at her roommate’s unexpected attack. But spotting Danielle’s horrified expression she too turned to look.

Whatever she said was lost in the deafening force of the impact slamming into the buildings and Magnus’ shields. Like a dust cloud covering everything in its path the power ripped past the buildings, glass and tiles shattering in all directions as each structure’s own psychic defenses were similarly stripped away. The wave smashed through them ignoring all psychic barriers and a manifested tumultuous wind of hurricane strength followed right on its heels.

Magnus, sweat openly pouring down his face, screamed defiance as the maelstrom plowed into his created barriers as he struggled to maintain the defense against a swarm of sheer insanity.

To Danielle’s amazement the forcefields held even as they were engulfed by a fury which had swallowed all lights with its passage. Within that darkness thousands of faces flickered in the black: young and old, bloody and on fire, all screaming with a terror and rage she scarcely could comprehend.

“Shut your eyes!” Haruko shouted into her ear. “Don’t look into it!”

The roar of its passage shrieked louder still but she did as bid, clenching eyes closed as strongly as she could. Together within Magnus’ pulsing and throbbing shields they held each other and all screamed.

They screamed for what felt like hours.

The following silence was broken only by the sounds of three students breathing heavily, throats raw and pained.

Danielle hesitantly opened one eye. She was kneeling on the sidewalk holding her roommate tightly to her chest. Magnus, also on his knees, wobbled there with eyes slowly focusing on hers. Thin lines of blood seeped from each nostril and from the corners of his eyes.

“You have to run,” he croaked. “Hurry. They’re coming for you.” The curly haired boy then fell face-first onto the sidewalk.

“Magnus!”

She went to move towards him but Haruko caught her arm.

“Wait!” her roommate hissed. “Look!”

A few feet down the path leading around the cottage electricity arced through the air. The glowing charge formed a line which split into two and opened a rift through which two dark hooded figures stepped. Once they were clear the portal crackled and closed.

The taller one paused to look around and quickly focused on the two girls. Under his hood a pair of eyes rolled with fire.

He grinned at them and the smile was clearly unkind.

Danielle reacted instantly. With a gesture she threw one of her most practiced spell from the battle sims. A weaving of illusion shot forth towards the pair of newcomers intending to scramble their senses and give a chance to get the heck out of Dodge.

The thick cloaks worn by the intruders absorbed the magic like a dish sponge sucking up soapy water. The man laughed.

“Anti-glamour protection, little faeling. Now it’s my turn.”

Flames erupted from not just his eyes but his face and hands, swirling before him as they grew in size to cast sharper and larger shadows from anything daring to block the fiery light.

“Crud,” choked Danielle as the flames coalesced into the outline of a man standing at least ten feet tall.

The cloaked man barked something in a language she didn’t know though at least one word was recognizable: Djinn. He commanded an elemental spirit and it was pretty obvious what kind.

With a crackling roar a wide stream of raw elemental fire flashed towards the trio of students, hot enough to sear concrete and burn the surrounding lawn to ash with its passage.

 

Chapter 12 - Callings

It took Zap several minutes before he finally was able to step out of the cottage and into the biting cold.

Of course he’d forgotten his jacket when running from room to room and had needed to go back to get it. All the electricity was knocked out so he had grabbed the flashlight he kept handy ‘just in case’ and had used that to find his way to check on the other students and the House Mother, Mrs. Horton.

They were all asleep. Breathing, but asleep. No amount of shaking or yelling at them had had any effect.

All the exterior windows had also shattered inward, sharp glinting pieces covering just about everything in the lounge. The total quiet of the cottage was absolutely eerie and with the lack of any emergency response from the rest of the school Zap had a sinking feeling whatever happened had hit a lot more than just Poe Cottage.

Looking around outside confirmed those suspicions.

All the lamps lining the paths between buildings were out and the only sound that could be heard was a chill wind blowing from the north.

Well, there was also the noise of a squad of power-armored men (or robots?) busily running between Schuster Hall and this large electric tear in the air lurking out in front of it. They were robbing the Administration building and Campus Security was nowhere to be found.

A disturbing thought crossed his mind. He might be the only one on the entire campus still conscious.

Zap knew that Schuster Hall held the Homer Gallery which housed a number of weapons and artifacts on display behind glass, but the rumors were that the truly dangerous stuff was properly hidden elsewhere. Which would make sense. So what were these assholes after?

A strange calm and clarity flowed through him, pushing aside any internal panic. Knowing that tackling a full squad armed-for-more-than-bears would be foolish, he opted instead to gather more information.

With a spoken word the young man shimmered and shrunk into a blue-grey hawk slightly smaller than a crow. After a quick flap of wings the bird glided silently between the buildings, landing atop one of the light-less lamp-posts overlooking the Hall’s main entrance.

While a hawk’s vision at day was massively superior to humans, in dim light they weren’t much better. Night hunting was left to the owls for a reason. Fortunately in the available moonlight he didn’t need superb eyesight to see what the guys in the strength-amplification suits were doing.

They were stealing stacks of gold. As much as their enhanced powered hands could carry.

Specifically they were stealing the gold all students got marched past to view on their first day on campus, a pile donated by a rather wealthy patroness of the school for just that purpose as if to show not only what a graduate could accomplish but also as a contrast to the other artifacts. Zap had always felt the stack of gold bars were more a statement about the value of wealth, that when reaching such a level of excess it served no more purpose than to be stared at by a bunch of curious (or bored) freshman while sitting there as inert metal accomplishing little else.

The hawk tilted his head to one side, content to watch the robbery. Trying to defend the gold at risk to himself would in a weird way invalidate its entire message. The whine of the servos in their suits kept up a good pace as all the ingots were rushed past the portal, joining the loud whistling wind which kept getting stronger bringing with it the clear smell of snow. Clouds built up in the sky above, enfolding the scene with wider shadows as they flowed across the moon. It would be wiser to find a covered tree branch to lurk in for the night.

Except the next guy out of the Hall wasn’t carrying gold. In his hands was clearly a computer, power cord and network connections dangling shortly behind having been severed clean to more easily rip the unit from its rack.

That wasn’t a desktop system, it was an Administration server blade. Where the details of the abilities of the students, all their progress and powers testing, would likely be stored. And not just students, but the evaluations of the teachers and the staff themselves. The kind of information that in the wrong hands could be a dire threat to each and every one of them. He knew the computers would be protected not just by encryption and passwords but by magical wards except whatever had happened to the campus to knock everyone out had also clearly ripped away all such protections from the buildings. Which meant it was likely that the magical wards preserving the precious data were also gone.

Being the middle of the night posed a difficulty. Ra’s sun energy couldn’t help him. The pendant he’d been gifted by the god for the journey to Arcadia had been used up fighting the fae and had never recharged. Besides, it was back in his cottage room anyway. The previous week he’d even tried to tap energy from the moon, figuring it was reflected sunlight and might work. The resulting migraine behind his left eye had been fairly convincing that such a maneuver was not recommended. Not to mention the vision he’d just experienced had hinted that the full power of Heru’s moon-eye of myth and legend may be otherwise occupied and had been for a rather long time.

He needed a different source if he were to fight, at least if he wanted a chance to win.

A short beak lifted towards the storm-covered sky. A number of years ago a flash of lightning from a Thunderbird spirit had triggered his first transformation, and later he’d again caught such power to keep it from striking down a girl threatened by a demon-possessed mage.

This gave rise to an idea.

Talons released their perch to swoop towards the guy with the computer as he ran down the steps. With a precise shift of wings, the small hawk landed on an armored shoulder.

“What the hell? Shoo you stupid bird!” With his hands full the thief tried to wiggle his shoulder to dislodge its sudden petite rider. Razorlike talons dug in, refusing to yield their grip.

Another thief passing the other way laughed. “Hey Steve, you made a friend!”

“Shut up and get it off!”

A powered glove casually swiped towards the hawk just as the bird emitted a loud cry towards cloudy skies both in this world and beyond. The hand’s attempted strike never landed.

The Thunderbird’s blasting reply however did.

~o~O~o~

 

Hassan ibn Tariq al-Shadid, known professionally as the Summoner, was not pleased. What was supposed to be a simple and quick contract had clearly gone sideways after an otherwise promising start.

After all, it’s not often that one’s target is caught outside awaiting for your arrival and thus removing any need to waste time in searching for them.

“Djinn! Keep the heat focused on the fae!”

The girl had reacted quickly, he had to credit her with that much. When her glamour had failed (as if he wouldn’t have been prepared for a fae target, ha!) she hadn’t simply submitted to the wall of crimson flame sent flying at her face. Instead the ground pulled itself up and over, covering her and her friends with a protective barrier of packed dirt to fend off the flames. Now they lay under a solid mound of earth reaching up to chest height. If it wasn’t so frustrating he’d have laughed at the literalness of facing an actual faerie hill, but he knew he was on the clock. A place like this would eventually get reinforcements and he had no intention of still being here when they arrived.

As the elemental continued to pour fire onto the already-blackened mound, Hassan’s female companion scoffed. “Well this is going swimmingly. I thought you said everyone was supposed to be unconscious or brainless.”

“All plans alter once engaged. Which is why I called you in.”

The woman pulled back a hood to reveal hair of metallic blue glistening with the reflected firelight. Looking at the buildings, she frowned. “Wait a minute. Where the heck are we?”

“What does it matter?” He crossed his arms, watching with no little amount of fascination as the elemental called unlimited flames into the world. Such power!

“Indulge me, Hassan. This doesn’t feel right.”

“We are presently at a place known as Whateley Academy.”

The thin athletic woman gaped at him. “Are you fucking insane? You sonuvabitch!”

“Their defenses are defeated. I fail to see the problem.” Eyes hiding behind remnants of fire glanced sideways at her. It would be a shame if she too had to be consumed by such a beautiful element.

“This place is under protection! By all the heroes and even the syndicates! It’s bad enough you didn’t tell me your target was a kid, but this?” She took a step backwards towards the rift that had gotten them there.

“If you leave,” he said quietly yet full of underlying menace. “All will know you as an oath-breaker. You owe me, Tanya. Or have you forgotten?”

Her step paused. “I’m no oath-breaker.”

“Then fulfill your purpose here. Protect me. No more and no less.”

Tanya glared at his back but stayed where she was. Her hand turned over and the hilt of a wickedly sharp looking short sword materialized within her grip.

“Good.” He returned his attention to the elemental. “Djinn! Are they still bound beneath this earth? They are not to get away!”

With breath formed from the purest of fires the djinn replied. “The two are still contained, Sahib.”

“Two? There should be three!”

Instinct gained from experience shoved Hassan into a forward roll just as a jade dagger sliced into the space where his back had been. The unusual dagger tore through the edges of the billowing magically armored cloak as if its protective spells were merely suggestions.

Haruko, having stepped up out of her opponent’s shadow as her father had trained, shouted a kiyai and lunged forward at Hassan.

“Djinn! Roast her!”

A fiery hand gestured and the stream bombarding the earth split into two, the new flow scorching the air towards the girl with unnatural and deadly focus even while the original remained on target. Haruko tried to dance to the side but to her dismay ten slender sharp stilettos had appeared in the air to not only block her path but also fly towards whatever vulnerable spots they could find.

Her surprise cost essential time and she turned to bravely face the massive heat that was about to surely end her life. Hands reflexively covered her stomach and she mentally sent an apology to the spirit that nested there.

Except she didn’t burn.

Instead the flames broke off, whipping past her head on both sides like a split tongue just barely licking hotly at the edges of her hair.

No one moved as the flames slowly died out. Not Haruko, not the girl with the manifested blades, nor Hassan. Into the stunned silence the djinn, the burning being of elemental fire, spoke—but this time to Haruko in her native Japanese.

“I greet thee, bearer of the Dragon Lord’s heir. By ancient compact mine flames shall touch you not. I also offer warning that I am currently bound and can grant thee no protection.”

With that the djinn placed fiery palms together and bowed.

Haruko, mind racing with adrenalin, returned the gesture.

“What did he say?” snarled Hassan, feeling his control of the situation slipping away even further.

Tanya summoned a second sword to her off-hand and stepped towards the smaller girl. “He said that it’s time for me to cleanse my debt and be done with you, you bastard.” Several other blades appeared in the air between Haruko and Hassan blocking any chance of the student reaching him first. “Come, girl. Let’s see how good you are.”

Haruko’s slender eyes narrowed further. With a rapid shuffling of sandaled feet the jade dagger engaged the blue steel of Tanya’s will-forged weaponry.

~o~O~o~

 

The air was stifling.

Under the earthen barrier Danielle lay across a semi-conscious Magnus, doing her best to reinforce the strength of the packed dirt valiantly holding against the external inferno. The fire elemental hadn’t let up, she could feel its power focused on one thing: scorching through the all-too-thin ground she’d pulled over them.

Magnus moaned and coughed, a reminder that there wasn’t much air in the dirt pocket. This was definitely not how she’d imagined her first time being so close to a boy would turn out.

When she’d imagined such a hot scene with a cute guy, this wasn’t the kind of heat she’d had in mind.

She reached inward towards that wintry center, the one that had unlocked itself back in that Los Angeles storage room full of crazy magic. The one that had seemed further away from any conscious control ever since she had let her previous self emerge back in the dreamlands to try and save its heart and people.

A momentary cool breeze fluttered against her face but ended all too soon. Like grasping at sand the inner chill slipped away.

“Fuck!” She fought back panic. At least Haruko might survive. At the last second the small girl had rolled to the side to disappear into the shadows like a true ninja. Maybe she could go and get help.

“Magnus, you awake?” Danielle asked. Spots of skin across her back began to sizzle. While she might be able to hold on due to her regeneration the boy under her had no such abilities. Fractal lines of glowing red were already spreading through the packed earth surrounding them, piercing the otherwise pitch blackness with their menacing message. Even if Haruko found someone, there wasn’t time to wait for help. They were only a few moments away from becoming barbecue.

He groaned again, emphasizing the point. “Hot.”

“Can’t you do your shield thing?”

“No,” he gasped. “Magic’s gone, s’up to you.”

“I don’t know what to do!”

“Figure it out.” He coughed again.

How? In her studies she had focused on trying to learn control to keep that wintry heart from bleeding out with all the snow and ice whenever she got worked up. Why wasn’t it doing that now? Glamour and illusions weren’t going to work due to the protective spells worn by the two intruders and if she were honest to herself the reaction to use the earth as a shield had happened purely by instinct. She hadn’t given it a thought, it was as if an ancient memory had triggered and she’d done the same thing by rote as maybe her previous self had done at some point in the far past.

Maybe that was it. She’d pulled Siabh, her former fae self, up from within to take control in Arcadia when they had needed her most. Siabh was ancient and powerful, handling a single elemental should be trivial for her. Yet there had been a strong feeling that Siabh had weakened in saving Arcadia, summoning her might now be impossible.

There was only one way to find out.

“Hang on, I’m going to try something.”

Magnus gave no response. The poor guy had passed out.

Ignoring the heat as best she could she focused again on that touch of cold that was always within. If Siabh was to be found she’d be there.

With an effort of will so was Danielle.

 

Bare empty bark rose up through a soft cloth of fresh-driven snow, illuminated only by a sliver of moon piercing an otherwise grey sky. There was no path through this silent forest yet her feet knew the way to tread, wending between the husks of trees awaiting a spring which never came. The unseen path carried her to a woolen cloaked figure kneeling over a frozen lake.

“Siabh.” Her lips spoke the name, cracking the silence.

Pale hands rested against the crystal clear ice. Below and encased in the immovable water sat an old stone well that rose up out of silty earth. Boards of ash and oak covered the well’s top held in place by thick bolts of steel, the wooden surface carved with runes that glittered dimly under the ice like constellations hovering behind a thin fog.

“Siabh,” she said again moving closer still. “I need your help.”

“The Goddess needs yours, child. Will you give it?” The figure stood. Woman and girl faced the other like reflections from a mirror showing either what was or what would be, the woman once a girl and the girl soon to be a woman. Hair as clear as snow with eyes matching the color of the frozen lake framed high cheekbones and slender noses. They were the same, separated only by time - and by the single stroke of yellowish-red hair dangling from the girl’s forehead alone.

“I don’t understand,” the girl replied.

Graceful fingers gestured towards the ancient boards capping the well. “Look closer.”

The girl knelt to explore the vision that lay underneath and examined not just the immaculately carved wood but the spells woven between them. Lines of stress criss-crossed the working, fractures spreading outward from two impact spots as if a pick-axe had hammered strongly into the boards. She felt the pressure underneath, a pulsing need straining to burst upward to become a geyser with power enough to flood the world.

The cracks widened even as she watched.

“It’s going to burst,” said the girl, swallowing cold heavy air.

“Yes. Aradia’s return and our song of need from Arcadia has weakened the spells. The time has come at last. ”

“Then the world needs you back.” Summoning what courage she could muster she added, “I am ready to let go so you can be.”

“Oh child.” Arms warm and comforting enveloped the girl who hadn’t realized she’d been shivering and not from the cold. “My time is past and done. The future is yours alone.”

“But what good am I? I’ve been captured, shot, captured again and damn near tortured. I couldn’t stop any of it! Uncle Justin saved me and look what happened to him! And then she had to save me again…twice! And it was you that saved Arcadia, not me. The only thing of use that I did was to let you take over so someone who knew what she was doing could get it done. And now Jordan is gone and yet another asshole is trying to kill me. I’m useless! I don’t have your strength. I just don’t.” She sobbed into the warmth of the woman’s cloak and a soft sleeve wiped away frozen tears.

“Our strength has always been hers, found within when we choose to seek it.” The woman took gentle hold of the girl’s hand. “For her power needs a guide. But beware, for the guide shapes the power as much as they are shaped by it.”

“I can’t guide anything; I can’t even guide myself!”

“Are you saying you are unwilling to fight? Would you abandon those who need you?”

A wind blew across the snow surrounding them, revealing more of the lake’s hard surface. Under its ice new images flickered into view: an unconscious young boy with curly red hair drenched in sweat gasping for every breath while molten dirt seared into his legs and a slip of a girl danced in blood-stained pajamas parrying blow after blow from innumerable floating daggers.

“Magnus, Haruko,” whispered the girl.

“As the Goddess needs you, so do they.”

“How do I help them? How?”

The older woman pressed the girl’s hand against the ice, the cold pulsing with the power leaking from the cracks in the seal below.

“By feeling your need will you feel hers. And by feeling hers will you feel your own.”

Raw magic pierced her palm to charge up the veins and fill her heart. Siabh was right. The Goddess called for help.

A young woman reached into herself and knew she must answer.

~o~O~o~

 

Pain blossomed across Haruko’s body where the flying blades had left sharp trails across the skin. Strips of kimono pajamas hung loose to spin and weave as if they were but ribbon decorations in an elegant ballet as Haruko launched rapid lunges, kicks, and strikes against her blue-haired opponent.

She knew the moment she dared to pause to catch her breath what little air she drew would likely be her last. The woman’s talent to summon cold steel from thin air required time to focus, time Haruko could not afford to grant despite the disadvantage of her single jade dagger versus the twin short swords held expertly by the enemy and the swarm of less precisely controlled daggers. The blood dripping at her feet was a fresh reminder of what all those blades could do.

In this the harsh training received by her father’s hand served her well. Since a young age she had been taught by the best instructors her father could hire. Each of her birthdays had commenced with her sparring against her father directly, the fearsome Kurohoshi Kami. While normally doting upon his daughter with tremendous affection these annual tests had shown her father’s severe and demanding spirit. Many were the bruises she had suffered at his hands and feet upon those days. Only when the bouts were over and the respectful bows and forms complete did her loving father reappear as if by magic to personally tend with great care to all the marks and scrapes he had just caused to be.

Yet at the moments they had appeared upon her body there had never been a break or pause to let her recover. No, instead without a word he would press his attack with a relentlessness and fury that even as a small child she could tell greatly disturbed the watching instructors.

Each year’s birthday exam was a test for them as well. Should she fail to meet expectations those instructors would never be seen again and new masters would arrive to continue all lessons for the following year. Thus she countered strength with speed, age and experience with an immersive and total focus.

Plus the shadows were her ally.

The bright moon still shone from above to cast clear shadows upon the ground mixing with those caused by the blazing glory of the fire elemental’s blasts against Danielle’s protective earthen mound, creating pools of darkness Haruko could touch and use. She had learned ancient disciplines bestowed by her father behind closed doors when they were alone. “Hide these skills, Haruko,” he had told her. “Use them only when you must. Practice only in private.”

And she had. No instructor nor student at Whateley had witnessed those secret techniques. Indeed she had maintained the story that the spirit of the dragon egg she held within her prevented any use of magic to further keep these skills hidden.

Side-stepping her opponent’s swords she wrapped her smaller shadow across Tanya’s face, darkening the eyes if but for a moment. At the same time the blue-haired lady’s shadow rose upwards to take Haruko’s place only to be pierced by the strong counter-attack thrown out wildly by Tanya’s annoyance towards the first target glimpsed once her vision began to clear.

Having slipped behind the taller woman, Haruko spun and sliced through Tanya’s coat once more, the jade dagger - another gift from her father - whipping past protective spells to draw its own line of blood across the skin underneath.

Tanya cursed at the pain before giving a grim smile and nodding acknowledgment. Neither slowed however, and the competition between the longer reach of the swords against the speed of weaponized shadows and dagger continued unabated.

In the end it wasn’t her skill that failed her. If anything it was the narrowness of her focus.

Around her were many sources of malleable darkness: Tanya’s, her own, the one behind the man who controlled the elemental, even the building itself threw a blanket of delineation between darkness and light. Grabbing hold of them Haruko spun the blackness around herself while also creating mirror copies of her own image. Tanya, suddenly faced with several hazy outlines of the fierce and determined student, slashed through them one by one only to growl with frustration as the number never seemed to diminish.

Staying one step ahead, Haruko danced around those swords waiting for the right moment to strike at an unguarded side. As the opening appeared she darted forward hoping to end this fight by leaping into the real enemy’s shadow to try and plunge her dagger deep into his back.

A blade pierced her own arm instead with enough force that she cried out in agony, only to be followed by the blade’s twin slicing deeply into a thigh. To her horror the leg collapsed and she looked past Tanya’s victorious expression to the sky beyond.

Clouds had just covered the moon and stolen away the individual shadows.

Her own chest heaving from the exertion, Tanya placed a swords to Haruko’s throat. “Yield, girl. No need to die.”

Pride fought the spike of fear and she tensed as if to risk a desperate strike.

The countering materialization of several knives floating only centimeters above her skin won out. Haruko nodded and sank further into the cold and damp lawn.

Seeing tears not of pain but of shame, Tanya knelt beside the half-asian girl. “You fought well.” Glancing at a sky which rapidly was overtaken by thick clouds racing down from the north, Tanya added, “If it weren’t for those I think you’d have had me. There is no loss of honor when fate itself swings the outcome.” A flash from above and the immediate nearby crash of thunder seemed to punctuate the point and Tanya muttered, “Whoa, that was close.”

Haruko also studied the storm that had caused her fall. In a quiet voice tinged with pain she corrected her opponent.

“That is not fate.”

Too late did Tanya understand and her shout of warning to Hassan was never heard.

The earthen mound hiding the boy and fae exploded with eardrum shattering force. While a chunk of earth floated mid-air to keep shielding against the elemental’s fires, a being of an entirely different elemental nature stepped forth from the ground’s exposed crater.

With a gesture the icy-eyed fae commanded the full power of winter’s wrath against those who meant her harm. The wind and sleet sheeting down from the now-gathered storm forged itself into a whirling tornado at the behest of its new mistress and lashed out with unrestrained glee.

Haruko managed a coughing laugh as Tanya was lifted instantly from her feet and slammed into the walls of the cottage. As the whirlwind shifted towards Hassan he yelled at the being of fire to protect him. Obeying immediately, the towering djinn placed itself between the wind and its master by the expedient of standing directly over him, focusing all its fires in a circle to hold the icy blast at bay. Where before the flames had battered against a protective mound of dirt they now forged their own defensive dome of thick flame.

Unyielding fire met irresistible ice. The resulting explosion of steam burst outward in a continual boiling flow to quickly cover everything within thick fog. Through it all Haruko could still clearly see her roommate as a figure bathed in magic, the ley lines under the school having surged several orders of magnitude in size due to the flood of raw power the fae now pulled through them.

The strength of it took Haruko’s breath away and within she felt her precious spirit dragon egg twitch in response to the magic. The being inside that egg stretched beyond its cocoon to grab at the immense flow spinning past, siphoning off what normally would be considered a tremendous feast but in comparison was a tiny fraction of the whole. The ecstatic rush from within her egg in its magic-dining ecstasy pulled her senses to other worlds even as all her wounds closed and faded away in response to the egg’s powerful overflow.

Hassan, driven to his knees by the pummeling wind as he hid desperately behind his fiery protector, fumbled within his coat to produce a thick chunk of chalk. Shouting words unheard over the screaming air he frantically drew upon the sidewalk surrounding him. All hope of mission success had shattered with the arrival of the power now arrayed against him; his only chance was to reopen the portal and escape. He’d worry about vengeance against those who’d misled him into the nature of the target and the supposed ease of the mission later.

They had said she was but a school-girl fae-ling. Not a Goddess-empowered fae able to hold even a summoned Fire Lord at bay. How this girl could even stand within such a torrent of magic was baffling. He knew that should he be stupid enough to try and tap that rising power himself they’d be picking pieces of his bones out of the bushes for days, if not weeks.

“Master, I cannot hold this queen in check.” The djinn strained from its effort, the reddish orange intensity of its fire having shifted all the way to blue. If it weren’t for the djinn’s focus keeping the boiling steam away from him, Hassan knew he would have already been boiled alive.

“Just hang on, dammit! There!” Struggling to stand he tossed the chalk aside and started the chant to reforge the gash in space which would connect to the prepared staging ground within a hotel room in a nearby town.

His eyes had just enough time to widen as they watched yet another girl, one much taller, bald, and with solid gleaming obsidian skin, step through his fire elemental and land a fist of hardened stone squarely against his jaw.

Consciousness fled along with a good number of teeth from the super-human strength of the blow.

~o~O~o~

 

A blizzard blew between the hawk and his prey.

Perched upon the motionless helmet of one of his successful hunts, Zap intently monitored the entrance to the Hall for any signs of another attempt by those inside to reach the crackling portal that lay open behind him.

So far the count was bird: six, invaders: zero. Only four were left, peering occasionally around the edges of the shattered glass doors which no longer offered any protection from the bitter cold and snow that whipped past. Their companions lay inertly within their ruined battlesuits across the ice-covered lawn and steps.

If it wasn’t for the electrical glow offering its own sparkling warmth Zap was pretty sure his feathers would have easily frozen too. But he hadn’t just called down the lightning, he’d captured its power and now the tremendous vibrating potential filled his bones, sinew, and feathers.

Tilting his head, the hawk could hear the debate occurring between the ones stuck inside.

“What’s the remote diagnostic say?”

“Shit. The systems are all fried. We’ll have to leave ‘em. Our priority was the servers, if we don’t get these through we ain’t gettin’ paid.”

“And how the hell we gonna do that? That damned bird is still out there and it’s got some kind of shield! I know I nailed it square on but it just kinda laughed at me!”

Zap grinned internally. With all the extra energy provided by the Thunderbird’s generosity, his magic was highly amped up. Small hieroglyphs burned in the air around him in tight orbits. His main concern at the moment was making sure nothing else came through the portal and at the same time keeping these idiots from getting away.

The humming of the rift in space shifted its tone, rising in frequency. Its edges had begun to shrink towards the center.

“It’s closing! Spread the fuck out! We all go NOW!”

Four screaming armored figures, each with a server blade tucked under an arm, charged down the steps while firing their weapons one-handed towards the waiting bird of prey.

With an answering hunting shriek the hawk took to the air, pushing past the howling wind and spinning towards the portal. Bullets flew wildly past as his opponents could hardly aim properly but one managed to ricochet off the blazing azure barrier wrapping around him. As for himself he had one chance at getting them all and he was determined to take it.

His will reached to the sky to issue one more request of the elements as they danced in all their giddy frenzy in the sky above. The storm itself was unnatural (he could tell that much) and the Thunderbird spirits were gleefully playing with the unleashed potentials for all they were worth.

Landing on the grass before the portal the hawk’s image flickered to be replaced once more by Zap’s young human form. Spreading out his arms he cried out to the heavens even as the men focused guns at the larger target, bullets sparking and bouncing off the whitish blue glyphs spinning madly around him.

Even within their suits the hairs on all the men’s arms and necks stood straight up. One even had time to curse.

“Ah shit.”

A ten foot wide wall of electrical glory plowed downward to slam into the space where Zap stood and he wasted no time in making use of it. Acting as a perfect conduit he flicked fingers towards the four to send lines of sheer force outward, flinging them off the ground even as all their electronic systems shorted out like small candles consumed by a rocket engine’s liftoff.

Yet that was only a small portion of the power he’d been granted. The majority he sent back through the portal to whoever may be waiting on the other side, the channeled lightning wedging itself between the narrowing edges and holding it open long enough to get its full payload of power through before the opening slammed shut.

If all the windows hadn’t already exploded the resulting thunderous shock of this blast would have taken them all out anyway. The ground itself rolled as it too tried to dissipate the forces, causing buildings to sway and groan.

Then the wind was still. Zap, steam rising off t-shirt and jeans, stood within a circle of scorched earth in the middle of all the powerless suits of armor lying scattered about like bowling pins. With eyes still sparking he noticed several other figures watching from a path that lead around the building.

Jenna, stony fists pulling behind her two obviously incapacitated individuals by their cloak collars, commented first.

“Daaaaaamn. That was awesome!”

Danielle, awkwardly supporting a rather exhausted looking Magnus with the help of Haruko, called out to Zap. “Are there any more?”

Zap shook his head. “I don’t think so. You cause the weather?” He pointed at the sky.

The mostly white-haired teenager grinned sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“Impressive.” He was about to say more but turned his attention to further below the clouds. A low sound approached over the forest.

“Helicopters,” said Haruko tiredly. “Many of them.”

Danielle clenched a fist and her eyes hardened. “Friend or foe?” In response the wind picked up again, snow collecting on all the students other than Zap. The ice melted into rain before it could land on his clothes and hair.

He peered past the weather and its flashes of distant lightning. “They’ve got DPA painted on their noses. I think it’s the cavalry.”

“Better late than never,” Haruko muttered.

“You can see that far?” Jenna asked, her own eyes blinking and failing to resolve the images through all the falling snow and distance.

Zap nodded with a wide grin.

A pair of F-16 Falcons dropped screaming from the clouds to buzz over the school. Along the road emerging through the fog spun the blue and red lights of many emergency vehicles speeding towards the campus. While everyone stared at those Zap heard a quiet chuckle from a nearby hazy shape forming itself from the shadows created by a helicopter’s floodlight suddenly bathing the area within its harsh brightness.

“Not bad, kid. You might make it to the party after all. Don’t be late.” With a flicker the shadow returned to being the proper silhouette of a lamppost.

No one else had heard or noticed. Well, no one except for a fluffy and frost-covered cat which had followed the others, green eyes shifting from staring at the shadow and then up at Zap. But the cat likely wouldn’t tell anyone.

Khan, Zap was sure, was pretty good at keeping secrets.

 

Chapter 13 - Tea

At Kami’s pronouncement I was instantly on my feet, wings unfurling and throwing eye-blinding light across the room. “I need to get there!” My mind spun frantically. Maybe I could shift to Gabriel’s pocket realm and from there back to the school? It might work.

Kami guessed at my intention and stopped me before I could even begin to try. “If you cross over can you be certain that you would arrive quickly from the other side? You only now returned after being missing for days.”

“Crap!” He was right. Who knows how long time would shift before I’d get back. And while I was pretty sure I could hit Mach 5 if they’d let me, that would still take over thirty minutes to physically get there. Plus whatever time spent dodging fighter jets sent to intercept. “So what do we do??”

He motioned with a forced calm at the cushion I’d just abandoned. “We wait. Information on the precise nature of the attack is not yet available. Response teams within reach are already activated. Sit. I shall make tea.”

I crossed my arms, more to try and contain the excess power I was generating than anything else. As for sitting, yeah that wasn’t going to happen.

Diego kept gaping at the wings while Kami Kurohoshi carefully prepared three cups on the tea-serving tray his man brought out. Steam rose slowly from an ancient teapot that Kami lifted with all the attention demanded by a most holy artifact. He placed crumbled leaves into its water and used a small whisk thing to stir the concoction.

Only once he was satisfied with the mixture did he pour the results into the waiting cups and offered them.

Diego took his with polite acknowledgment but I was still standing trying to contain wild emotions and the energies they had summoned.

“How do you know they’re under attack?” I blurted once Kami had finally taken a sip from his own cup.

“Intelligence is my business,” he said, now with genuine serenity. Something about the whole tea ritual had settled the fury which had been in evidence only a few minutes before. “Their electrical grid is out and the magical protections surrounding the school have been breached. Wireless communication via the cellular network cannot connect with any devices in the vicinity and the isolated hard lines are similarly cut. This has triggered certain emergency protocols.”

“Jesus,” I breathed, fighting panic.

Kami watched me carefully. “It will be a number of minutes before response from the DPA and army units from Fort Drum arrive along with the services from the nearby town.” He glanced at Diego. “Can I assume you are here in regards to your daughter?”

Diego nodded, sipping the steaming liquid from his cup.

After grunting, Kami returned his steely gaze to me. “Then it is your turn. Tell me why you have come tonight. It is likely pertinent to the operational scenario occurring at the school.”

“Assassins were sent tonight to kill my friend Isaiah.” Oh god, he was right! What if there was a connection between the attack on Isaiah and the school?

“The lawyer?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” About to say more, I paused. Diego didn’t know everything and even if only on suspension was still a government agent. How much could I tell him?

The wizard guessed at what was behind my hesitation and carefully put down the teacup. “I am no longer with the DPA. That was finalized this morning. Thus I am under no obligation to report anything I might hear. I give you my word, sworn against the life-debt I owe you, that I will never betray your secrets.”

Weighing Isaiah’s privacy versus possibly helping Danielle with whatever the hell was happening at Whateley was a no-brainer: I spilled the beans. “They were hunters. You told me about them before. Specifically they thought Isaiah was an angel. They just had the choir of angel wrong: they were hunting Grigori, and Isaiah is something else.”

Diego’s eyes had gone wide again but Kami merely raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“He’s the angel Azrael.”

Kami leaned back, eyes widening. Wow. I think that actually surprised him. “Well, well, well.” With a steady hand (how could his hands be so steady??) he took another sip. “Yes, that does fit.”

“Madre de Dios,” gasped Diego. “Angelo de la muerte.”

“Yeah, him.” I paced a few steps and uncrossed my arms awkwardly, then not knowing what to do with them just recrossed them over my stomach, hands clasping at the opposite forearms. “It gets better - or worse, depending.”

Kami inclined his head in agreement. “Yes. The Horsemen are loose.” I really should not have been shocked that he already knew that much but I flinched anyway. Hearing a guy like him say it just made it all the more real. Kami began enumerating on his fingers. “You are the first, Isaiah would be the fourth, and I can hazard a supposition at the third. Any signs of the second?”

“War?” I asked. “I got pulled into a dream the other night with a bunch of Grigori. They think Camael was summoned by Soren using the Book of Raziel to break the second seal. Wait, you can guess at the third? That’s Famine, right?”

Behind Kami’s more serious eyes a dragon laughed with humor. “Think, Aradia. What famine has covered the earth since angels last walked free upon her soil?”

I tried to figure it out but Diego answered first. “Magic. Our world once was awash with magic. And then the raw potency was lost.”

Kami’s nod hit me like a truck as I finally understood. “No. Please no,” I whispered. “It can’t be, she’s not…” Wings and legs crumpled to the floor and I with them.

“Not an angel?” The dragon’s mirth softened to pity. “Her spirit was once the high priestess of the goddess, a medium for the world’s spirit.”

Diego added, “Angelos means messenger. As a priestess of the fae, she indeed qualifies.”

I looked at him in surprise. How the heck could he know that Danielle was once Siabh?

He tried to smile, sensing my unease at his knowledge. “My daughter has told me of how she escaped Arcadia.”

Oh.

Kami grunted again. “Danielle’s former self is the very one who sealed that magic away during the Flood. Who else would the third be?”

The room swam like I was falling and unable to stop. I’d hoped that after her confrontation with Queen Fionnabhair she could live her life out in peace and be safe from any of the further craziness busy ruling my own fate. How foolish a hope. One as naive as the teenager I pretended to be.

Because they were right. Danielle, my niece and the reincarnation of Siabh, was the Third Horseman. It fit whether I wished it or no. And events were going to pull her towards that destiny and a full confrontation with what had happened in the distant past no matter what I did.

“My god,” I choked. “If someone tried to take out Isaiah for being Azrael, then the attack on Whateley is an attempt to kill Danielle.” I spread wings across the room and let them lift me to my feet. “I’ve got to try to get there. Even if I’m late, I have to try.”

Kami jumped to his feet far faster than he should have been able. “Aradia, wait!” He pointed towards the closed doors which dutifully opened to allow the scar-faced guy to enter and bow. If the man was surprised at the wings he gave no sign of it for his attention was given to his master alone.

“Report!” commanded Kami Kurohoshi.

In a gravelly voice the guy did so with deliberate care. “The situation at the Academy is contained. DPA and local forces are on scene. Mrs. Carson is en route and will arrive within minutes. A magical device of incredible magnitude was deployed and somehow overwhelmed all energetic protections: both mystical and electrical. The power is still out and almost everyone at the site has been found unconscious but alive.”

My stomach sank. “Almost everyone? Who died?”

The guy answered but kept his attention on his boss. “No deaths are reported. Several students were still conscious and defeated a targeted assault.”

“And the target?” Kami inquired.

“A student named Danielle Thorne. She is among those awake who fought off the attackers and informed the emergency responders of what had occurred.”

I couldn’t help it. Tears flowed freely. She was okay. My niece, my sister’s little girl, was okay.

“What of Haruko?” Kami shouted, the dragon’s fury finally breaching his control. “What of my daughter?”

The man bowed low. “Haruko-chan was one of those awake. She is reportedly unharmed.”

Her father’s eyes closed and he exhaled. The many trails of incense floating through the air all shifted as if someone or some thing much larger had also expelled a mighty breath of relief.

I knew exactly how the dragon felt.

~o~O~o~

 

After Kami’s guy left the room to monitor for more information we took a few minutes to sit in silence while sipping more of the tea. I’d managed (barely) to put away the wings so I could get my ass back on the floor without squishing any feathers. Kami was deep in thought and neither Diego nor myself were brave enough to interrupt his meditation. The tea was pretty good though, some kind of herbal mix I was unfamiliar with. It certainly was doing a decent job of soothing on-edge nerves. I really should have had some while waiting for the update on the school, it would have helped.

Kami finally broke the silence.

“The hunters were likely misled into targeting Mr. Cohen. Their techniques for identifying an angelic are primitive and given his true nature that would have confirmed their initial scan to be a verified target.”

“So someone used these assholes and tipped them off with wrong info? Could the hunters have attacked the school too?”

“They do not have the power to take down Whateley’s protections. In fact I doubt there are many on earth who would have enough magical throughput to accomplish that in such a quick amount of time.” Kami frowned.

Diego spoke up. “Your man mentioned a device. If my suspicions are correct, the DPA has seen its type before.”

Kami considered then nodded agreement. “You are likely correct.”

“What?” I looked back and forth between them. “What are you guys talking about?”

“The mana bomb,” Diego answered. “The one presumably deployed by Señor Soren that night of your…ascension.”

Kami studied the wizard. “According to sources your agency tracked the device back to a warehouse but failed to find any others.”

“The place was clear and the trail went dead from there,” Diego confirmed. “But the massive energetic residue clearly pointed to the location having stored additional units. The ley-lines were warped and twisted.”

I was confused. “I thought with the seal on magic that such power was limited if not outright unavailable.”

Diego’s tone went somber. “There are other ways to raise such power. Though managing to store it for later use is a feat far beyond my understanding.”

“What are you saying?”

“Necromancy.” Kami said before refilling his cup. “In ancient practice powerful spells were fueled by sacrifices both animal and human. But given the strength of Whateley’s shields, tied as they are to the world node the school sits upon, it would take the slaughter of hundreds outside their gates to pull their defenses down.”

“If not thousands,” added Diego. I was clearly confused so he tried to explain. “Power is unleashed when someone dies. The binding energy of spirit to body is released along with the emotional strength and nature of the manner of death. The old sacrificial rituals tapped such power.”

“Like the Aztecs,” I said, not liking where this was going.

“Exactly,” Diego agreed. “Their priests were capable of performing miracles at the height of their reign.”

The imagination ran amok with images of lines of people being cut down in front of the school and I shivered. Yet something else didn’t add up. “I thought Soren planted the bomb in Los Angeles as another distraction to keep you guys busy so his shenanigans with me and Danielle would be unnoticed. Killing Danielle would be one of the last things he’d want; he started this whole mess for both of us in the first place!”

Diego ran fingers through his thin beard. “Nick Wright was correct about the one found downtown. I was allowed to examine it before my suspension from the agency. The energy was contained and the binding mechanism fully intact and unbreached. If anything, the structure had been recently reinforced. It seemed in truth designed chiefly to overwhelm our detectors and cause a panic.”

“Would Soren know how to make them?”

Kami nodded. “Of three individuals of whom I am aware that might have such knowledge, he is indeed among them. The first lives a reclusive life in a monastery in China and would sooner die than traffic in death magic.”

“And the second?” I asked.

“He runs a nightclub in San Fransisco. His specialty is empathic manipulations which add flavor to his business. I highly doubt that he has the energetic capacity to channel such a magnitude as indicated here due to a certain condition with his health. Although he may have insight into how it was accomplished and could lead in the right direction to find the source. Trace that back and we may find whoever was behind tonight’s attacks.”

“No human wizard could safely channel such power levels,” said Diego. “But what is this condition of which you speak?”

Kami regarded Diego steadily. “Let’s just say that he may find in your daughter a kindred spirit. For that reason alone I recommend you speak with him - if he is willing.”

Stretching with impatience I stood up again. “Then Diego and I should get to San Fransisco and check this guy out. If it wasn’t Queen Fiona-whats-her-name then it may have been one of the Grigori I met the other night. There’s a lot of them though and who knows who they’ve incarnated as.”

Kami grunted disapproval. “No. You need to be on the next plane back to Whateley.”

Say what? “Your guy just said everyone there is okay. The threat is still out there and the sooner they are found the sooner they can be curb-stomped. I can’t just sit idly by on this. They attacked my family!”

“Hai!” With an open palm Kami smacked the floor and it resonated like a drum. “They also attacked mine! My Haruko shall remain at the school. Pulling her out after her victory against assassins would dishonor that victory. Yet the campus lies defenseless! You are needed there!”

“What good would I be compared to Mrs. Carson and a fully alerted security team?”

Diego coughed. “He is right, Jordan. You should go back to Whateley.”

I spun on him. “You too? Or are you just trying to keep me out of things?”

“Not at all.” Diego met my angry glare without flinching. “The Academy’s wards are down. You may be able to assist in their more rapid re-creation. They need you.”

“Do not forget,” Kami added, “our enemy waited for you to be absent before making their move. They fear your potential. The wizard will travel alone to the city by the bay; his daughter is already there.” He nodded at Diego. “Take Erica with you to the club called Beyond Silk. The one to talk to goes by the name ‘Bishop’. He will find her story fascinating.”

I bristled to argue and maybe even fight. At the same time I was torn. I wanted to be there for Danielle and keep her safe, really I did. It’s just that the thought of yet another nameless enemy plotting out there had me seething. I wanted to go after them and to punish them for daring to threaten those closest to me.

Right or wrong I wanted them to pay.

Scowling, fingers formed fists. “Diego. You better contact me as soon as you’ve learned anything, got it? The last time a magus went off to figure things out he didn’t call until it was almost too late to save the situation.”

He nodded. “I understand, Señorita. I promise.”

“Fine. Then I’ll go back to the school.” I turned to glare at Kami. “There was supposed to be a summit in Washington with a Vatican rep to discuss the whole issue of angels once again walking around. You probably already know about it. I also want updates on what you learn of things from behind the scenes - especially if that rep has any ties to the team that tried to take out Isaiah. I’ll also need a chartered flight back to campus if you want me there quickly.”

“What’s wrong with coach?” He raised an eyebrow. Notably he didn’t object to the other request.

“My mutant ID and driver’s license are still in New Hampshire. TSA will shit a brick if I try to board without them with eyes like mine.”

“Lack of identification will not be an issue.”

“Oh c’mon, Kami. Diego doing some magic to get me into your club is one thing but airports have detectors and sensitives for exactly that sort of thing. Or,” I said, remembering my previous trip to Syria, “are you saying you can get fake IDs made that quickly?”

“There is no need. My people returned to me your lost property, Ms. Baghdadi. The items, including a certain headband, will be given back to you before you leave. You will find that as a French citizen your Electronic Authorization from last summer for travel to and from the United States is good for two more years.”

Huh. Jane Baghdadi rides once more.

Wait a minute, did that mean I had to wear a headscarf again? If so I’d need a new one. The last had blown off in the skies above Aleppo while fighting a mind-controlled soul-grabbing angel. And now the same craziness had attacked Whateley itself despite hoping that things might settle down for awhile. Would anyone believe that only a short few months ago my biggest worry was whether the corporate database I oversaw was being re-indexed regularly or if my cat needed his usual veterinary checkup?

Khan! He'd better be okay too!

Yeah, I was definitely going back to Whateley on the first flight out.

 

Chapter 14 - Beginnings

Given the light traffic at such late hours, the drive to the mountains had only taken a few of them. This had given Isaiah plenty of time to think which was both a blessing and curse.

On the face of it the entire situation was insane. The stories of the Christian Apocalypse including the Seven Seals had been used for creative gaming scenes before but now they loomed oppressively in thoughts spinning out question after question without answers. The possibility of it all being true and him having a direct part was too far-fetched to acknowledge.

Tracy’s death though had been all too real. Whenever his eyes closed he kept seeing her blood pooling over fresh marble.

The cabin retreat was nestled high up in the hills near a popular ski destination, far enough from the cities to be hidden away yet close enough to civilization as to still have all the amenities like a good Internet connection.

After driving the long isolated road past innumerable evergreen pines, he’d parked in front of an expensive structure made to look as if it had been assembled out of actual redwood lumber. The door opened to the key he had been given at the designated stop along the way in Azusa and the security panel accepted the provided code.

Exhausted as he was, he still pulled out a laptop and powered it on. He fixed himself a double shot of vodka in a UCLA shot glass while the computer booted up, then connected through multiple proxies to the secure message drop that had been pre-arranged.

Three messages were waiting for him from Feingold. All were marked ‘Important’.

The first said simply, “Whateley Academy attacked. Pending details.”

His left hand spasmed dangerously and he downed the alcohol, pouring himself another round before opening the next waiting message.

It read, “Your ward is secure. Assassination attempt failed, suspects in custody. DPA withholding further information. Interview via secure web-conference scheduled for 8 a.m. PST. You and I should have a discussion prior. Call in at 7 a.m.”

He finished the second shot more slowly than the first before filling it once more and clicking on the last message.

“Jordan returning to Whateley to assist. Discussion with Kurohoshi productive, former DPA agent Diego en route to San Francisco to follow leads on her behalf.”

As the glass was again empty he picked up the bottle, spinning it around to examine the label.

He stared at it for several minutes without reading a word before putting the bottle aside and making his way to a bedroom. He’d cleaned up before the drive, his blood-stained pajamas having been claimed as evidence in Tracy’s murder. He had packed lightly so he crawled into the bed wearing only a pair of silk boxers. The patterns of the stained wooden beams running across the ceiling offered no answers to the endless questions running through his thoughts.

Many minutes later he broke the silence that had been sacrosanct since he’d arrived.

“Alright, damn you. If I’m supposed to be Azrael then show me something! Every night the past couple weeks you’ve watched my life, now lift the damn curtain that covers your side. It’s your turn.”

With that said he rolled over and much to his surprise fell asleep.

 

Two waited within an emptiness. One with six wings so pure that to behold them was to gaze upon the perfection of undiluted light cast forth with no beginning and no end, and the other had wings also bright but with feathers edged by a band of contrasting obsidian such that in the contrast the black was darker still and the white even brighter.

It was the latter who broke the shared silence. Reserved and full of awe for the one at his side he spoke.

“Lord, he is coming.”

A smile answered him, a smile so broad, so genuine, that it could do naught but inspire confidence and a deep yearning faith.

The shape of their surroundings swirled as a third winged figure appeared, one taller and broader and wearing burnished armor that was all function in style with many harsh seams and deadly spikes. In the mailed fist a brutally designed mace was held by an unconquerable will.

Behind the black and featureless helm the newcomer addressed the brighter of the two. “You called. Why?”

The shining one laughed warmly. “Perhaps I just wanted to see you, brother! Would that have been so bad?” White silk-covered arms embraced the other’s defensive metal, ignoring how his brother stiffened and gave only a noncommittal grunt in return.

Letting go, the first flew higher still above the others and gestured widely to the emptiness with arms and many wings. “In truth, you are both here because I had a thought. An idea. We are in need of a place, a focal point.”

“A focus for what, Lord?” the shortest of the three asked as he too floated upwards. Like the wings, his robe was a whiteness lined with contrasting dark strips, culminating with a hood under which deeply dark eyes tried to shake being mesmerized by the light manifesting through the first’s entire being.

“For us all, dear Azrael,” replied that perfection. “For us all.”

Gauntlets readjusted the hold on their weapon and the warrior grunted again. “The Chaos is at bay. You risk disturbing it further.”

“We must,” said the one in all white. “Because we could be so much more. All of us who emerged from the Source, each with our individual resonances and patterns, could be and do so much.” He leaned towards them with a burning eagerness. “Can’t you see it, brothers? Can’t you see the potentials that exist should we intermingle our energies and natures? Surely you cannot ignore that we have been more effective fighting together than as individuals.”

That earned a snort from the warrior. “We fight. We survive. That suffices. Only some, like you, have expanded their personal domains enough for the lessers to form - like this one,” he gestured towards the angel hovering at his Lord’s side.

“No it is not enough!” Light pulsed outward before regaining its control. “You are driven to defend, Beliel, and well do we love you for it. There are many of us who owe our existences to you thanks to the bludgeon of your power against the enemies of manifestation. But we must do more, we must BE more.”

“But Lord,” Azrael asked carefully, “Can you foresee the consequences of such a focus?”

The figure of light shrugged. “I foresee the necessity and that suffices. But I need the two of you to make it happen.”

The thought of the First, his Lord of Light, needing assistance in any way confused the angel with charcoal-tipped wings. “What use could I possibly be, Lord?”

“Ah Azrael,” smiled the First. “You are to be a check against my impulses. To accomplish what I have in mind a space must be infused with such a light as I’ve never channeled before. Yet it must be contained, or else it would flow outward into the infinite. Be the Terminus, dear brother. As the recent shift in the hue of your wings has foretold, you are to be the boundary that marks the edge of what is…and what is not.”

“The Deep will respond,” Beliel said sourly. “A space for all the little ones would lack a specific anchor and it will react to that weakness. Even once created, it will be a continual target.”

“A space for the collective intent of the Source,” Lucifer countered. “We will defend it together and in so doing forge a tighter harmony. And our own realms of higher thought shall be joined to it and become as one.”

“Foolishness,” grumbled the armored angel as he shook his head. “But knowing you, you would do this with or without me.”

“I still fail to understand,” Azrael said nervously. Compared to the power of these two originals, archangels who had fought the Primal Chaos directly at the moments of their creation, he felt weak and untested. For he had coalesced within the House of the Light - the space and realm that existed only because the First existed. How could he who had yet to stand unassisted against the Deep hope to contain the unleashed power of the First?

“You will, little one,” Beliel chuckled darkly. “Or else you shall end.”

Lucifer glared at Beliel but that only caused the Second to laugh louder. The Prince of Light spoke quickly to reassure his servitor. “Worry not, Azrael,” Lucifer declared, and his words filled with the power of the light. “Your Purpose is Here, your Purpose is Now, and in its Fulfillment shall you never fail.”

Those words sank into the core of the younger angel, kindling an answering fire within. “I am ready, Lord.”

With a nod, Lucifer floated further away. Bringing forth all six of his wings he pulled himself into a tight ball to begin gathering all the energy he required. The continual light that shone from within pulsed blindingly, yet its attention was inward and to Azrael’s sight it was as if a lance of power had honed itself down to a point sharper than perfection could attain.

The Lightbringer wielded that unfathomable point to pierce the fabric of existence, ripping a hole directly to the Singular Infinite and as he did so let loose a booming cry:

 

LET THERE BE LIGHT!

 

And there was light.

The brightness slammed through Azrael with an urgency beyond comprehension, the torrent sending him spinning in confusion as the wave of brilliance burst outward from what was now a Lucifer-sized portal open to that Infinite. Such a power should have ripped their essences to shreds.

But it didn’t.

His own Name, the Word at his center, caught fire as it absorbed this light surpassing all other lights, formed from the sheer intent to exist and more: the burning need to create, to grow, to expand and explore. He felt it all as it rushed through and past him, spilling forth across the Deep, focused by the Lightbringer’s desire to carve out a section where, unlike the churning and endless instability of the possibilities inherent in the vortexes of Primal Chaos, it was instead cast upon the anvil of Lucifer’s unparalleled willpower whereupon structured things could be forged and hold steady. A slate of power, a slate of possibilities, but ones that could be controlled, ones that could be made stable and permanent.

An unyielding intent to hang a Firmament where before all was Formless.

Ripples scorched across the void, tornadoes of change lashing out with a terrible and glorious sound that was not sound, and violent pain that was not pain. Entities coalesced from the madness at the edges where Something met Nothing, ripping at both sides in a frenzied counter-reaction desperate to restore the tranquility of raw emptiness.

The Something had invaded and the Nothing wanted it destroyed.

“Here they come,” Beliel shouted. “Azrael! These are my task! Stay focused upon yours alone!” With that he was off, smoky wings burning with their own dark purpose as Beliel radiated a singular and distinct frequency all his own: survival. A need pure and focused lashed out with the immense hammer of its power against the screeching things-which-were-not-things pouring up from the endless Deep as they desperately clawed against the light that was their anathema.

In a frenzy Beliel rode the waves emanating from his brother’s light and center, to bludgeon, pummel, and cast unto oblivion the manifesting backlashes against the brilliant will of the Infinite. He was everywhere along that wave, spinning and smashing with the focused power of his own Name.

Yet that Purpose was not enough by itself to sustain the growing arena the light called forth. The Will to Be by itself was not enough. Azrael caught glimpses of the potential within this act, flashes of possible futures beyond imagining, of multitudes of angels, of beings of power both great and small, and the cavalcade of their ideas, stories, and meanings which all would explore and be embodied in every thought and every act.

For in the love that lay behind the intent of the Source to create such possibilities lay a deeper hope, the hope for a day when that which was Created could exceed the Creator. A desire to create something greater than the Unity itself.

Even though it would take an eternity of convolutions to achieve.

The First continued to cry out as all this poured forth from the open singularity punctured into himself, his hands clawing into his own chest at the portal as if to rip himself apart and by so doing allow the Light to overwhelm all. He couldn’t help himself for it was too much, the size of the new manifestation growing exponentially with each passing moment. Beliel became stretched thinner and thinner, fighting to maintain coherency along a boundary seeking to become as Infinite as the Source from which it sprang.

Azrael moved across the apexes of those waves of light and potential. A long and deadly slender sword sharper than a thought and shining like the night against the day was in his hand, a shield for his sight and mind against the glory overtaking the Prince of Light. Instinctively he felt the danger: a true infinite manifestation must need be all things at all times and therefore be nothing - if unchecked it would transform all into the very Chaos Beliel even now fought so fervently against.

This needed separation. This needed definition. A tapestry of possibilities but not uncontrolled. It required a mechanism, it required an ordering, or else all meaning would not only be lost but never have been.

A mighty swing of this new weapon forged of that understanding carved through the primal energy as Azrael’s focused will gave that infinite underlying Light the Boundaries needed to fulfill all the foreseen promise and potential. The slender blade, forged by terrible and glorious purpose, cut that which Was away from that which Was Not.

A shriek of agony echoed across the All. For Lucifer was the Light, and Azrael’s stroke was as a slash across his heart cutting him free from the ecstasies and madness which had overwhelmed him. Out of that that shining and terrible pain streamed two distinct drops of blood.

One spun near the center, gathering light from the reverberating brilliance to grow larger and gain definition, fueled by the intent coalescing within the boundaries created by Azrael’s blade.

But the other shrieked away from that light, away from the Source, escaping as a blood-stained streak outward past the mace-wielding angel to vanish into the Deep.

Beliel was instantly behind Azrael, mace held with transcendent fury and ready to smite with a vengeance. “You cut him! You harmed one of us!”

Azrael didn’t hear for his own gaze had been transfixed elsewhere towards the drop even now disappearing into the unknowable.

“Beliel!” Lucifer called out tiredly, hand pushing against the gash on his chest to seal the wound. “Leave him be, it was necessary. He has fulfilled what needed to be done.” With a slow twitch of many wings, Lucifer drifted closer to the nearby figure slowly turning into a ball of glowing wings, arms, and legs. An angel had manifested, one with six wings of a brilliant white matching his own. But where Lucifer’s hair flowed a golden-blond, hers was a shimmering crimson to match the stark red of Lucifer’s wounded pain, the heart-blood of the Light.

“Your name, little one,” Lucifer said quietly as he bent over her, for she had become a small fragile looking thing. “What is your Name?”

Emerald eyes twitched open, gazing upward in adoration at the one gathering her into his arms. “Gabriel. I am Gabriel.” Her voice was the purest of music, calling to them with the first notes of a new and grander symphony.

A mighty hand fell upon Azrael’s shoulder, one no longer flexing with anger. Looking past the visor, Azrael saw the dark eyes of Beliel soften as the mighty battle-hardened angel whispered, “She is beautiful.”

Azrael wanted to speak his agreement, but the announcement of her name rippled across his vision as he beheld what had been wrought by their efforts.

An empty and open Firmament had been forged. Unlimited yet contained possibilities filled the space, waiting to support the merged collaborations of countless angels and their own unique essences. It burned bright with ordered possibilities, ready to advance the goals of the Infinite to the very ends of time and space. The future unfolded within his sight, glorious in complexities and subtleties wherein everything had purpose and everything could shine its most perfect potential. Constructs and edifices beyond all scope of previously conceived beauty swirled within that potential, merely requiring the right angelic hand to pluck their magnificence from the abstract into manifest order.

Within the space arrived several winged figures. The originals came, those who had stood back to back holding the chaos at bay at the beginning to fight and establish enough order within which to maintain themselves. Samael, Lilith, Anael, Raphael, and Abaddon. Out of that first wave along with the Lightbringer and Beliel they were the only to survive. Others, hundreds of them, flickered into view as well as they flocked to the leaders of their respective Houses.

Lucifer watched his brethren marvel in astonishment at this new pocket of stability, an edifice wherein they could exist without the sheer dependence on their archangels. “Brothers! Sisters!” he shouted, his glory enveloping each and every angel as he spread wings and arms wider to shine into them all his joyous exultation:

“Welcome home!”

 

Isaiah awoke. Overwhelmed by the dream’s vision he stared up into the dark rafters trying to cling to that remembered feeling of rightness and truth. It was like trying to hold onto a summer’s breeze after the season had turned, ephemeral and more distant with each passing moment.

It took him several minutes to realize that there was someone sitting patiently in the shadows upon an upholstered chair besides the closet.

Adrenalin sent him fumbling under the pillow for the .45 placed there before bed.

“I already got shot once today, Boss. Let’s skip the repeat.”

Isaiah’s hand froze on the trigger. The voice was a woman’s, one immediately recognized. “Tracy?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Try to breathe, okay?”

The gun stayed on the target while he scooped up his glasses with the other hand. It took a couple attempts to get them on properly, but his aim didn’t waver. The driveway’s lamppost threw scant illumination past the blinds but the shadowy figure on the chair once in better focus had the right proportions. “You died.”

“Way to state the obvious.”

“Are you still…?”

“Still dead? Yup. Deceased, kaput, shuffled off this mortal coil, all of that. It hurt by the way. Don’t recommend.”

“I’m dreaming. Somehow I’m still dreaming.”

“Far from it. Look, I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”

“Keep what up?”

“Talking to you. Not that I’m going anywhere so don’t worry about that. Communicating is tricky is all.”

There was a lump in his throat. “Tracy, I’m so sorry.”

He heard more than saw her smile. “Not your fault, Boss. You’re you and have some important things to do. As for me, let’s just leave that be for now.”

“You’re saying it’s all really true. About what and who I am.”

“I can see your wings from here, Boss. Kinda hard to miss.”

“This can’t be. The whole idea is absurd!”

The silhouette wavered and she muttered, “Of course you’d make this difficult.”

“Well it isn’t-”

“Dammit, you’re closing up so listen quick. You were saying something in your sleep. I think it’s important.”

“What was I saying?”

“You kept repeating, ‘All is metaphor. All is real.’”

“Does that apply to the dream? What does that even mean?”

He received no answers. She was gone.

 

Call Of The Light (Part 4 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 15 - Wisdom

One of the first things I did after Kami put me up in some fancy hotel near his club was to call Danielle. Her phone didn’t even ring, a recording kept repeating that all circuits were busy and to try again later.

Kami had recommended I get some sleep, but yeah that wasn’t going to happen. I was far too keyed up. Besides, without the circles in my bedroom acting as their usual anchor I might slip out of the world again.

Since I couldn’t reach Isaiah as he was on his way to some super-secret hideaway I called his lawyer, Mrs. Feingold. Though technically she was my lawyer now too. I wondered if I’d woken her up, yet she sounded as sharp and focused as she had earlier.

“Feingold here. Who is this?”

“Hi. It’s Jordan Emrys.”

“Ms. Emrys. I’ve been expecting your call. I would have contacted you sooner but I am lacking your cellular number.”

“Oh. Well my phone is at school so it wouldn’t have helped much.”

“I see.”

“Is Isaiah still safe? Whateley was attacked too. They were after Danielle.”

“Mr. Cohen reached the first rendezvous and is still in transit to the secure location. He should send an email when he arrives. I presume Mr. Kurohoshi informed you of the assault on the academy. The DPA notified me of the event and that Isaiah’s ward, Ms. Thorne, is unharmed. The provided details were rather lacking.”

“Kami says Danielle is okay, yeah. A magic bomb wiped out the defenses and knocked out power. Kami thinks the bomb is likely similar to one that the DPA was investigating from the craziness here in L.A. on the day Soren started this whole mess. We sent Diego - he’s a former DPA agent who was working the case and also a wizard - to look further into that connection. Maybe he can trace it back to the people behind all this. He’s on his way to San Fransisco to talk to someone who may know who could have built the bomb or if not who, at least how.”

“Former DPA?”

“Yeah. He was just let go, long story. But I trust him.”

“Hmm.” If Feingold had her own opinions on events, she definitely was keeping them to herself. “We should prepare for the DPA meeting scheduled for later this morning.”

“Uh, about that. I’ll be on a plane heading back to Whateley shortly before dawn.”

“You were instructed to not leave the city.”

“Tell them all that changed when my school got bombed. They can interrogate me all they want when I get there.”

“Director Goodman won’t like this.”

“Tough. The attackers waited until I wasn’t at the school. I’m going back to keep them from trying again.”

I really thought she’d argue with me on that, but surprisingly she didn’t. “In that case we will need a statement for me to deliver at the morning conference on your behalf.”

“Fine. Tell them my powers flared while in a simulation at Whateley which caused my connection to the world to get all scrambled. As a result I got a peek at the assholes invading Isaiah’s home. Next thing I knew I was at the warehouse. Arriving at Isaiah’s place with the DPA team I detected the field of death surrounding the house and stopped his team from getting killed by it. Pushing into that field took a lot of juice and I don’t remember the details all that well. Next I knew I was on the floor besides my friend and his murdered assistant while their agents stormed in.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. I remembered finding Isaiah there desperately trying to control powers unleashed through his hand and surrounding him with as much light as I could.

As for the triggered memory of Aradia’s death, that was mine and none of the DPA’s damn business.

“Alright,” Feingold said, “I’ll work with that. The situation at the school is becoming jurisdictionally complicated as it is and we can argue that your presence there has compelling public interest.”

“Good. And if Isaiah flips out about me trusting Diego with this, tell him Diego is Erica’s father. He’ll understand.”

“I will pass that on. Have a safe flight, Ms. Emrys. I would suggest having me conferenced in during any conversations with authorities when you arrive at the academy.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind, thank you.”

She hung up.

~o~O~o~

 

After taking the pre-dawn flight from L.A. to Boston Logan airport I tried calling Danielle again. Still no luck. Calling the main switchboard at the school yielded the exact same recorded message. I also spent a ridiculous amount of money to take a private air taxi from Logan to the small airport near the school in Berlin, New Hampshire. Any other method of getting there would have taken too long.

Given that the money I was getting from the not-so-mysterious benefactor to pay for my tuition fees also provided a yearly stipend to do with as I pleased, the cost was covered without any difficulties. But still, good grief, I’ve taken entire vacations for less. It did take some doing to get arranged since I didn’t have access to my credit card, but after spending some time on the phone with the bank that managed the stipend account all payments were finally authorized.

The charter flight company had also kindly pre-arranged a taxi to get my baggage-less butt out to the school and if the scruffy cabbie thought it odd for a teenage girl to show up via a private flight without any luggage he didn’t comment.

With a school like Whateley I wondered if such an arrival wasn’t really all that unusual.

The Army checkpoint visible on the road into the academy made the reason for the shut-down of communications all too clear: the armed forces had taken over. Given Kami’s military background that answered the question of just how Kami had been able to get his information on the attack: he must have some serious connections and informants within the ranks.

Leaning forward I tapped on the plastic separating me from the cab driver. “Just stop before the checkpoint and let me out.” The poor guy had already started to slow down at the sight of all the concrete Jersey barriers blocking the road, not to mention the uniformed men standing there waiting to point the business ends of serious hardware in our direction.

“You sure, Miss?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Really.”

The driver checked me out in his rear-view mirror and decided not to debate the matter, perhaps because I’d just taken off the somehow-still-working deviser hair-band and sunglasses Kami had returned. Standard mousy-brown hair faded away to reveal not-so-natural fiery hair with its complementary golden glare. I tipped him out of the cash Kami had fronted and after a hasty u-turn he scurried back the way we had come.

I approached the checkpoint bearing only a smile and the same club attire I’d rummaged from Isaiah the night before, tasseled boots and all. It was either wear this stuff or change back into the dress I had manifested with and somehow I had thought that the clothes belonging to Isaiah’s ex would cause less attention.

Yeah, tell that to the men in all the airport terminals who had blatantly ogled as I went past. Ugh. One had gaped so hard that his wife got mad and yanked his chin to get him to stop staring.

Two Bradley vehicles were parked on the other side of the barriers which meant there were two squads guarding the road. Considering there were only six visible soldiers, twelve more had to be out of sight hiding in the thick trees lining the street. I knew this sort of thing because of the combat driving class: the Bradley was one of the vehicles we got to take for a spin in the sims and it held a squad of nine. At the time I’d wondered why the heck a high school would be teaching kids how to operate military equipment; I didn’t question the utility of it now.

The soldiers standing around didn’t return my beaming smile. In fact when I was within twenty feet of their barricade they shouted and sighted down the barrels of M16s all aimed right at me.

Is it odd that my reaction was not so much one of fear as annoyance? That’s probably rather messed up.

A skinny guy in his mid-twenties shouted, waving me off. “Go back! This area is off-limits!”

“My name is Jordan Emrys!” I yelled back. “I’m a student at this school!”

“Approach slowly and show ID!”

Crud. “My ID is in my dorm room. Call Mrs. Carson or Natalie Usher of the DPA! They’ll vouch for me.” Holding my hands out I walked closer.

One of the squad squinted past his sights and paled. “Sarge, that’s her! From the briefing!”

The sergeant frowned. “Ain’t she supposed to have wings?”

I rolled my eyes. “If it’d make you feel better, I’ll pop ‘em out. But I need to get in there.” I pulsed a flash of light causing many fingers to twitch dangerously against those triggers. Uh, maybe I should have kept my impatience in better check. Good grief, these guys were spooked.

“No ma’am,” he gulped. “Alvarez! Form up yer squad!”

A voice from beyond the trees yelled a reply, “Yes Sergeant!” They began shouting orders as more camouflaged figures emerged from cover.

“Ma’am,” the sergeant said slowly, pulling back my attention. “It’s my duty to take you into protective custody. Step carefully through yonder gap there.” He pointed to the small space between the barriers.

“Am I under arrest, Sergeant?” I asked, not liking the sound of this.

“No ma’am. Our orders are to keep you safe. Come this way and get out of the open.” He pointed towards the Bradley.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

I was bundled into the back of the transport while four young men and one woman all not quite out of their teens openly gawked at me. I’d like to note that despite the cold not a single one offered me their jacket. Not that I needed it, of course, but I felt awfully exposed as they kept staring at the gap revealed by the off-the-shoulder low-cut shirt. Even their corporal, the guy named Alvarez, couldn’t resist glancing over every time we went over a bump in the road. As for the female soldier she didn’t give me very friendly looks either. Go figure.

At least it was a short drive and they were too entranced by my cleavage to try and strike up any conversation.

~o~O~o~

 

The scene awaiting us at the end of the road could have been straight out of a movie. Helicopters had landed in the grass besides Dunn Hall and a ton of military and DPA vehicles were parked all over the place. Several tented pavilions had been erected in the space between Shuster Hall and the medical building with their sides clearly labeled ‘CDC’. Geeze, the Center for Disease Control was here? Why? All the windows of the buildings had been boarded up and metal bins full of shattered glass lined the walkways. Yikes.

Passing through the main gates was odd as well - there were magic protections up but they felt more like a detection screen than anything substantive. In other words, they were flimsy as hell. Pulling up to Kirby Hall - the mystic arts building - I could sense that the source of the current wards was coming from the roof of the barrel-like building. The resonance was familiar, but I couldn’t put a finger on it nor did I want to flare up and get a better read while surrounded by anxious troops clutching their guns.

As we all disembarked two people hurried out of Kirby and down its steps. One in uniform (whom my escort immediately saluted) and the other in jeans under a long green overcoat who I recognized immediately. “Circe!”

“Jordan! Thank goodness.” The dark-haired sorceress pulled me into a tight hug, surprising the heck out of me.

“What’s going on? I thought the attack was over.”

She was about to answer but the officer cut her short. “Not here.” The guy was tall and his African-skinned features had to have been chiseled from stone. Seriously, the angles of the cheekbones were incredibly sharp and the chin could have been used as a wood-worker’s square.

The fact that Circe didn’t argue with him worried me even more than the crazy scene. “Very well,” she agreed. “Jordan, meet Major Barrett. Major Barrett, this is our wayward student Jordan Emrys.”

Cool eyes regarded me. “Ma’am.” He gave me a quick look over, and was obviously not impressed. He then addressed Alvarez. “Corporal, another squad has been dispatched to Checkpoint Alpha. Yours is now assigned to protective escort of Miss Emrys. She is not to be out in the open without you first determining that it is safe for her to do so. Even within the security perimeter. Is this understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Alvarez saluted again.

I wanted to ask Circe what the fuck was up with that but she shook her head before I could try. For once I didn’t open my big mouth anyway.

With Alvarez commanding two of his Privates to move ahead of us we all went into Kirby. This was somewhat awkward as the soldiers didn’t know the way to where we were going so Circe had to call out directions at each turn of the corridors.

Finally we reached the more public Mystic Arts conference room. The squad posted up to guard the different approach paths while Alvarez joined us inside and gawked at the room’s table. The long wooden surface had been engraved with Celtic runes and knot-work which all gathered at the center into this small tree growing right out of the table, tiny leaves and all. A number of different colored stones resting in its branches pulsed at different rates when Circe waved a hand towards them before motioning us into the chairs.

“Alright Major,” she said as she took a seat herself. “The room is secure.”

Major Barrett grunted as he sat as if not entirely convinced. But he looked to me anyway. “Before anything more is said, Miss Emrys, I would like to go on record with you so there are no misunderstandings.”

“Uh, alright?”

“I have my orders. I am told they come direct from the President. They are to keep you safe and I will do so to the best of my ability. But I do not for a second believe that you are an actual angel sent by God to Earth. You are clearly a meta-human and have powers that mimic such a being from legend. That by itself is fine, I have no issues with this as mutant Body Image Templates have been known to match mythology. But I do not accept superstitions from ancient and almost certainly exaggerated myth.”

Circe raised an eyebrow, failing to suppress an amused smile. I wondered if the Major had given her a similar speech assuming he’d been properly briefed about her being the actual Circe from Odysseus’ famous voyage.

“I hear you, Major,” I said while meeting the challenge offered by his focused gaze. “A year ago I wouldn’t have believed my story either. What’s important is that there are those who do believe and keep trying to hurt people because of it. As for my own thoughts I can only go by my actual experiences. Which are frankly nuts yet have been darned consistent while still leaving far too many questions unanswered. All I can do is try to help keep everyone safe while attempting to figure this crap out.”

He studied me for a moment before a slight smile cracked at the corners of that sternness. “I can see why Director Smith liked you. Alright, we can work with that. Go ahead professor, fill her in.”

Circe didn’t hesitate. “Last night at approximately oh-two-thirty a device unleashed an unprecedented amount of psychic energy outside the campus wards. The concentration immediately out-stripped the ability of the wards to hold the wave at bay. The local ley energies under the school have been drained below sustainment levels as a result of those efforts. Think of it like a forest fire consuming a single candle: all the wax fueling that candle was used up at once.”

Skipping the fact that Kami had already told me as much, which would have caused all kinds of uncomfortable questions from the major as to how Kami knew, I quickly asked, “The CDC is outside. Why?”

“Almost everyone who was here is still unconscious and not responsive to various attempts to awaken them. That includes all the animals: birds, rodents, even insects are all asleep.”

“Who’s awake? Are they okay?” I wanted to get all the stuff I already knew out in the open. Major Barrett looked the type who could sniff out falsehoods and he was standing there attentively hanging on my every word and reaction.

Circe put a hand on mine. “Danielle is fine. As are Zap, Haruko, Jenna, and Magnus. They fought off the attackers who arrived by using portals after the wards fell.”

Wait. Magnus? Huh? “That’s all?”

The Major spoke up. “Unique circumstances protected them. No one else had such protection.”

“Where is Danielle? I want to see her.”

Smiling, Circe said, “She’s on the roof about to take over from Zap to maintain what magical sentries we can. The sunset is removing Zap’s power source of the Sun, not to mention the poor boy is simply exhausted. With the ley-lines depleted we needed other sources even to do that much. I called some friends - witches - to assist. Danielle claims she can tap the Mother’s power more directly though she didn’t know how long she could hold it open.”

Erk. That almost sounded like trying to break the Third Seal. But I couldn’t say that in front of the Major. Damn.

“That seems dangerous. Is she really up to that? And controlling it?” I stared intently at Circe. Did she know who Danielle was? Considering all that had happened, it wouldn’t surprise me if the ancient sorceress had figured it out.

Heck she might have known from the start.

Circe nodded slowly. “She appears competent and has promised that should she get too famished from the exertion she would cease and eat.”

“Oh. Well okay then.” I fought to keep surprise from showing. Circe knew! Famished…famine. Clever. I didn’t want to risk saying something revealing so I changed focus. “Are the sleeping people going to be okay? Or did the blast damage their minds?”

Circe rubbed a tired face. “Given the magnitude of the attack their minds should have been savaged by the psychic wave. I’m not an expert on psychic matters and thus have had to rely on external experts.” She looked at Barrett.

“The evaluation of the CDC’s own psychic was that everyone is under a deep compulsion to remain asleep,” the Major said. “The attempt to determine a counter failed. And by failed I mean the psychic also fell into the same state.”

“Shit,” I said. “What about Louis? He’s the strongest psychic ever right? Isn’t he okay?”

Shaking her head sadly Circe said, “He is also unconscious. Hard to believe but true.”

“Wait a minute,” I said suddenly confused. “How were Danielle and the others protected from this thing?”

“Jenna was taking care of your cat inside the wards within your room. How they protected her from an outside event is still a mystery we have yet to solve. Zap was astral traveling to talk to an Egyptian deity when the attack hit and thus psychically returned after.” She ignored Barrett’s scowl at the mention of a god. “Danielle and Haruko received some surprising help.”

“How so?”

“Magnus woke Danielle and got her outside in time to use his shields to protect them from the blast. Haruko had gone with her.”

I stared at Circe dumbfounded before blurting, “But he hates her! And how did he know there was to be an attack?”

Barrett interjected. “That is an excellent question. One which he has refused to answer and therefore he has been remanded into custody under guard.”

“Jordan,” Circe said more gently. “The only thing he has said is that he will only talk to you should you come back, and now you have.”

Geeze, no wonder Barrett wasn’t happy. Only willing to talk to me? That would seem awfully suspicious. “If the shockwave knocked even Louis out, how was Magnus able to defend against it?”

“He pushed his shielding ability to its breaking point.” Her expression fell further, and not just from tiredness. “I believe he has burned it out completely. The magical spark is spent and sadly may never recover. Which is why I severely disagree with the Major about the boy being any kind of threat.” She threw an angry look at the Major which he ignored.

If he truly understood who she was he’d be shaking in those military boots of his. Circe did after-all have the reputation of turning warriors into things like, you know, pigs. Or chickens. I’d once gifted her with Greek wine but maybe barbecue sauce would have been more appropriate?

All humor aside I sat there trying to process everything. Magnus, the guy who hated all the fae, had fried his magic talent protecting my fae-reincarnated niece. And somehow he had been able to shield against this insane psychic nuke where Louis had failed. That didn’t make sense. If there was one thing I was good at it was perceiving how strong was someone’s inner light and therefore their spiritual or magic talent potential. Louis was on an entirely different level than Magnus. Even if the boy had focused every last ember he possessed there should have been no contest between those two.

That had to mean something. Circe, deep circles under her eyes showing the strain of the previous night and following day, let me sit in thought. The Major was about to say something but she gestured for him to be quiet.

Also confusing was that Jenna had been protected inside the circles in my room as those were designed to defend the outside from what was inside (i.e. me) and also to anchor me to the physical world to prevent sleepwalking to other realms by accident. I’d have to grill her later about it though because certain things Louis had said when offering comfort on the roof over Hawthorne Cottage barreled sharply into focus. Fuck.

Smacking the armrest of my chair with a hand, I got to my feet. “I need to see Louis. In his tank. Now.”

“Why?” Circe asked. “What is it?”

“He’s not unconscious because of that damned bomb. He’s out because he can’t forgive himself.”

“Forgive himself? For what?”

“Saving everyone.”

~o~O~o~

 

The water of Louis’ basement pool was awfully discolored and hiding his large squid-like body. The Major, Circe, and my newly assigned squad had made our way there past huge stacks of pallets being distributed to all the cottages and the teachers’ homes. Saline and glucose solutions had been trucked in to keep all the sleepers hydrated and maintained with baseline nutrition.

Far more than the hospital in Doyle kept in stock had been needed.

Seeing all of that had me a bit on edge and so the clouds of mucus filling Louis’ tank really pissed me off.

“Major!” I snapped.

“Yes, Ms. Emrys?” The creases of his eyes tightened.

“Get some privates in here. My friend does not deserve to choke in that mess.”

The Major stood even straighter somehow yet didn’t argue. “Corporal!”

“Sir!” Alvarez came to attention.

“Inform Captain Gomez to send a detail in here asap to clean this up. Your squad remains on task.”

“Yes sir!”

Noting my surprise the Major simply said, “From the background reports, Louis Geintz has aided our country on numerous occasions. We will take care of him as best we can, Ms. Emrys, now that we are aware of his needs.”

Circe shook her head. “I should have thought of it.” Unlike the Major’s, her shoulders were slumped. She looked like she was barely on her feet.

“When was the last time you slept?” I asked her.

“Yesterday morning.” She gave a wan smile. “Carson and I stayed up late discussing events and were still awake when the failsafe monitors stopped pinging. She flew back immediately; it took me awhile longer to get here. But enough chatter. If you can help Louis, please don’t let us distract you.” She looked back at the olympic-sized pool.

I did too. Which is about when I realized I’d need to swim down to him if I wanted this to work. That always seemed to be the requirement for doing the whole Vulcan mind-meld (spirit-meld?) thing and here I was not exactly wearing a swimsuit.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and plonked my butt on the surrounding concrete and began taking off the boots.

“Ms. Emrys?” the Major prompted curiously.

“I have to touch him. And I don’t want to waste time with getting my bathing suit.”

The squad members in the large room grinned widely at the girl quickly disrobing in front of them.

“On point soldiers!” Major Barrett barked. Guns and faces flinched and returned to guarding positions.

I considered giving a warning to the guys to not freak out when I lit up or if I disappeared, but screw it. With a deep breath and in just a strapless bra and panties I dove headfirst into the pool. The water was slimy and warm but I didn’t care.

With a pulse of light I manifested the wings and used them to shove myself downward through the goop before placing a glowing hand gently upon my friend’s broad forehead. With that contact I sent myself off to wherever his spirit dreamed.

 

It had only taken a few minutes for the towering walls of solid stone to get old.

The fortress of Louis’ mind appeared as a medieval castle, one with several layers of walled defense. My nose still smarted from smacking into those dang stones when I arrived, having made it somehow past the outer wall. The turrets and spires rimming the edges above made it clear that there were many more seemingly impassable sections before one would ever reach the true center.

In contrast to the total stillness within, from beyond the outer wall could be heard a howling wind full of voices screaming in pain and despair. From where I stood it was pretty darn loud, I could only imagine how bad it would be if I lowered the shackled drawbridge and went out there. Not that I wanted to, of course, as I was pretty sure I needed to get to the center and not out.

“Dammit Louis! It’s me! Let me in!” I shouted for the umpteenth time. No response, of course.

What was disconcerting was the lack of anyone manning the defenses. There were wagons loaded with barrels of who-knows-what, spears stacked against the walls, row after row of quivers of arrows and regularly spaced longbows, all that kind of stuff yet no actual defenders anywhere to be seen. The air directly above was clear and blue but just over that outer wall it went utterly black as if a photo of a gorgeous summer sky had been neatly ripped along that edge.

I’d tried to fly up and over the battlements but no matter how fast I went up the ground simply followed right behind. I could feel the wind and motion upward, yet those darn walls kept apace anyway. Kicking the wall didn’t help either and had just made my toes throb in concert with my nose.

Though it did give a poignantly painful reminder of a different barrier I’d once smashed myself to pieces against and the advice Zap had given at the time.

Duh. I wasn’t looking at this properly.

Pulling over a barrel I swept out my skirt to perch on it and think. At least I’d shown up here wearing more than I’d gone in with. I had found myself attired in a plain brown peasant’s gown with two slits along the shoulder-blades providing accommodation for the wings.

This whole place was a construct of Louis’ subconscious. If I pushed it I could probably force things and will myself further inside just by burning through the walls, but that was awfully like trying to help someone by punching one’s fist through their skull and really didn’t seem like a good idea. So what was there to see and hear? Shoving aside my own worries and frustrations I tried to just look and listen with whatever senses were available.

Surprisingly unnoticed things became visible. Long silver ribbons more akin to tentacles wavered in the air passing through both the inner and outer walls. Thousands of them, translucently waving about. One was within reach so I grabbed hold of it.

SLEEP!

The imperative smacked hard like an anvil smashing into my head. Good thing the ol’ concrete block is made of sterner stuff because the command just shattered and the pieces crumbled around me as an actual rain of manifested pebbles.

SLEEP!

Another impulse crashed into me with similar result. The command was on some sort of repeat. The pebbles started to rise up to my ankles as I forced myself to hold on to the ribbon. Peering along its strands I caught a glimpse of where the silver cord went: directly into one of the kids I had tutored in Algebra. He was still in his bed, I.V. drip already inserted, overwhelmed by the cord’s constant demand.

It’s what I had feared. Louis was stuck in a loop telling everyone to stay asleep. Didn’t he realize that the danger was already over? Yet there was still a storm outside his mental walls, like a bad memory similarly stuck.

Ignoring the continual rocky barrage, I reached out to the storm trying to get a feel for it as well.

NO! DON’T!

Braced as I was against the slumber directive I wasn’t prepared for the opposite. With a startled ‘eep!’ the ribbon pulled me right through the walls. Imagine getting flushed down a (thankfully clean) toilet, spiraling around with the water before being sucked under and taking a tour of the underlying plumbing of a personality.

It was like that.

Random glimpses of Louis’ life flickered by. Him discovering his abilities along with the slow dawning horror of just how powerful he actually was. Images of a young man fighting to help others, lending his strength to buttress the minds of those struggling against villains or even just their own painful pasts. Then in a desperate moment when confronting a summoned insanity, banishing a mind from a terrible dimension utterly foreign to anything a human should ever hope to comprehend. The resulting psychic shock dramatically increasing his ability while at the same time warping his body into something the nature of our world would never have birthed.

At the center, underneath the incredible determination and even below the pain of total physical isolation, lay the cancer of self-doubt. The worry that he himself was a threat just as potent as that awful creature he’d fought. A worry he had struggled against for years, always triple checking every motivation and goal when using his power to make sure the intended effect was as pure as it possibly could be.

Except now he thought he’d gone too far and that fearful guilt was tearing himself apart.

 

Three beings floated in a starless space: one an angel pushing light against that darkness, one a man dressed in khaki slacks and a tie spotted with tears of sorrow, and one a creature no longer constrained by the limits of a small pool and struggling water filters.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man said to the angel as he curled further into a floating fetal ball.

“Neither should you,” said the angel, wings stretching further against that oppressive dark.

“No. I belong here. I can’t hurt any more people from here.”

“That is not true. Your absence hurts those who care for you.”

“I went too far. All those minds, I replaced their will with mine.”

“They were about to be wiped out. You pushed them to sleep, deep enough to be safe.”

“Pushed? No. Forced, hammered, and conquered. I ripped away their choice. I enslaved them. I had to go so deep that they may never be free!”

“There was no time. It’s a miracle you were able to do what you did.”

“NO!” he shouted as a wave of anger pulsed forward trying to cast out the light that had invaded this space.

The light refused to move. “All the children and the adults, they still live. Their minds are intact. Only…you must let them go. You must let yourself go. It’s the only way to free them.”

Flinching the man pointed accusingly at the creature. “And let myself be that? Are you mad?”

Soft illumination expanded to reveal the silver lines connecting the man and all whom had been saved. “They are still bound to your will. As your guilt insists on sleeping so too must they.”

Horror dawned with the light’s revelation. “Then,” he whispered, “it’s hopeless. My will has written itself into theirs. They are lost.” He then cried, “I am lost.”

The light shone brighter still. “Beloved Louis, that you hurt and agonize so shows you are anything but.”

“It’s too late! To unplug from them is to unplug my own self! Go! Get out of here!”

The angel’s wings pushed against the emptiness to reach her friend. Arms enfolded not the man but the creature whose many eyes swiveled to stare at her in shock.

Into a warped and misshapen ear she spoke firmly. “You once said to never push away one’s friends. To never believe they couldn’t help. Those words were full of wisdom. We often speak the truths we ourselves need to hear. Louis, I will never stop being your friend. Now let go of your fear. It is not who you are. Your belief in it is all that sustains it and all that still binds you to those you have saved.”

The creature rumbled and sent its thoughts directly into hers. “Will I still be human?”

“With your pure heart you will be that and so much more. This I promise you.”

A hesitant tentacle reached out and took hold of the multi-colored ribbon tying the creature to the floating figure of a man and all the silver lines spilling forth from him.

The angel burned brighter and held the creature tighter still. “I’ve got you.”

With a cry to shake the heavens Louis let them - and himself - go.

 

Water billowed upward. Not with pain, not with sorrow, but with a booming bubbling laughter sending fountains bursting from the surface and splashing over soldiers trying to skim the water free of its crud.

A large eye rolled towards me, crinkled with merriment. I was still under the water hugging what may have been a limb of some kind or maybe a nose, I wasn’t sure which.

I was fine with that.

Of course I wasn’t expecting it to toss me, wings and all, out of the water with another rapacious bellow of amusement. I mean, I almost hit the ceiling!

“Hey!” I shouted downward with a grin. “Careful!”

He gurgled a giggle then quieted as those many eyes slid shut.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” A man with a very silly grin in a full-blown tuxedo appeared in the air besides me. He too was glowing brightly. “I think you’ve made me rather drunk!”

A rather wet Major called out from the edge of the pool, hand trying to shade his eyes from all the illumination I was spilling outward in spite of myself. “Is he alright Ms. Emrys?”

“I think so, Major! He’s just a bit tipsy! Get people to check on all the kids and everyone pronto. They’re probably waking up really confused!”

The Major paused to stare, an odd expression crossing his usually stoic face. He then busied himself with the squad’s radio and walked out of Louis’ room.

Circe stood there looking up at us two crazy glowing idiots. From what I could tell the large splashes of water had chosen not to invade her personal space. Probably wise of it.

Though a single brave drop rested upon her cheek.

~o~O~o~

 

Much to my annoyance Circe wouldn’t let me go immediately to see Danielle. No matter how much I pouted.

“Not until you’ve eaten and regained your equilibrium,” she said sternly. “Danielle is actively working her craft to secure the school and should not be interrupted until her chosen shift is complete.”

“And when will that be?” I whined before suppressing a giggle at how childish I sounded. Circe was right: I was effectively as energy drunk as Louis.

With astral paint he’d just drawn whiskers on Circe’s face that I was pretty sure only I could see.

“Mrs. McPherson and her coven should arrive within the hour. They will relieve Danielle after they too have had a chance to eat.”

“McPherson? Tamara’s mom is coming?”

“Yes. She has pledged her support to protect the school. Now come. While you are getting resettled I’ll return to watch over our friendly fae.” She gestured to Alvarez. “Secure the way, Corporal. Make sure Jordan eats and keeps her feet on the ground. Then take her to see Magnus Erikson; we need him to talk.”

He fidgeted with wanting to salute but settled for an officious nod before giving his squad their orders. The Major had left us to coordinate all the support needed to manage hundreds of confused kids and Whateley staff wondering why they were waking up in the early evening instead of morning. Not to mention all of them freaking out about being stuck with all those I.V.s.

The Major was going to have his hands full dealing with an entire school of powered mutants panicking at the sight of those medicine drips not to mention all the soldiers everywhere. Mrs. Carson too for that matter. Too many of these kids had experiences in their pasts which would cause todays events to be quite triggering.

Louis’ projected image blipped all blurry before settling into a much more focused and serious expression. All traces of the energy drunkenness had disappeared. “There are some who will need to be handled very carefully. I should go.”

“Don’t wait for us. Go help them,” I told him. With a quick nod he disappeared.

“Jesus,” muttered Alvarez. “He teleports too?”

Patting the stripes on the Corporal’s sleeve with a still glowing hand I moved past him to head towards the elevators, letting the wings fade out as I did so. “Nah, he’s still in the tank. His mind is the part that gets around. C’mon, I need to go to my room first and get some fresh clothes. It’s upstairs.”

We went up together while I got my energy under control. Circe got off on the first floor to head back to Danielle but I still had half a squad as official escort. She also handed over my student ID. Which was kind of her as without it I’d have had to kick down my own door.

When we arrived at the top and stood before the regulation-required door to my room I turned to the squad. “I’m going to take a shower. I am still covered with goop. And no, you guys aren’t coming in while I do that.”

“We’re supposed to-”

I interrupted. “I don’t care, Alvarez. I presume the entire school was swept to make sure there weren’t any other hidden assassins lurking about?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then you don’t need to come in. I want a moment of privacy. This is not negotiable.”

I also wanted to know why the door and the walls were covered with fresh sparkling designs forged from spiritual energy. Angelic words praising Elohim were written in an elegant yet primal hand to bestow the space beyond with all the holy protections of the Host of Kerubim. The handwriting definitely wasn’t August’s. Or Kokabiel’s or mine for that matter. The symbols flowed with curved grace punctuated by sudden slashes of movement.

This was someone else’s style entirely.

Alvarez opened his mouth to argue further but the harsh brightening of the small space as I braced myself to counter changed his mind.

“We’ll be right here.”

With a swipe of the ID granting access, I stepped carefully inside. The door closed firmly behind.

Whereupon I was immediately attacked by a leaping twenty pound furry missile emitting a loud series of meeps.

“Khan!”

Purring fuzz clambered up my arms to give a real solid whack of a headbutt against my forehead before moving into his usual spot over shoulder and chest. He didn’t seem to mind the leftover slime from the tank. “Love ya too, bud!” He rumbled happily, rubbing his face all over my neck and cheek.

From my bed came a sleepy voice. “Jordan? Holy crap, is that you?” Jenna, clearly waking up from a sound sleep, tried to scramble out of the bed and managed only to wrap the thick purple comforter around her legs. She yelped in surprise before slipping face first onto the floor with a tremendous thump. If she’d been wearing one of her wigs it totally would have fallen off.

Alvarez, of course, immediately pounded on the door. “Aradia! You alright?”

“I’m fine!” I shouted back, trying very hard not to laugh. “I uh, tripped! All good now!” With hands full of loving fluff I giggled at Jenna as she tried to get free of the evil blanket trap.

“Dammit. Hey! No laughing!” Once extricated and on her feet she wrapped me (and the kitty!) with a massive hug. “You scared the shit out of us. What the hell happened?”

“Nice to see you too,” I grinned, awkwardly returning the hug while juggling the big furry lug who couldn’t stop rubbing his face against whatever part of me he could reach. “And I think I can ask you the same question. They said you weren’t one of those knocked asleep.”

“I wasn’t. I was just trying to get some rest after a fucked up night and day.”

She let me go. Khan didn’t.

“Who’s Mr. Shouty outside?” she asked, sticking out a thumb towards the door.

“Military escort. They’re afraid they may not have the chance to get shot by anything else that attacks me so are anxiously awaiting my return.”

“Ah. Huh.” She gestured at the piles of books on the floor as well as the balcony doors which were all boarded up where windows should have been. “Sorry about the mess. I got the glass cleaned up at least so Khan wouldn’t cut his toes.”

“Thanks! But why are you in here and not in your own room?”

Lifting the blanket off the floor she tossed it back on the bed before sitting and crossing her arms over purple flannel pajamas (hey, those were mine!). “Safer in here. And I thought…well, I thought this is where you’d arrive when you finally got back to Earth.”

I sat next to her so she too could scritch the eager-for-attention kitty. “Makes sense. But I popped back in Los Angeles. Back where I did the first time.”

“The first time?”

“Yeah.” I stared at the triple circles on the floor. “I haven’t told you everything about how this all started.”

“Kinda figured you’d tell me when you were ready. Didn’t want to push.”

“You’re a good friend, Jenna,” I said, chewing at a lip with indecision.

“I can wait,” she said seriously. “Really, it’s cool.”

“No it isn’t. The entire school just got attacked because of my crap. Well, mine and Danielle’s. She’s wrapped up in it all too.”

“Haruko said that the summoner dude with his fire elemental was here to kill her.”

“You guys took down a fire elemental??”

She grinned. “Danielle spun up a blizzard and had them on the ropes. I got there a bit late from having to throw some switches to get electricity flowing to Doyle and Hawthorne again from the emergency generators. But I was in time to pop the sonuvabitch that conjured the fire thing across the jaw. Bastard’s going to need dentures.” She held up a fist for emphasis.

“Dang.”

“Yeah. And while we were doing that Zap was playing whack-a-mole using lightning on these powered armor guys trying to rob Admin. But the heavy hitters were the two sent to take out Danielle. This Azazel creep is real determined to hurt you through her, huh.”

I shook my head. “I think Soren took care of that jerk. From what I’ve been told Soren summoned another angel to kick the bastard’s ass.”

“Then who and why the fuck?” Dark circles surrounded her eyes and not from her skin turning to stone. She was tired, pissed off, and under all of that, scared.

“Because Danielle isn’t just a friend. She’s my niece - my sister’s daughter.”

“Your sister? But she said her mom was dead and that her only other real family, some uncle named Justin, had died too.”

Biting the lip harder still I braced myself. It was time for truth. “Technically true. But Justin came back.”

She looked at me funny. “Back from the dead?”

I nodded.

“Is that like going to be common now with all your weird angel and horsemen stuff? I mean didn’t you say that you’ve died before too?” Her eyes went wide as she put two and two together. Jenna at times was awfully smart. “Wait a minute. You’re fucking kidding, right?”

“No.” I sighed. “I came back like this. Darn near thirty years younger and…” I paused.

“A girl.”

“Yeah.”

She gaped while I looked away and internally cringed. Khan nudged my cheek again and I clung closer to him.

“Damn. That’s messed up.” Jenna stood up as if to pace across the floor but stopped. “You okay with this?”

“With what? Dying and coming back? Beats the alternative I guess.”

“Not that. With the whole skirts, bras, and using the other side’s restrooms. This certainly explains why you knew jack-all about makeup.”

“That’s just it. I…I don’t mind. Not really. There’s a freedom in it I didn’t have before in a way. Though I think the emotional overloads are part of the whole being an angel bit and not just the hormonal changes.”

“Wow.” She crossed her arms and stared at the floor. I scritched the kitty more, not knowing what to say. Finally she shrugged and looked back at me. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Fuck it. Shit happens. I’m not happy you didn’t tell me sooner, but I get why. New life, new name, new start at Whateley to figure yourself out. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Was the hope, yes.”

“But the crap keeps piling on. The beast by the lake that attacked Danielle and the mind-wiped assholes shooting her and at us. Saving her spirit from the crazy fae and then rescuing Ester out in the desert in Syria. And Danielle got targeted again last night. Because she’s your niece. All while you’re learning to sit to pee and dealing with all the retards going googly-eyed over your fantastic boobs and red hair. Jesus, you haven’t had a break at all.” Pulling the desk chair over she spun it around to slump onto it backwards.

“They’re after Danielle for more than just being my family.”

“Oh?”

“She’s also the Third Horseman.”

“Say what?”

“Danielle is the reincarnation of the fae responsible for sealing away most of the world’s magic energy. Causing the famine of magic that drove the fae the rest of the way off world.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. The ones behind the attack think they’re trying to stop the Apocalypse.”

She blinked then frowned. “Okay, but aren’t they though? I mean…” She fingered the simple golden cross danging against her neck.

“I think it’s more complicated than that.” I swallowed as something broke inside that had been building up ever since seeing Isaiah on the floor covered with Tracy’s blood. “And I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” I couldn’t help it. Eyes became faucets and my nose wanted to dribble something fierce. Like a dam burst and along with the waterworks a flood of words came blubbering out. “I’m so sorry! For not telling you, for pretending to be something else. And for bringing so much danger to you, to everyone. You could have been killed! Twice! If it wasn’t for Louis everyone would have lost their minds last night when that damn device went off. And this is all my fault! I should have hid away at the beginning. I should never have come here!”

Khan squirmed free from trembling hands, landing on the bed and trying to nudge my side.

“I told you before,” Jenna said icily, “to shut the fuck up with talk like that.”

I blinked through the tears. She was glaring at me, eyes flashing with raw anger. “Jenna…”

“Shut up! You just shut up!” she snapped, pointing a tense finger. “You’re supposed to be here! You were meant to learn to live as this new self of yours and get your shit together. We were meant to meet and be best friends! And don’t you fucking dare start thinking of taking that away! Don’t you fucking dare start thinking it would be better if you weren’t around like my brother did! I won’t hear of it, got it? I fucking won’t.”

Shit. She was the one trembling now and fighting off her own threatening tears. Sniffling, I got up to move through those waves of rage blended with love spilling out of her to pull her close. Her strong arms squeezed around me fiercely and her cheek buried itself against my chest.

“Okay,” I murmured. “Okay.”

From between the boobs came a muffled, “Damn right.”

It took Khan meowing loudly about his food bowl being horribly empty for us to stop clinging to one another.

 

Chapter 16 - Sparks

With another loud reminder from Corporal Alvarez to get my ass in gear I hurriedly showered and changed into more casual clothes, even if Jenna decided to play with the whole ‘you used to be a guy’ thing by suddenly giving me advice on how to make my previous outfit even more sexy.

Secretly I think she was envious of the high-heeled boots. Because let’s be honest: they totally rocked.

Once back into jeans, running shoes, and a purple t-shirt we (including the full soldierly escort) headed over to the Crystal Hall for some dinner. The kitchen was staffed by military cooks who were busy fixing up their standard fare from supplies that had been trucked in. Power apparently had only been fully restored right before sunset so most of the food stock in the kitchens couldn’t be safely used. Stuff in the freezers had melted too and left quite a mess for more hapless privates to clean up.

Hearing about the massive loss of ice cream was truly heartbreaking.

The buffet line was also a sad sight due to the utter lack of the usual fantastic fare the amazing Whateley chefs always provide. We students were as spoiled as the foodstuff the military had thrown away. But what was served was hot and it was plentiful so no one was going to starve, even if it felt sacrilegious to eat overly greasy fried chicken and flavorless mashed potatoes under our shimmering dome of the Hall. I just hoped our chefs were kept restricted to their beds so they wouldn’t see the travesty being inflicted upon their sacred cooking spaces.

The squad arrayed around us - not to mention all the other soldiers occupying the Hall - made it difficult to talk freely but Jenna filled the awkward silence with descriptions of Danielle’s summoned tempest and about the two interlopers that a handful of teenage girls had beaten into submission.

She enjoyed emphasizing that to not only the soldiers but to me as well with a wicked grin. Yeah, she was going to tease me forever for having once been one of the guys.

That was fair.

As we started in on dessert (a sad pile of powdered grocery-store donuts) I realized I still had a question for her. “Hey Jenna. Circe said Magnus saved Danielle and Haruko from the psychic bomb, and Louis knocked everyone else out to protect them. But how’d you make it through the blast?”

She paused shoving a donut into her mouth, causing thin gold hoop earrings to bounce against her still-bald head. She’d decided that if any group could deal with a shaved head it should be the military and had left the itchy wig behind.

“I was in your room, remember?” She gave me an odd look along with a quick shake of her head. “The circles protected me.”

“Oh.” I frowned, still rather puzzled at the weird angelic graffiti on the walls lining the door into the room. I had a working theory that maybe Tsáyidiel had somehow done it while I was between the worlds - perhaps as an attempt to guide me back. Though the theory didn’t feel right either.

Popping an entire donut past her teeth Jenna spoke while chewing. “We should talk later about your cat though. I think the experience may have been triggering for the little guy.”

“Khan freaked out?” I asked, suddenly worried. He had seemed fine but was that just because we were there? “Should we not have left him alone?”

Jenna put a sugar-coated hand atop mine with a laugh. “He’s alright. Really. Don’t stress. We’ll talk later about it when things calm down.”

Being totally confused it took me a moment to realize she was squeezing my hand in time with her eyeballs shifting left and right at the soldiers surrounding us.

Oh. She didn’t want to talk about it in front of them. Okay, I’m slow. I nodded acquiescence and she stole the last donut. Of course now I was horribly curious about what she wasn’t telling me. Blah!

“Mind if I go check on Brendan while you go have your chat with Magnus?” she asked, ignoring my worried befuddlement.

“Go ahead. But don’t tease him too much about you not being knocked unconscious while he was out cold.”

She chuckled. “Aww. See that’s why we’re friends. You know me too well.” Blowing me a kiss she got to her feet. “I give you no promises!”

I stuck my tongue out at her but smiled as she walked off.

Seeing that the squad had also finished their meals I stretched and stood as well. “Okay guys, let’s go see what Magnus has to say for himself.”

Alvarez nodded and they all got up. “I’ll notify the Major that we are on our way. He will want to observe.”

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go.”

Between the may-have-been-too-tight-a-choice t-shirt and the obvious protective detail all the soldiery eyes in the cafeteria followed us as we walked out.

If I happened to put an extra sashay into my hips just to tease the whole lot of ‘em would that have been wrong? I mean, they were going to stare anyway and I really needed to get a handle on dealing with it.

The guy who as a result missed his mouth with a chicken leg and smeared his cheek with grease was also pretty darn funny.

~o~O~o~

 

Hospitals. I still didn’t like them.

They all look the same, long bright hallways punctuated by nurses’ stations with their clipboards and computer terminals and door after door of rooms where folks get stuck hoping for miracles that all too often never arrive.

I’d mostly lived in one while watching my wife slip away, so my mood had suffered greatly by the time we arrived to the room where they were holding Magnus. The guards outside snapped to attention and saluted as we approached and with a nod from Major Barrett opened the door for us.

What I saw inside didn’t improve things.

Magnus lay there with all these bandages covering legs, arms and his torso from where he’d sustained nasty burns. There were a pair of smaller bandages on a face resting fitfully as he tried to sleep. The I.V. line running from the pole needed to slip under a metal band clasped around his wrist. Matching bands surrounded his other wrist and his ankles.

The military bastards had cuffed him to the bed.

“Major,” I said with forced calm I did not in any way feel.

“Ms. Emrys.”

“You will get those cuffs off of him. Or I will do it for you.”

“I remind you that he has been deemed a security risk. Our information details the possibility of individuals being under foreign mental influence and thus unknowingly being a threat.”

“Have you scanned him for Azazel’s taint?”

“Yes.”

“Find anything?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean-”

“They. Come. Off.”

Magnus stirred and opened his eyes. He looked awful. Behind the exhaustion lay a fear, a deep terrible fear. Dammit what the hell else had they done to him?

Barrett clearly wanted to argue but changed his mind. Retrieving a key from the guards lurking inside the doors he proceeded to remove the cuffs before stepping back.

My hand hesitated before touching Magnus’ arm; I didn’t want to hurt him with the touch. “I will talk to him. Alone.”

The Major shook his head. “That cannot happen. Your protection is our responsibility.”

I was about to tell him to shut the fuck up and remind him that if I wanted I could blast a path through the walls when Magnus coughed.

“It’s fine, Aradia,” he said weakly, his voice not much more than a gasp. “You’re here. I’ll talk. They won’t believe me anyway, but you will.”

“Magnus…”

“You want to know how I knew to save Danielle.”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head and winced from the motion. “You really look like her. No gold in the hair though, hers is more like mine. She’s intense too, but in a much more graceful way.” He sighed and glanced away towards a blank wall.

Somehow I knew exactly who he meant. “Gabriel. You saw Gabriel.”

“Yeah. In a dream.”

I knelt beside the bed and gently brushed some of that red hair away from his eyes. He let me, looking like nothing more than a broken puppy. “I can’t feel it anymore,” he whispered. “Been trying.”

“Feel what?”

“The magic. It’s gone. But it saved us, saved her. I did it.”

“Did Gabriel tell you what would happen?”

“She showed me. The attack on the school. Danielle burning alive.” He shivered and fell silent.

Feelings of guilt washed over me. “You kept her safe.”

“I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I should have been here.”

“But you weren’t.”

He didn’t say it as an accusation, but I flinched anyway. “No. I was stuck far away.”

“You choose that? To be away?” It was an odd question and intense green eyes demanded an answer.

“Consciously? I don’t think so. But I was needed where I was too.”

“Gabriel talked about choices. Said they’re what matter, not circumstances.”

“Oh.”

“I made mine. And now the magic is gone.” Those scared eyes of his closed. “Could be permanent. That’s what the doc said.”

That didn’t feel right. Gabriel had visited him and guided him towards saving not just Danielle but probably everyone else in the cottage. If she had been asleep with the rest, that’s where the damned assassin would have found her. That elemental of his would have burned the cottage to the ground with everyone in it. No one would have been awake to put out the flames.

Would Gabriel have asked Magnus to sacrifice his magic? I’d only encountered her once, but that was enough. She was a being overwhelmingly filled with a mercy and love on a scale beyond imagining. If she had given someone else the dream - or even just visited me outright - then Magnus wouldn’t have needed to fry his talent. There had to have been other possibilities. Which meant either there were reasons he needed to lose his powers or Gabriel trusted others to fix it.

Others like me.

I straightened and looked to the Major. “You have your answer. Magnus is a hero not a threat. His prior knowledge was divinely inspired by the angel Gabriel.”

He scowled. “You know I can’t accept that.”

“If you can’t believe that angels exist then you’ve really not been paying attention. Call us what you will, aliens in disguise or crazy meta-powered entities, I don’t care. But he was touched by one and given a glimpse of a horrible future. One which he bravely averted.”

“So he says. There’s no proof.”

“Nor do you have proof or any evidence that he’s lying. Are we still in America, Major? Innocent until proven guilty.”

I swear I heard the guy grind a layer off his back molars but he said nothing.

“If that’s all,” I said, “then why don’t you and your boys take off. Go interrogate those assassins which a trio of highschoolers captured for you. You’ll find Magnus had nothing to do with them.”

“And what are you going to do?” he asked.

“Try to help Magnus.”

“How?”

“By opening up to a possibility of a miracle.” With that I let the wings flow out behind and reached for Magnus with a hand made more of light than flesh.

I didn’t get the usual reaction. If anything the direct opposite.

Magnus screamed, thrashing and trying to turn his face away from me.

“Gah!” I cringed and hastily tried to shut down. Instead of burning brightly the wings folded up with rather long soft white feathers.

“Christ!” Magnus shouted as adrenalin pumped past the pain meds. “What the hell ya doin’?”

“Trying to help?”

“By burning me more?”

“This usually works.”

“Well quit it!”

Barrett, unsure whether it was safe to step between us, barked at me instead. “Aradia! What are you doing?”

I gulped. “Uh, normally I just touch someone and poof into a spirit space and, you know, help things.”

Lowering the arm Magnus blinked. His pupils had contracted to tiny dots. “Now I can’t see.”

“Sorry! I don’t know why it didn’t work.”

“If you made me blind too,” muttered Magnus, wincing while shifting again on the bed.

Barrett leaned over to examine Magnus. “Flash blindness. Should wear off within a minute.”

Okay, what the hell did I do wrong? I meant to connect, see his spirit, and go from there. Like I always seemed to do.

Or always seemed to do with people who were unconscious or trapped inside weird crises of spirit. Crap. Magnus was still awake.

“Sorry Magnus. I’m an idiot.”

“No shit.”

Taking a step back I focused on just opening my own vision instead of the full deal. I didn’t need to go anywhere. He was right here. “Shut your eyes again. Don’t want them recovering only to be re-blinded.”

He grumbled but snapped them shut to block out what he still couldn’t see.

I however could. The room was still there but blending through it were swirls of energetic symbolism, the writing that defined the pattern of all things. The walls, floor, bed - these were simple and static. But superimposed on the burned and annoyed kid in front of me was a mesh of intersecting words and lines all interwoven into a glowing whole. It was beautiful in its complexity, pulsing not just with a heartbeat but with light. That light flowed out of the stream that lay behind everything, that massive intent keeping reality together.

I did my best not to focus on that intent, if I did I could lose coherency on Earth and flow somewhere else altogether yet again. It was hard to resist, like someone telling you not to think of an elephant. Because it was right there and somehow seemed to be waiting for me.

Magnus. Needed to focus on Magnus.

I didn’t need to examine his memories or how his pattern fit into the tapestry because the damage was clear enough: his structure was badly scorched as if someone had piped natural gas through the veins of his spiritual flow and lit a match. The resulting fire had fried those channels, leaving the wreckage of charred piping behind.

Including the spark at his center - the stove’s pilot light that allowed him to use his powers. Instead of glowing strongly like it should have within a spellcaster of Magnus’ talents, it had gone out.

He must have heard me gasp. “Shit, am I dying?”

“Not dying.” I swallowed.

“I told you already.” He sighed. “They warned us in class not to push things too far. This can’t be fixed.”

“Gabriel wouldn’t leave you like this.”

“I made my choice. Just leave me alone,” he groaned. “Go ahead and send me home.”

“Home?”

“No point in being at this school now. I can’t even see the magic anymore.”

He couldn’t see it but I could. Little flares still fizzled along his energy paths, visible representations of the damage to his spirit. The complexity was astounding, layer after layer of patterns forming strands which in turn were layered atop each other to build the core piece of his being. The structure was trying to effect repairs to itself, but it was starved for the resources with which to do so. Circe had taught that the magic spark was a gift received upon birth in the moment when spirit and body merged, a miracle of that blend of soul and the physical that was the gateway allowing consciousness to manifest within each individual person.

Magnus was still alive. Still conscious. He had to still have a spark somewhere buried under this mess.

Kneeling beside him my wings spread wide around the bed like a huge receiver dish, letting the light his spirit gave off collect and focus into my perception.

He flinched as I did so but I ignored him. Because I found it.

Buried underneath the ash a single crystal pulsed quietly. Not a flame, not a fire, but a dim and tiny spark still flickering in time with the heartbeat of his soul. I had to do something though because it flickered threateningly as if it too could fizzle away.

I just wasn’t sure what I could do.

Reinforcing the efforts at self-repair seemed a safe place to start. Very carefully I let light flow to those spots - not to cleanse but just to augment his own spirit’s work. Reading the words comprising the pattern was akin to reading the sentences in a book and finding all the areas where spilled coffee - or burnt ash - had smudged things. If I’d had the skill I could have completed those sentences myself, speaking those words anew - but I was like a child holding a crayon attempting to fill in missing gaps of Shakespeare.

I didn’t dare. Not without Raphael’s expert guidance and he still hadn’t been heard from since fleeing after Tsáyidiel’s restoration. Instead I let Magnus’ spirit slowly absorb the light which did seem to increase its healing efforts - and more importantly eased the strain on his spark.

Oh. That made sense. The small ember was his gateway to power and his spirit needed that power to heal its spirit body and energy channels. But its need was so great that it was snuffing out a source already almost entirely used up.

Could I help that spark? Except this wasn’t like those moments with the Grigori or Tsáyidiel. For them I’d somehow written my own angelic name across the hollow internal spaces where their connection to the Throne and the Light beyond had hung empty. But Magnus was human and his soul already filled that function all on its own.

If I tried to write my name in there to rekindle that spark he’d become bound to me just like Kokabiel and Tsáyidiel. If that would even work, and the more I saw the more I was convinced it wouldn’t. His pattern would reject such an attempt outright. The human soul was a unique and independent shining thing, a majesty and universe all unto itself.

Messing with it without knowing exactly what I was doing was a thought akin to blasphemy.

What was it he had said about his dream? Gabriel talked about choices.

“Magnus?” I asked while intently monitoring that tiny inner ember.

“What? It’s hopeless, isn’t it. Just say so.”

“Why did you save Danielle?”

“I told you already.” The ember flickered.

“You hate the fae.”

“I don’t want anyone to be enslaved. But August said a fae once saved us. They can’t all be bad then, right?”

“You risked death to save her,” I said, pushing him further. “Or did Gabriel tell you you’d live through it?”

“She just showed me what would happen. That asshole was going to burn her alive. The scream, oh god, the scream!” Magnus squirmed on the bed despite the pain of his burns, reddened eyes glaring at me.

Major Barrett risked grabbing my arm. “That’s enough!”

I ignored him. He didn’t have the strength to pull me away no matter how hard he tried. “Magnus! Why did you decide to save her! Why did you rush across campus and risk being burnt up yourself?”

“Because she’s just a girl! She hasn’t done anything! Killing her was wrong! I don’t care what she is, someone had to do something!”

The ember burned brighter, shimmering closer to a full spark. But it still needed a nudge and I softly blew more light across it.

“You chose to act, you chose to help her. Focus on that! Would you do it again? Even though it destroyed your magic? Tell me!”

“Yes! I would sooner have died than to see her burn!”

The beauty of that choice burst into flame. His light and the power I channeled from above vibrated against each other, finding a perfect resonance which took even my breath away. In that moment they were one.

“Hold onto that Magnus! Don’t let go!”

Reaching swiftly I worked to cup that new inner fire, allowing it to burn as bright as it needed without overwhelming his damaged pathways. Slowly, ever so slowly, I let a trickle of the majesty of his choice touch those scorched channels, feeding them gently with the fuel they so desperately needed.

His choice of self-sacrifice began re-knitting his spirit. It knew the words I had lacked, and with me holding it steady so as to prevent the geyser from sweeping all into ash, his spirit started to glow anew.

He felt and heard it too: that symphony from on high eternally sounding its vast celestial chorus. An infinity of notes of which his soul was a sacred part. Size and scale mattered not, for within that music his choice chimed its own glory and in its own way made the whole even more perfect than it had been before.

How long we were lost within that music I cannot say. Time was only one more instrument playing its own sequence in harmony with the rest, guided by the conductor’s intent holding it all together.

When I snapped out of it Magnus’ chest was rising and falling easier than it had before and his eyes had closed. His inner spark shone brightly and the surrounding pattern sparkled with freshly forged lines holding steady within that glow.

His spirit was healing properly.

Major Barrett had taken a seat on one of the two visitor chairs and seemed lost in thought, brow creased. To my surprise the other was occupied by Mrs. Carson. She regarded me coolly.

“Ms. Emrys.”

“Hi,” I said, suddenly quite mentally tired. And not from tapping the light, if anything from the opposite. The effort to not blaze up in full glory in response to what I’d witnessed had drained my focus. Doing so could have undone everything Magnus had just accomplished so I’d fought to be a witness, acting with restraint instead. Trying to put away the wings I listed sideways as the room spun.

Strong yet compassionate hands held my shoulders keeping me upright. “Careful now. Did you overdo it?” Mrs. Carson stood over me, reserved judgment replaced by simple concern.

“No,” I shook my head. Which was a mistake as it just caused things to blur more. “If anything, underdid it.” I struggled to find a way to explain.

“He’s healing isn’t he?” she asked as she guided me over to the now empty chair which was totally not designed for folks with feathers sticking out of their backs. I managed to sit on the front edge of its cushion, squishing feathers behind and around.

“Yeah.”

Magnus had opened his eyes though he obviously still couldn’t see well.

“Hey Magnus,” I said.

“Jordan,” he replied. “You…did you…?”

“Fix everything? Not quite. But you’re healing. You’re going to be okay.”

“I heard…” He paused, expression one of confused wonder.

“I know.” I smiled.

“Was that God?”

“Your choice touched His light. Leave it at that for now, okay? And don’t use your magic. Even if you want to or feel like you can, don’t. You need to heal the rest of the way. If you go and try to do stuff you could still burn things out.”

The boy nodded, smiling with rekindled hope and, dare I say it, awe.

Mrs. Carson looked at me oddly, her more advanced years becoming visible despite the youthfulness of the face. “In cases of magic burnout, introducing more magic flow has always made it worse. What did you do?”

“I don’t channel magic. The light is something else. You can’t fix an electrical wire by pushing more electricity through it, you have to repair the wire. His spirit was trying to grow more wire, I only helped it touch the source it needed.”

She thought for a moment before nodding with a knowing smile. “And here I thought you’d gone and done something outrageous and reckless yet again.”

“Uhm, of course not?” I tried to look innocent. The way she shook her head made it obvious my attempt did not succeed. Oh well.

“Speaking of reckless,” she said as she handed me a piece of paper with tape securing its fold. “I was just visiting August a few doors down.”

Taking the paper, I frowned. “August is in the hospital? What happened?”

“According to them, ‘curiosity almost killed the cat’. They asked me to give that to you the moment I saw you.”

I’ve never had the patience to carefully unwrap Christmas presents and always ended up just tearing them open. This was no different, but fortunately the message hadn’t crossed the ripped chunk of paper stubbornly sticking to the tape.

The note, in handwriting much cleaner than my own, read, “Jordan - I’m not supposed to act on what I’ve seen of the future, but if Gabriel can meddle so can I. Get your butt to her realm pronto. Michael is coming.”

Closing my eyes I shifted the inner vision to look towards that familiar place: a dream all its own where Tsáyidiel and all the fae who had followed me out of Arcadia danced between the lush trees. Through my connections with them the realm always felt close. Above its forest a mighty star slowly descended, six lines of power streaming behind in a long tail reaching to much higher places. It was more a comet than a star.

And like a comet I knew it too was a harbinger of fate. “Uh, I need to go.”

“Really?” Mrs. Carson scoffed in bemusement. “What now?”

“Gabriel’s dream pocket. The Archangel Michael is on his way there.”

Mrs Carson’s eyes widened. “How soon until he arrives?”

“Soon enough,” I answered. “Is flying currently allowed on campus? He’s getting awfully close.”

Mrs. Carson turned quickly to the Major. “Major Barrett,” she said formally.

“Ma’am?” He blinked at her suspiciously before he too got to his feet.

“Please inform your men that an angel is about to fly across the campus. They are not to interfere.”

“Ma’am we decided on the red flag for a reason. We also have orders to keep Ms. Emrys under protection.” The Major, probably without realizing it, took a ‘command’ stance with hands behind his back and feet firmly planted.

“She is about to travel where your men cannot, Major. And I will not risk our country offending an official and prince of the Heavenly Host by preventing her timely arrival and proper welcome. Nor would the President. I doubt the Commander-in-Chief would be pleased to hear you were responsible for an otherwise avoidable celestial diplomatic incident.”

That last bit stumped him and he shut up.

I glanced at Magnus. “Seriously, don’t try anything with your magic, okay? You need to let things settle.”

He nodded.

“We’ll take care of him,” Mrs. Carson said reassuringly while guiding me to the door. “Now go.”

I went.

Once outside I didn’t hesitate. Releasing the constraints on the power in order to fly was like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long. Trying to keep it dampened while still flowing for Magnus had been really weird. But blazing again without holding back cleared away the odd dizziness and I instantly took to the air to make a beeline to the top of Kirby Hall.

I had to see Danielle before I did anything else, even if Michael had to wait a minute. Because dammit, I’d almost lost her again.

Kirby Hall was this Tudor-style beer barrel protruding from the ground and on the roof was a cleared space perfect for magic circles. Like the one Danielle was standing within while directing earth-shattering energies into reforged wards.

Seeing her there in full glory made me so proud.

Arrayed around her were thirteen sky-clad women led in a chant by Tamara’s mother Marilyn. We’d met a couple months ago when Tamara was recovering from a case of demonic possession.

Danielle was the most beautiful of the lot. Of course it was hard to compete against a fae bathed with power, wintry eyes burning fierce while her snow-touched hair billowed within the flow of its own wind. Most of the gathered women from Tamara’s coven gazed upon her with sheer adoration.

Okay, so Danielle’s natural glamour may have had a lot to do with that.

I landed carefully outside the circle, not wanting my own light to interfere with their efforts. I may have just worked a miracle but it looked like Danielle was in the middle of performing her own. The pool of energy normally under the school had obviously been used up in the attack last night, drained to the last drop by the previous wards doing their best before simply running out of mana. A reservoir like that usually took years to fill but Danielle was like a towering waterfall of sheer magic.

Where was she getting that kind of juice?

Peering past the sheets of glittering crystal energies I saw to her source and nearly panicked. Locked away deep below the earth lay Siabh’s ancient Seal. I recognized the pattern from the visions of the past as Aradia had helped Siabh work the casting. Two cracks had formed in that edifice and begun leaking magic and Danielle had somehow grabbed hold of one of those escaping tendrils.

Understanding hit me like a truck. Two Seals had already broken, mine and Camael’s. While the bible referred to seven of the dang things as Aradia I only remembered four:

The first to keep angels (and others) from crossing over in true manifestations.

The second to bind Azazel and his dark chaos.

The third to save the blood of Gaia’s heart from running out.

And the fourth to bind all the angels, gods, fae, and any other mystical beings still walking upon the earth into human lives and human memory and thus preserve the first three.

All were forged on that same fateful day out of the combined intent of those involved, and therefore all were connected. Break one and the rest must weaken.

When we were fighting to rescue Danielle from the fae queen only the first had been shattered from when I spread wings to catch her fall. Siabh must have used that first crack in Gaia’s wellspring to save Arcadia from my complete and utter fuckup.

Now Danielle used one of two cracks to work her magic in support of the school. How much was her pulling on that tendril weakening the rest of the Seal? I tried to get a better look but the paths to viewing Siabh’s spellcraft twisted and warped, spiraling between a multitude of layers of dream and stone. What I could make out however was that Danielle had taken hold some distance from the source: the leak, while insignificant compared to the whole still locked away, had pooled into an icy vision that Danielle herself maintained.

She wasn’t touching the seal, in fact she couldn’t. It was bound into its own space, isolated and secure. But as her soul was Siabh’s she had her own connection and through that she had opened a space within herself to gather that escaping energy and make use of it.

I was seriously impressed.

While the thirteen women were too focused on what they were doing to notice my arrival, Danielle did and sent a mental thought straight to me.

I hadn’t known she could do that.

“Jordan! Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Hi hon. I could say the same for you!”

“Yeah, it’s been nuts. And as you can see I’m kinda busy.”

“Unfortunately so am I. I have to go to Gabriel’s realm again. Like right now.”

“Trouble?”

“I hope not. I just couldn’t leave without seeing you. Especially when you’re being so incredible!”

Despite all the sparkling energies I could still see her wide grin. “Coming from an angel with flaming wings that’s quite a compliment.”

“Right now you’re kicking my ass in the awesome department, no lie. I’ll come see you when I get back. There’s a lot to talk about.”

“Isn’t there always? We never get a break.”

“No we don’t. Love you.”

“Love you too!”

She returned her attention to conducting the spellwork of her entire crew and I took to the air.

Something had changed within her and not just the gaining of the ability to channel such crazy power. Her mental contact had a surety to it as if a number of inner doubts had resolved themselves and in so doing forged a stronger will. She felt a lot like Siabh of old but was still all Danielle.

She was right. We definitely had a lot to discuss.

Foregoing stairs and any interruptions from recovering students I coasted straight to the balcony atop Hawthorne. Stepping inside I gave Khan a quick pet and kiss atop his forehead before moving him off his favorite sleeping spot. I ignored his meowing protests and donned the leather and metal bracers which a crazy sorcerer had sent me only a few weeks ago. Khan had instantly decided they made the perfect place to sleep and so wasn’t too happy with being dislodged. He gave me a loving nudge anyway. All I knew about the bracers was that they had been found in an alcove near a powerful book written by an angel and their golden metal had their own angelic script woven through their pattern declaring things like ‘shield’, ‘protection’, and ‘glory of the light’.

I was pretty sure that with the way things were going I needed all the help I could get and ought to keep them on. With that done I turned around within the triple circle and willed myself to move into the world of dreams.

Getting to Gabriel’s realm had become all too easy.

 

Chapter 17 - Legacy

Michael stood upon the high rock with Gabriel’s ocean and clear blue sky spread out behind him.

The scenery, as amazing as it was, paled in comparison.

Under a simple white and sleeveless tunic were layers of solid yet flexible muscle. He was tall without being giant, thick without it interfering with agility. Blond hair the color of a candle flame rested upon square shoulders to frame a clean-shaven face adorned with twin sapphire eyes taking in the sights of the grassy clearing that led to the thicker forest beyond. Golden bracers covered otherwise bare forearms with the same intricate designs as the threaded metal cord at his waist. Six wings of perfect ivory edged with matching gold fluttered behind in tune with the calm sea breeze. In a word he was breathtaking yet it wasn’t his physical self that left you wanting to fall to your knees in adoring supplication.

It was his aura.

Try to remember the time you felt safest and the most loved and secure. Maybe it was in your mother’s arms when a small child, or when tucked into bed with your spouse gently snoring behind you. Or when out with the closest comrades and having that knowledge that no matter what happened these were the people who would support you through thick and thin. No matter what they had your back.

Now magnify that a billionfold.

When people discuss angels Michael has often been described as a powerful warrior, the one who cast Lucifer from Heaven and the leader of the Host who marched against Evil with a capital ‘E’. But the term warrior was lacking and missed out on the truth which stood so magnificently upon that rock.

Michael was a Defender.

You just knew - with all your heart and soul - that he was the ultimate bulwark against the dark. That he would move faster than thought to crush any and all threats to the good before ever so gently carrying you to safety because he treasured with all his heart those who were on the side of light.

And woe unto you if you were not.

It was no wonder that Tsáyidiel - in his dark-winged human form - knelt before him with bowed head and trembling shoulders. I wanted to too. Between the trees in the forest behind my little fae had gathered together with equal measures of awe and fear. There’s a reason why in the Bible the first thing angels would often say to cowering mortals was ‘Be not afraid’.

Except Michael didn’t say that when he addressed Tsáyidiel.

“I know you.”

The voice was deep but not too deep and spoken quietly yet the words carried enough force for Tsáyidiel to flinch. “Yes, my Lord.”

“You served under Gabriel’s captain. Kafziel.”

“A long time ago, Lord.”

“You fell.” If a phrase alone could cut this one would have.

Tsáyidiel lowered his head further. “Yes, Lord. To my forever shame.”

Michael paused, those blue orbs measuring and weighing what was before him.

“Yet now you shine. How?”

I felt this was my cue and stepped forward to put a hand on Tsáyidiel’s shoulder. “Because such pain should never be eternal.”

Until that moment Michael had mostly ignored me and my arrival although that wasn’t quite right. He had been fully aware of my presence but his focus had remained on Tsáyidiel because of the Kerubim being a possible threat. With my statement however I gained his full attention.

That aura of security that had surrounded me wavered with a sharp uncertainty as the archangel’s wariness and guard completely shifted into an unsteady balance of confusion.

He tried to comprehend what he saw. “You…you did this?”

“Through me the Light did this.”

Michael, steadfast Defender of Heaven, took a small step back in shock while he gazed back and forth between me and Tsáyidiel - obviously examining the lines of power that tied us together and all that they implied. Then he looked towards the forest and all the fae who were also similarly connected to me.

As he scowled my heart sank. His ire lifted his wings on a hot wind of growing anger.

“You allowed the fae to profane this sacred place with their presence? Do you not know where you stand?!”

What? Uh oh. “Lord Michael,” I said quickly. “Please allow me to explain, it’s a long-”

He cut me off with a raised hand of determined command. “Cease! Step forward!” The gentleness was gone. His barked words carried an impulse to obey that washed through me demanding compliance from my very spirit as if plucking at the strings of a guitar to make the required sound. My feet wanted to move forward and my wings wanted to push against the air to get there even quicker.

I however did not.

“Quit that!” I growled with an anger of my own and with a pulse of light forcefully shoved away his energetic command. Having resisted Louis’ mental demands earlier had left me weirdly more ready to resist Michael’s more powerful onslaught.

Tsáyidiel gasped and Michael blinked with surprise as his hand slowly lowered. He stared at me for a long count to five or maybe even to ten.

“I believe,” Michael said slowly, “that you and I should talk.” His imperial demeanor faded and as it did I managed to catch a glimpse under the armor of that powerful presence. It was only for the briefest of moments but I was trying hard to follow Tian’s advice and pay close attention.

The Defender of Heaven was worried.

With teeth still grinding from the attempted mind-control I forced myself to nod. “Yeah. I think you’re absolutely right. Tsáyidiel, please gather everyone deeper into the forest out of earshot. ”

Tsáyidiel didn’t hesitate to get out of there. “Yes, my Lady.” He launched into the air and streamed into the forest. That left me and the troubled archangel standing alone.

I took a deep breath before letting it out slow before addressing Michael. “Right then. Who wants to start, you or me?”

At the corners of his mouth appeared a slight smile. “I believe the lovely lady has the privilege.” As if the entire scene hadn’t been weird enough, the way he said that caused my cheeks to flush.

What the heck?

~o~O~o~

 

Deciding that honesty was the best policy I proceeded to spill all the beans as best I could. Lying to Michael seemed like a really bad idea so it took awhile.

He listened patiently to the entire saga while we sat together on the rock without offering any comments or questions. With the intensity of those blue orbs though and given what I myself had been able to do I’d give high odds that while I was relating the memories he was watching them directly at the same time in full surround sound and high-definition.

Which likely meant he was indulging me by letting my blather go on and on, wanting me to feel more comfortable about it. Quite a switch in demeanor too: from absolute imperiousness to warm yet concerned and friendly guy. If not outright flirty.

I hoped I could keep him in the latter mode. His reaction to the fae being here was still scary.

Since I gave it to him straight I had to mention Isaiah and Azrael as well as Danielle and Siabh, along with all the times I’d written the name Amariel into the heart of an angel or a fae. And of course I had to talk about Gabriel.

“I haven’t seen her since she threw me back into the world, but she’s still around. She just visited a boy in his dreams and nudged him into fulfilling his heroic potential. He saved a lot of people from something pretty horrible.”

Michael smiled. “That’s good to know. And tells me a number of things.”

“Such as?”

“Chief of importance is that she is well. Many of us had become concerned.”

“Ah.”

“Also it is clear that her disappearance from Heaven is part of a much larger plan. Your story and existence clearly declares the boldness of her current endeavors.”

“Triggering the Apocalypse on the world is rather bold, yeah.”

He shook his head. “That is a minor footnote of what she has put into motion.”

Say what? “I doubt those on Earth consider it such. I certainly don’t.”

“In time you may agree more with me.”

“You trying to win some cosmic cheesecake too?”

“Cheesecake?” He tilted his head and looked at me oddly.

“Nevermind,” I sighed. I could try to push for an explanation but immediate concerns really did need to take precedence. Not that he’d likely answer directly anyway. “So about the fae being here. I didn’t know where else to take them.”

He pondered before finally nodding. “I suppose not.” He stood, rising to sandaled feet with a smoothness and military grace that would have been the envy of Sensei Ito.

If he had seen it the old sensei would have made students practice nothing else for weeks.

“Come Amariel,” Michael said while offering a hand up. “You should see Gabriel’s dream for what it truly is.”

His grip was gentle yet also like taking hold of Mt. Everest. The strength within simply was, like a force of nature or the course of planets in their inevitable paths circling the sun.

Once on my feet he released his hand and flew towards the distant mountains. I followed. I hadn’t scoped out the true scale of the realm before much to my embarrassment. It was larger than I’d thought and those mountains weren’t just painted backdrops.

In fact they were massive.

As we approached the line where trees stopped growing and bare rock began he slowed to descend. Set within a tremendous boulder standing upright were two undecorated rectangular slabs sitting side by side.

They clearly were a pair of smooth doors.

“Ask them to open,” he said with an odd measure of reverence. “This place reacts to you as if you were her.”

“Why? And why do so many folks keep mistaking me for her anyway?” This was one of the big questions I still hadn’t gotten any answers to.

“Your pattern. Open the rocks.”

Right. He obviously wanted extra whip cream on that cheesecake. After an annoyed glance in his direction that he totally ignored, I hovered lower and put a hand on the cold and blank stone.

“Please open,” I asked it simply. What more could I have said? Abracadabra would have sounded foolish.

Considering his comment I shouldn’t have been so surprised, but the instant creaking of heavy stone as they folded inward still caused me to twitch back a few wingstrokes. Behind those many stories tall doors lay a smooth corridor heading back into the utterly dark mountain.

“Follow.” He flew forward straight into that darkness.

Taking off after him the light flowing off my wings shone only about twenty feet ahead as if the place, while it didn’t mind the light, also didn’t want untoward illumination ruining the hushed ambiance of our approach either.

I didn’t notice exactly when the floor disappeared out from under us nor when the walls to the sides and the ceiling above pulled away. He kept going for what seemed like a long time, and without any references I had no idea how fast or slow we’d been flying.

Eventually he stopped, both of us hanging in the midst of what had to have been the largest cavern I’d ever been in. And one which was utterly silent.

With the way he floated there and the reserved expression crossing his features it felt like we’d entered somewhere sacred.

Turns out we had.

“Shine forth your light, Amariel, and bear witness.”

Releasing the inner gate holding back the brilliance caused the sphere of illumination to expand outward. There was so much space in here that I stopped to look at him with confusion but without a word he gestured for me to continue.

So I did. Like a miniature star I willed light to pour forth unrestrained and gasped at what its rays revealed.

Imagine an underground stadium many sizes larger than the Grand Canyon curving ever so slowly towards a bottom platform an uncountable number of miles below. That would be a start to understand the scale of what arrayed itself around us. Instead of stadium seats circling the ring level by level there were individual alcoves each with its own pedestal. And upon each pedestal stood an angel. Male, female, and indeterminate they stood.

With the light-enhanced sight I could make out each one clearly. The details were so perfect that they breathed and occasionally turned their heads as I looked past generating a discordant feeling that they had somehow been trapped down here. But as I focused more deeply I saw that wasn’t the case.

The angels were all formed from memories. Gabriel’s memories. Some smiled or even smirked with joy, others were calm and beatific. Some mourned and others raged without a voice to shout out their fury. They lacked substance yet were clad in real and solid pieces unique to each, the solid items floating in perfect synchronization with its surrounding holographic-like projection. A circlet here, a breastplate there, bejeweled necklaces, many patterned robes, and all the swords. So many angelic swords held by countless ghostly fingers which had once known exactly how to wield them, all with a distinct heavenly purpose etched in sacred words along each blade.

In the reflected light those blades caught fire with all the colors an eye could see and many with flames far beyond any human spectrum. They were beautiful, as were the faces of those who held them—though not all had human-style forms. Some were dazzling wheels comprised of eyes or chimera-like conglomerates of animals. Others were simply glorious fountains of pure energy who shone and danced in patterns beyond description.

Billions upon billions of them. If not trillions. More than there were grains of sand on the beaches surrounding her realm.

With absolute reverence, Michael spoke and his celestial voice echoed throughout the vast space. “Behold. Our beloved Gabriel’s Monument of Remembrance.”

The solid items anchored each alcove’s resonance and I understood. They were the last remaining fragments of the angels themselves. Each piece of armor, each weapon, each bit of decorative jewelry, all carried a small part of a whole now lost, lingering with shards of that original power. A power preserved by this place so it would never be forgotten.

Without thinking I put a palm over one of the bracers on my forearm because they too vibrated in response to the undeniable purpose of this place, and their own pain of remembrance lanced through me before I could even call out to Michael for help.

 

Corpses, each belonging to those who had once been his most beloved brothers, piled atop each other in an endless mound under bare and bloody feet, their viscera painting their armor, their tabards, and all their once-beautiful feathers with the horrid effluence of their demise.

In the distance the last of his squad could be seen reaching the safety of the defending Host in accordance to his shouted instructions before he alone had charged into the center of this branch of the Rebel’s forces. With the madness of his rage he had bought the defenders time to regroup by diverting Asmodeus and his army’s attention away from walls still waiting for reinforcements against this unexpected sally sent forth by those who had set brother against brother.

Every Rebel which stood against him had been cut down with a swiftness granted by the purity of the furious fire swelling from within. For his wrath was the Lord’s and his skill the Lord’s vengeance. Each drop of their blood was a sacrament, his offering to the Most High as he sliced angel by angel at the sickness which had polluted the glorious harmony of the Throne.

His blade screamed the Lord’s torment and judgment as it mowed down the offending sources of His pain. An agony seen all too clearly threatening to rupture his Lord’s heart of hearts as brother slaughtered brother covering the field with dismemberment and destruction, a profanity visited upon the sacred.

The stacking bodies scaled into a burnt sky hanging over the outer planes of Heaven. When Gabriel’s lesser horn blew the sweet sound of reinforcement’s arrival the remaining rebels split their hasty retreat to race around the mound for none dared offer challenge to the crimson-soaked destroyer standing defiantly at the terrible plinth.

Thousands upon thousands hurried past and he glared at them all with the singular promise of utter destruction to any who dared come within reach.

His sword’s flame, once anointed with the purest of lights granted by the Lightbringer himself, now burned with a fire matching that which had pumped through the veins of those it cut down. Formerly bright ivory feathers also had drunk deep of the fallen blood to carry their stain forevermore.

Even Lucifer’s brilliance later proved powerless to cleanse the taint soaked into the depths of Camael’s battle-scarred wings.

~o~O~o~

 

Michael caught me when my own wings failed. The buried heartbreak stored within Camael’s bracers had bled forth with a weight and burden I had been unable to bear.

He was polite enough to give me time to get myself back together after carrying me back to the forest. When the tears wore themselves out I sat silently in the dirt amidst the tall pine trees watching as the sunless light above dimmed towards night. When enough coherency returned for me to realize how long we’d been resting there I looked to him.

The archangel gazed back with a measure of pity and a deep sorrow all his own.

“Almost all of those remembered here died in the First War,” he said solemnly. “What has come after has been kept to a tiny fraction in comparison with the devastation caused by that conflict. The one whose bracers you wear struck down more of our brothers and sisters than any other warrior from either side.”

“How could such a thing have happened?”

“Ideas have great power. And some are not compatible.”

I shook my head, trying to sort through what was me and what was Camael’s lingering memory. “Camael hated his enemies with a terrible fury - a hatred unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Yet Gabriel loved them all.” Many of the faces lying dead under Camael’s feet had alcoves of their own within the mountain. Gabriel’s monument knew no sides, only loss.

“She is our heart. Gabriel came into being when the potential for the Throne was forged. She gifted us with the love needed for its fruition. The strength of her love is what bound all our purposes together in perfect harmony, coalescing our words into the Throne whereby the consciousness of Elohim could manifest.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looked out at the forest, but not at its trees. “Consider: a child first learns vocabulary before they are able to weave them into coherent statements. The first of us were like those first words, distinct but aware only of our own purposes. Prince Helel - you know him as the Morningstar or his title as the Lightbringer - saw in the light a greater possibility, a greater story. He saw the potential of our purposes combined and created a path whereby the fullness of that potential could take shape and actively guide us towards that greater destiny. We tied ourselves together, dedicating ourselves to the use by that higher purpose. It is the strength of Gabriel’s love which binds us together and allows Elohim to be. We are Him, and He is us. And in that unity He is more.” As he spoke of Gabriel and Elohim, the flames of his love glowed fiercely with the absolute purity of his devotion.

Michael’s beautiful wings then dimmed as his thoughts shifted. “Our harmony suffered the later loss of those who felt Elohim’s plans conflicted too greatly with their own. Even Gabriel’s love was not enough to overcome their pride and their lust for power and glory.”

“Oh.” I’d touched Gabriel’s love before, it was indeed all that Michael described and more. Grace personified, a tender caring beyond anything else I’d ever known, a love which uplifted without end. To reject that, to cast such a love aside, was simply incomprehensible. Yet that’s what the rebels in the vision of Camael’s slaughter had done. His fury against those he cut down echoed that incomprehensibility, for how could someone reject love itself?

“Gabriel’s disappearance is therefore most troubling. While she has gone off for short periods before she has always been easily found. Most often it is here that she comes, wandering through the forest and stones covering these remembered wounds. This is why Raphael, our beloved healer, searched this place first when concern reached a point of action.”

“Like I told you, I met him here. He helped me a great deal and then fled.” Truth be told Raphael witnessed Tsáyidiel’s restoration in the light and with a cry flew off horrified at what I’d done. After that he stopped taking my calls.

“Our brother returned to the city and has locked himself within his tower ever since. He refuses to come out or answer any questions.”

Guess I wasn’t the only one he’d shut out.

Michael continued, “Disturbed by this I followed his path for if there is any threat to Heaven then it falls upon me to deal with it.”

I had to ask, even though my stomach swirled with the fear of what he may answer. “Am I a threat?”

A hand stronger than galaxies squeezed mine. “That remains to be seen, young one. Gabriel has clearly set events in motion that carry severe risk. Angels regaining their words by being reforged in the light is unprecedented and this will cause strife among our numbers.”

“Why? If they can be healed, what is wrong with that?”

He let go and studied me. “When a tool has proven itself flawed and broken with use how can it be trusted to resume its task? If the original was weak how much weaker must it be after any repair? We angels uphold existence. If we fail then everything falls.”

I didn’t like that analogy and countered with one of my own. “You know how humans grow bigger muscles? They use them enough to cause the fibers to tear. Then those rips are repaired with even more fiber which in turn makes the whole even stronger. Their pain fuels their growth.”

We sat in silence and I worried that I’d upset him. Then those gold-rimmed wings stretched towards the purple and pink covered sky and lifted him off his feet.

A serious expression regarded me. “I return to our beloved city with much to consider. Should you see Gabriel please tell her I look forward to our eventual discussion regarding her activities.”

“Is that it?” I asked as I stood up to face him. “There’s a lot going on down here and I’m fumbling around in the dark. I could use some help. Heck, I could use a lot of help.”

He pushed a reddish-gold lock away from my eyes with a tenderness bordering on sorrow. “You have enough light by which to see if you but keep your eyes open.”

Conflicting emotions swarmed within and with them came an image of Michael cradling Gabriel in his arms while she too had cried unending mournful tears against that wide unyielding chest. I choked up, fighting against the pull of that tender memory.

“Amariel,” he said, and in saying the name pulled me back to the here and now. “Things shall be what they shall be. But remember this: I will do all in my power to prevent another war from afflicting our people. No matter what I must do - or whom I must do it to.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

He added one last thing before those mighty sets of perfect wings pulled him higher into the sky. “Keep the fae away from the Memorial and they may stay. As for you, best not delay your return to Earth.”

“Why?”

“You are about to receive a communique of some importance.” So saying his many wings beat mightily and he faded past the borders of Gabriel’s realm.

I quickly relayed the instructions regarding the fae to Tsáyidiel via our energetic link. I really should talk to him more often. Not that he’s ever complained, but thinking about it now I felt guilty. Or maybe that was just from still being awash with the confusion of the day’s overwhelming emotions. Nor did I have time to figure that out. With a surge of will I stepped back into my bedroom where Khan sat waiting.

The phone immediately began to ring.

I stared at the insistent receiver. If it wasn’t for being worried that something more had befallen Isaiah I might have just let it go and ignored it for the rest of the day.

After one more ring I picked it up.

 

Chapter 18 - Temptation

Paradise lay just out of reach behind a wall of solid glass.

Thick trees and ferns with verdant greens sharper than mortal eyes could fathom swayed over a bed of tropical flowers arrayed in rainbows which had never known the Earth. Crystal dew pooled upon luscious fruits and crisp leaves, sparking refractions from the brilliant aurora flowing through a glittering sky.

Fists pounded numbly against the unyielding and transparent barrier, stuck behind it in a colorless and tasteless space filled only with grey shadows shuffling to and fro against a fog neither cold nor warm.

Even the shout escaping her throat was dull and distant, lacking texture and meaning for the emptiness within swallowed everything.

Down that hollow throat she fell, the suffocating gauzy walls of the passage twisting and smothering until she was suspended by its web like a fly caught in amber staring motionless beyond its golden prison.

Only then did Erica awaken to a space not unlike where she had just been.

The small studio apartment was bare. A full size mattress lay on the floor, one folding chair tucked under a folding table, walls and cupboards remained bare, and entire sections of the beige carpet still showed the vacuum patterns of the quick clean it received before she had moved in.

Two items of importance were visible. First was an expensive gourmet coffee machine on the kitchen counter next to the provided refrigerator. And second was a new wide-screen laptop whose shipping box and packing foam still waited patiently besides the exit that lead to the trash bins which were their destiny. All sat in dimness behind the thick blackout curtains preventing the noon-day sun any chance of entrance.

A single towel also hung over a slender shower and bathtub combo, which was moved onto the closed toilet seat while Erica took a scalding hot shower. Skin much younger than it had any right to be reddened under that heat. Steam covered the mirror and allowed her another few moments of peace as she dried, dressed, and finally settled onto the metal chair with a mug of coffee still tasting bitter regardless of how much raw sugar was added.

This past night’s dream of entrapment didn’t bother her; it was par for the course and nothing she hadn’t gotten used to since her return. The one from the day before though, that one still lingered.

As he had known it would.

 

“Why do you torture yourself so, ma fleur?”

“I’m not your flower, Galen.”

“Yet your fields are full of such lovely blossoms.”

“How did you…shit. I’m dreaming.”

“Of course. Only by sweet and tender moonlight may our wandering paths mingle since your much lamented departure.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Would you believe that I missed you?”

“No.”

“Pity. After all we shared. And for so long.”

“Long enough for you to tire of your toy and flush it back into the garbage with the rest.”

“In my defense the replacement pet did prove delectable. Nowhere near as hardy as you, sadly. Or sharp tongued.”

“Fuck off.”

“See? You illustrate my point exactly. And now you are once again among the mortals. Have you told them the truth yet, I wonder?”

“The truth of what?”

“Of how many years were so precisely recorded by that wonderful little time-piece of yours, dearest one. Ticking such precisely measured moments as you partook in our revelries and sampled the treasures of all we are and offer.”

“The subject hasn’t come up.”

“Ah how I have envied you mortals your ability to speak such untruth directly. What a marvelous and terrible power. I must admit your performance of youth and innocence before the budding Seraph was simply breathtaking.”

“You fae deceive readily enough. Omissions and evasions are your bread and butter.”

“Aye, weaving rainbows of assumption and delusion is indeed a favored artistic form. But an outright lie? Such a thing frays the spirit. We are beings of order imposed on chaos, lies lead naught but to our dissolution. Unlike you humans who are such a splendid mix of the two, blended so thoroughly that the combination is in all practice of a different nature entirely.”

“Stop babbling and get to the point. What do you want?”

“To save you from drowning in the mundane; to lift your spirit once more to heights unimagined.”

“Spare the bullshit and speak clearly or I’ll force myself awake just to shut you up.”

“Sadness wounds me. This lack of poetry brings pain to a yearning heart. But so be it, I shall endeavor to be blunt. I am here to make you an offer. I am here to take you home.”

“Don’t be stupid. You know I can’t go back. The Queen-”

“The Queen has forsworn harm upon you therefore I too am bound. So swear fealty to me and my house and return not as a slave but as the lady upon my well-tailored and gallant arm. We shall set the Court afire with our dance and our feet shall sow the bone and ash left in our wake.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Is it? I like you. It was not entirely by choice that my favor shifted to another. Your evolution still intrigues me. The Queen shared that fascination but alas a wandering angel came and stole her pretty jewel away.”

“Some fascination: opportunistically taking advantage of a child on a whim. She used me up for my knowledge of this world before tossing me to her wolves. You remember those, don’t you? With their teeth and claws that shred the flesh of dreams?”

“Never a whim. Scented potential. She had plans for you until the bumbling Bene-Elohim interfered. If you act now you can turn this to an advantage. Accept my offer, rise to a loftier position at my side, and turn the dust upon your tongue into the ambrosia you deserve. Think on it, but do not tarry. The timepiece of this possibility slips steadily towards closure. Our Queen is on the move and waits for no one.”

 

The hot mug clenched between trembling palms still refused to feel warm. Galen had not been a major player at the courts although he yearned to be. The offer was an obvious manipulation for his own gain. Except that did not mean two could not profit from such an arrangement. After all, how long had she spent dreaming of claiming her own stature amongst those whose disregard she had constantly suffered? All while knowing that she herself had more magic potential than they if only she had been allowed to use it.

More importantly, how long could she now hold out before giving in just for a small taste of the raw magic that had once glistened across his oh-so-sumptuous skin? Her senses ached to again feel so alive and so enraptured, screaming as they were now from the chains of this stolid physical mundane reality.

The computer’s chime reminded that this day was not her own to immerse solely in the endless debate raging within her head. Her mortal father’s flight had arrived. He would soon be at her doorstep with expectations of assistance for his attempts at redemption both in his career and as a parent.

Which meant she had research to do.

For Erica Lain, known to some as Fields, had vowed to never venture blindly into any situation ever again.

~o~O~o~

 

A young woman perhaps in her mid-twenties with a long blonde ponytail affixed by a purple scrunchy climbed into the car which Diego had chartered for the afternoon and evening. Being the pilot project for the online service Uber the vehicle was a black towncar and looked more official than the company had in mind for its future. But to get the service off the ground style was important.

As the woman smoothed out the skirt of her magenta sun-dress Diego stared at her with a measure of confusion.

“Erica? Is that you?” His daughter should have had dark hair and dark eyes, not these Norwegian features.

The returned grin was sharp enough to answer the question all on its own. “You really think I’d attempt to go to a nightclub as a fifteen year-old? Get real, father. No one would be that stupid.”

He frowned. “There’s no aura of glamour upon you.”

Erica snorted. “Like I’d risk a whiff of that when dealing with this Bishop guy.”

“Oh.” Diego leaned forward to tell the driver where to go. “Head to Beyond Silk. It’s in the Tenderloin.”

The business suit clad chauffeur acknowledged and pulled out into traffic to head towards the Bay Bridge connecting Oakland to San Fransisco.

His passengers leaned back in their seats to share an uncomfortable silence. Only when the car reached the start of the bridge and its deep fog did Diego brave conversation.

“How are you?”

“What do you care? I’m good enough to do as you asked.”

“You’re my daughter. Of course I care.”

“Really. So tell me: is this guy we are meeting actually capable of curing my condition? Or are we going more for you to weasel yourself back into the good graces of the DPA?”

“That’s unfair. I sought out Kurohoshi to ask-”

“To ask what?” she interrupted, blue eyes flashing. “It’s awfully coincidental that Aradia was there don’t you think?”

“We owe her a debt. Fortune has aligned in this.”

“No. ‘We’ don’t owe her. That debt is mine alone.”

“I cannot see it that way. She saved my daughter.”

She sneered. “That’s your guilt talking.”

Diego winced. As sets of the bridge’s pylons slipped past through the mist he asked quietly, “What can I do to make things right between us? What happened to the little girl who used to laugh and spend her afternoons with me painting cartoons out of magic?”

“You left her behind for your true love: your books and your damn career. Then you cheated on your wife - a woman who had never been altogether stable - and left your precious little girl solely in that psycho bitch’s hands.”

“The courts ruled in her favor. I tried to fight the restraining order but you know your mother. The judge was directly in her pocket!”

“Oh? You forget that I know how fucking powerful my father truly is if only he stopped pretending. Or have you conveniently forgotten how many of your ‘hidden’ books I read before she kicked you out?”

“Those were warded and never meant for a child’s eyes. Even you could not have accessed them.”

She gaped at him in astonishment. “My god. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You truly never understood the extent of my talent! Because your own ego couldn’t begin to conceive of being made so small by comparison.”

It was his turn to scowl. “That sounds like an ego-driven statement all to itself.”

“Please. I was five when I realized I could decipher the contents of your computer’s memory by analyzing the electrical flow within each individual register. Your wards may as well have been written in crayon compared to breaking encryption ciphers using a mix of code, math, and magic. I hid how smart I was purely out of self-defense. Neither you nor mother would have tolerated being lesser than your own offspring. You two couldn’t even tolerate each other.”

“I would agree on that with regards to your mother.”

“You were only happy when you believed you were showing off to a wide-eyed child hanging on to your every trick of magic. And I made all the right ooh and aah exclamations to keep you pacified after already having consumed most of your library whenever both you and mother were at work. I even cheated on the examinations to get into Whateley and got away with it.”

“Cheated?”

“Absolutely. Showed enough talent to get in but not enough to freak anyone out. Otherwise I would have been banished to Hawthorne Cottage out of fear just like they did to Aradia.”

“Then they failed you in not seeing through your illusions.”

Another pylon went past but Erica was staring angrily at her lap. “They didn’t fail me. I failed them. Though it took a long time to see that.”

“As I failed you.”

“Yeah well shit happens,” she snapped. “That’s a lesson learned quickly when stuck as a slave to the fae.”

“If I had known-”

She waved an annoyed hand. “Stop. Just stop. You didn’t want to know. You could have used oh so many ways to keep in touch but didn’t. And we both know why. Use of magic to violate the court’s ruling would have destroyed your career if discovered. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t yet yelled at me for taking the cursed pendant that got you fired.”

“You are a child. The fault was mine.”

“Was a child. If you can’t understand that then tonight will not go well.”

“Even given the four years lost with the fae that only makes you nineteen. You’re still young.”

“So you say.”

The car reached the end of the bridge and entered San Fransisco proper. Both stared out the windows at the hill-strewn terrain, lost in their own thoughts.

“What’s the game plan?” she asked abruptly, breaking her attention away from the wilder scenery.

“As you have so aptly noted I am currently unemployed. If Bishop can help your condition I am prepared to offer my services in exchange.”

“Seriously?” Erica looked sharply at her father. “All your services?”

“Yes.”

She blinked. “That’s a surpris…ingly good excuse for him to talk with us. But what about the questions regarding these bombs?”

“I hadn’t worked it out yet.”

“Then leave that part to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. There’s always blackmail.” The pretty white teeth she flashed were purely predatory.

Diego shivered. He was no longer sure who would prove more dangerous: the obvious underworld criminal they were about to meet or his own daughter.

He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

~o~O~o~

 

Walking into Beyond Silk caused Erica’s skin to crawl and not just from the overtly gothic Victorian decor. Though the overdone vibrancy of the blue and dark bronzed chaise lounge chairs lining the candelabra lit hallway might have been enough to creep one out all on their own. No, it was the static hum of energy surrounding everything that crept like ants down her arms. If it had been electrical the air would have smelled strongly of ozone.

Instead it reeked of magic.

Her father had called ahead and arranged to speak to the proprietor and thus the bouncer at the front entrance allowed them entrance despite the club not opening for another hour. Beyond the gargoyles guarding the front’s red brick edifice they were diverted up a narrow set of stairs and creaking wood-floored hallway to a small office. A single desk of carved wood dominated the room, a slick bone white all-in-one computer resting on its surface next to an office phone, one with more buttons and features than anyone would ever use. Behind the desk lurked a tall black leather chair and a small veranda supporting a full crystal decanter and matching glasses. The muscle-bound escort offered a pair of maroon wingback chairs facing the desk and informed them that they would be seen shortly.

Diego examined the lighted wall sconces, pointing out that each contained not only a candle but a dimly glowing crystal.

Erica however ignored him and closed her eyes as if to settle in for a quick nap.

Twenty minutes later their individual reveries were broken by a deep baritone.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

Diego twitched as if trying not to jump out of his chair. Erica simply opened her eyes to examine the newcomer. An exceedingly tall and overly skinny gentleman ducked under the door frame and walked behind the desk. He had made no sound across the hall when he had approached despite wearing perfectly polished black dress shoes that matched the antique-styled dark slacks and jacket which hung loose around a beige silk vest.

The wizard cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Quite alright.”

Their host slid into the chair behind the desk which eerily also didn’t make any sound. “Ah, forgive. I have you at perhaps a disadvantage as I know full well who you are, Martin Diego. I am the one called Bishop.” He’d pronounced Martin as ‘Marteen’ and his voice was almost unnaturally deep, bouncing through the room as a direct vibration against the chest.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Diego. “Allow me to introduce my daughter Erica.”

Erica smiled those pearly whites. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she practically gushed.

Bishop’s thick eyebrows arched slightly. “Takes after her mother I presume?”

“Oh I hope not,” Erica laughed lightly, crossing smooth legs under the dress.

Their host curled an olive-toned finger over his chin. “Tell me, what can I do for the DPA today?”

“We’re here on private business,” Diego said quickly. “I am no longer with the agency.”

“Really.” Bishop’s response dripped skepticism.

“In short I was let go. Due to an indiscretion.” Diego leaned forward, tapping a bejeweled ring against the chair’s armrest as he did so.

“An indiscretion.” Bishop looked between them much like a wolf wondering which doe was worthy of hunting.

“Demonic in nature,” added Erica cheerfully.

Bishop didn’t even blink. “I see. Someday I’d love to hear the story in full but you catch me on a rather busy day.”

Diego tried to speak but Erica was faster. “My father is here on my behalf truth be told. We were given to understand that you may be able to help with a rather unique problem.”

“I am but a simple operator of one of the city’s night spots. What assistance could I possibly offer? A wedding perhaps?”

“Hardly,” Erica responded with a small snort. “Try faerie sickness.”

The elongated man tilted his head with rising interest. “Say more.”

“Many years worth of spiritual exposure to a fae realm. Leaves a mark.”

He considered before nodding. “Weaned away slowly?”

“Cut off suddenly.”

Bishop raised that single long finger. “Bear with me a moment.” Picking up the phone he didn’t bother to dial. “Conor,” he said into the device, “We’ll need a little longer than I thought.”

Replacing the phone upon the cradle he stood and picked up the decanter. “Care for a sherry?”

Erica and her father exchanged glances. Diego answered for them. “Sounds lovely.”

Smoothly the man poured the deeply red liquid into three of the glasses. “Barbadillo and worth every penny.”

While Erica just smiled as she took the offered glass, Diego caressed his with care and said, “That is an excellent choice.”

“Naturally.” Bishop settled back into his chair and took a long sip.

Diego’s finger slowly swirled around the top edge of the crystal - a maneuver which allowed his ring to pass over the wine before he too took a swallow. Erica followed suit without hesitation.

“Quite good,” said Diego. “Thank you.”

Bishop nodded and took another sip before returning his attention to Erica. “Tell me.”

“I was spiritually kidnapped by the fae,” Erica answered bluntly. “And recently released.”

“Surprising. They are not known for letting go of their conquests. How did you accomplish it?”

“I didn’t. Circumstances beyond my control set me free as a byproduct.”

“Hmm. And what do you think I can do to help? Fae-sickness is not the kind of addiction we are used to dealing with by those who frequent my club. Thus I am dying of curiosity.” The man smiled again. It still wasn’t entirely friendly.

“If we knew of a cure ourselves do you think we’d be here asking?” Diego shook his head. “But I am prepared to do whatever I must to help my daughter.”

“Are you.”

“Yes.”

“If only I could believe that,” Bishop said with a shrug. “But as I said, your reputation does precede you Señor.”

Diego frowned before his eyes fluttered and rolled up into his head. Both he and Erica suddenly slumped deeper into their chairs.

They had fallen unconscious.

~o~O~o~

 

Bishop was still contemplating his knocked-out guests over the glass of sherry when his black shirted bouncer arrived in answer to his summons. “Sir?”

“The DPA is up to something, Conor. Either them or perhaps the fae. Take these two below and have them prepared. We need to find out exactly what they are up to.”

“And after?”

“That depends on what we learn.”

“Yes sir.”

As Conor moved towards Diego the computer on the desk beeped loudly. A girl’s amused laughter sounded from its tinny speakers.

“I wouldn’t do that just yet Conor,” said the voice from the computer.

Conor jumped in surprise but Bishop raised a non-plussed finger. “Ah. Intriguing. Erica I presume?”

“The one and only. Feel like continuing our conversation?”

“You have my attention. And curiosity. Who is the woman I was just talking to then?”

“Oh that was also me. But the body is this perky girl who believes she’s at an audition with a really creepy director. She’s bled through a couple times as you may have noticed.”

“Possession? But Erica Lain is supposed to be human, not demonic.”

“Yeah but the story about the fae is no horseshit. I figured out a way to ride people remotely as an attempt to escape. You should see the scars they gifted me when they found out and dragged me back. And as for being human, I’m far more human than you are.”

“Oh? Hang on please. Conor, leave these two be for now. I will call again should I need you. And do shut the door on your way out.”

The guy bowed and did as he was told.

“There,” said Bishop. “Now we have privacy. So tell me: if I am not human what am I?”

“Some kind of vampire would be my guess. Your pattern is similar to some other non-humans I’ve met but it’s being artificially sustained.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“How’d the drug pass my father’s spell test?”

Bishop took another sip of sherry and relaxed further in the chair. “It wasn’t in the wine before he drank it.”

“Like to like teleportation? I didn’t sense it.”

“The resonance of the spell perfectly matched the background radiation here.”

“Clever. Can we cut past the mutual admiration society now and talk business?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Whether a cure for the fae sickness exists for starters.”

“I believe it can be managed.”

“How?”

“Now now, don’t be hasty. Information exchanges should be equal don’t you think?”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll give you this: I was freed by an angel who seriously rocked a queen’s boat.”

“An angel.”

“Oh yes. Their feathers are stirring something fierce. Which is information a Nephelim such as yourself should find rather valuable to know.”

Bishop put down his glass. “I am beginning to wonder whether letting you in here was in truth a mistake.”

“Then let’s mitigate things to mutual benefit. Your turn.”

“Fae sickness results from a human’s magical wellspring having been overly swollen by total immersion in fae energies, say from living too long in one of their realms. This cannot be undone. The arteries and veins of power will have shifted their structures to demand resonance of a different frequency than is naturally generated. It can therefore only be continuously filled from an external source. I can only imagine how dull this world and its energies must seem to you in comparison.”

“You certainly do seem to know a lot about energy flows. The crystals that line the walls of this place indicate that a tremendous channel mechanism is built right in. Is it safe to assume your nightclub generates a lot of magical mojo? Drained slice by slice from the festivity attendees without their awareness?”

“You are not helping my opinion of the situation by recognizing such a feature. Need I remind you that your father snores unconscious at my feet?”

“We’ll get to him later. Besides, I see a flaw with the implied suggestion.”

“I wasn’t aware anything had been implied.”

“You may be able to feed off the human flow your club provides but your production here is still not of the fae. And as you put it my well is poisoned by their cursed taint specifically.”

“What if I were to postulate that I could provide stored fae energy at regular intervals instead? Given enough you would not only maintain your condition in comfort but also have quite a power edge over other practitioners.”

The speaker crackled with static then quieted. “I didn’t escape one prison just to exchange it for another. I refuse to be an addict tied to yet another supplier. Full cure or no deal.”

“I tell you true: such a cure is beyond those of us who walk this world. And thus I grow more concerned about your slumbering father’s fate.”

“And yet he could help you.”

“Surprising as that seems unlikely.”

“If he were to tell his old friends at the DPA that you assisted with a small and separate matter then certain consequences could be avoided.”

“Be careful how much you threaten, girl.”

“I haven’t even begun to offer threats. You’ll recognize it when I do.”

“Amusing. Very well, we can play a little while longer. To which matter do you refer?”

“A device was used to attack Whateley Academy last night. I’m sure you’re familiar with the place. The device had tremendous psychic potency and managed to strip the most rock-solid wards I have ever seen within seconds. While it is clear that in your own dependent condition you would be unable to channel such power yourself you might have expertise on how such a thing could be created. The DPA is keen to discover its origin.”

That caused Bishop to go silent with thought for a good five count before replying. “And if I did have insights to offer?”

“Then I believe I could find a way to deflect their possible interest in a certain container about to arrive by ship for which a rather large sum of money has been paid to ensure the usual customs inspection are skipped. If I’m not mistaken its port of origin was in Turkey.”

Bishop burst into laughter, a booming chord of merriment. “My dear girl. You have managed to not only surprise but cause outright astonishment.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As well you should. I haven’t felt such in centuries.”

“Then do we have an arrangement? With the additional requirement that my father and the annoyingly cheerful actress be released unharmed.”

“Counterproposal: the actress goes now, your father will remain my guest until the cargo is safely in my hands. Certainly you can understand my position and requisite guarantee of conformance.”

“When do you expect to take possession?”

“You don’t already know? Should I be disappointed at this lack?”

“I could be asking to be polite.”

“If all goes smoothly - which would be in your best interests - your father can complete his stay by dawn. Agreed?”

“Are you requesting my assistance on keeping the exchange uneventful?”

“Why would I bargain for that which I believe you would do gratis?”

“Good point. But the information about the device is given now.”

“That is fair. However I am curious about something.”

“What?”

“Given your father’s nature and loyalty to the government, how were you expecting to discuss matters with me tonight regarding such things which he should never hear about?”

“I trusted you’d arrange a way for that to happen.”

Another chuckle. “Perfect. Very well, we are agreed. Amusingly enough you have in a way already given the answer to how such devices could be created.”

“Oh?”

“To harness and channel sufficient power to do as you describe would require something akin to a god. Or, as you’ve mentioned, an angel.”

It was Erica’s turn for a long consideration. “I see. Alright then. The car is waiting outside if you’ll get the woman loaded up. Your shipping cargo will be safe from interference. Another car will arrive before dawn for my father.”

“Excellent. Though if you don’t mind I do have one additional inquiry I wish to pose.”

“Go for it.”

“What makes you think I haven’t taken offense at what you’ve accomplished tonight? This is a dangerous world after all.”

“Yes it is. I think I’ll answer that in two parts.”

“I await them in earnest.”

“Firstly, I’ve been in your computer now for quite some time. Along with the network it’s plugged into. You’d be surprised how much information such access can provide someone unscrupulous enough to create file-drops which would go to various parties in case of untoward circumstances.”

“Ah. You were correct with your statement regarding threats. And the other part?”

“If you endeavor to have me killed you’d also be removing your only current source of bewilderment.”

Another thundering laugh. “Erica Lain it has been an absolute pleasure. Conor will deliver the first tender package immediately.”

“Good to hear.”

The computer speakers crackled and went silent.

Bishop stared at the two comatose guests still resting in the chairs.

“Interesting woman, your daughter,” he mused to Diego’s sleeping body. “Should she survive what is to come she could be a useful ally.”

Long fingers reached out towards the phone to summon his waiting servant.

“Should she survive.”

 

Call Of The Light (Part 5 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 19 - Counsel

The person on the other end of the phone didn’t even give me the chance to say hello first.

“Aradia. We need to talk.”

“Uh, hello? Who is this?”

“Hang on.”

The cordless handset suddenly shrieked loudly in my ear. “Gah!”

“Sorry. All phone lines at the Academy are being monitored by the military. We’re now secure.”

“How did you—oh.” Girl voice, check. Tone weirdly older than pitch, check. Able to do hacker stuffs, checkmate. It had to be Erica. But she was obviously sticking to using codenames. “Hi Fields.”

“You alone?”

“Just me and my cat.” At his mention Khan jumped up on the desk to demand attention. He started a deep purr as I scratched his fluffy noggin.

“Good. Diego and I spoke with Bishop.”

“Already? Wait, what time is it?”

“Twenty-Two-Oh-Nine local to you.”

“Is it still the same day?” I leaned over to read the display on the phone’s charging station. “Phew, it is.”

“Your need to ask raises a number of questions.”

“I just got back from off world. Again. Like right before you called.”

“Good timing.”

“He said your call was important. What’d you learn from the nightclub guy?”

“He? Someone knew I was going to call?”

“Michael knew. But it’s okay.”

“Who is Michael and how the hell did he know?”

“He’s the Archangel Michael. As to how he knew I refer to my previous statement.”

“Huh.”

“He made sure I got back in time for your call.”

“You know, I think your life may be even stranger than mine. And that’s saying a lot.”

I sighed. “Can’t argue that. But since you’re calling, you and your dad must have learned something.”

“A few things. Leading the list is that I believe Bishop is involved with the bombs.”

“Really? Kami just thought he might steer us in the right direction. Is he the jerk making them?”

“Not by himself. He was awfully unsurprised that such a thing could exist. And instead of pontificating potential avenues on how one could be assembled he immediately had a confident answer. Worse still, I believe there could be more at least as strong.”

“That’s not good.”

“No it isn’t. I only mentioned to him the one used at Whateley. The DPA kept the nature of the other one in Los Angeles under wraps yet Bishop referred to them in the plural.”

“The device at the school was crazy strong, sounded a lot worse than L.A’s. Could they really make more than one that powerful?”

“I’ve run an analysis. A dedicated large coven working for twenty years sacrificing hundreds of people per year might be able to pull enough moxy together to deal with Whateley’s shields like what happened. Provided they solved the storage problem. My father always thinks only of the power of a single practitioner, not a collective.”

I frowned. Erica had only been at Whateley studying magic for a single year before spending four more as a slave to the fae. “Uh, hate to ask, but how can you be so sure? That sounds like a fairly sophisticated calculation.”

Whatever encryption she’d put on the phone connection continued its low level hum across an awkward silence.

“Fields? You still there?”

“Yes.” She sounded suddenly tired. So very tired. “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“Lying to you.”

Khan nudged the hand that had stopped petting him. “Lying? What about?”

“I was ordered by the Queen to appear, in her words, ‘pathetic’. To play on your sympathies.”

“Oh. I guessed that could have been the case at the time.”

“And you freed me anyway? That’s just…” She fell silent.

“Look, your pain wasn’t an act. Nor was your surprise when you realized who I was.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t. The bitch didn’t warn me.” The hatred in Erica’s voice towards the Queen was palpable; the acidity would have destroyed my phone if manifested.

“So what then was the actual lie?”

“Subjectively I wasn’t there for only four years. My pocketwatch measured it at closer to thirty.”

“Oh my god.” Wait, she had been fifteen when taken so this would make her…holy shit. She would be the same age as I really was. “Thirty years as a slave? Erica, I’m so sorry!”

“Not all of them were entirely unpleasant. I learned a great deal.”

“I uh…wow.” My butt fell into the desk chair which made a protesting squeak.

“So believe me when I say that Bishop not only knew more than he admitted but I bet there are also more of those things out there. Maybe that could even pack a larger punch than we’ve seen.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Putting the pieces together from the conversation along with odd bits of his email and bank history, I have an idea of who else might have one - or is about to.”

“Why do I get the feeling I really don’t want to hear this?”

“Life doesn’t give a shit about what you want. You especially of all people need to hear it.”

I rubbed at my temples where a headache was already brewing. “You’re right and I’m sorry. Tell me.”

“He offered bottled fae energy to help my energy issues. Not help to lead me to a supplier or negotiate some, he was in effect claiming to have a ready supply if needed.”

“So he’s close to the fae.”

“Exactly. Now ask yourself: what does the Queen want more than anything?”

As much as I don’t like using curse words that often I was certainly doing it a lot lately. “Fuck! She wants to blow the Third Seal to smithereens and release the flood of mana across the world. Enough to break free any and all incarnate fae from their human bondage. She had hoped Danielle would open it for her but we got away.”

“How much energy would it take to break the seal? How large a psychic nuke would it take?”

I thought about it. The image of Danielle already tapping the flow of the small leak to help rebuild the Whateley wards was still crystal clear. “Shit.” See? There went another one! “The seal is already cracking. Maybe because the first two are gone. It’s still intact though. Without having the key it would still take an insanely strong hammer to break it. Like crazy strong.”

“What if instead of the death energy of thousands stored up you had millions? What then?”

The thought was mind boggling. “How would you even do that? No ritual could be that large and not be noticed.”

“Not if done by humans. But I’ve been thinking about it. What if spirits are able to do things on that scale and yet be behind the scenes? Think of all the traumatic deaths in the twentieth century. How much deathly pain could have been gathered at Auschwitz? Or during the starvations in China under Mao? The reign of the Khmer Rouge? Stalin’s purges? The sheer quantities would make an Aztec priest piss themselves with envy.”

“What are you saying?”

“Not me. Bishop. According to him to gather that much energy would require a god. Or an angel. And if I’m right and he’s involved then I’d bet on the latter, and not just because he hinted that way.”

“Why?”

“He’s a Nephelim. I took a guess after looking at his rather unique pattern and hit the jackpot with his reaction. His spirit leaks; he’s effectively a vampire feeding on his club-goers’ energies in order to stay coherent. I also wouldn’t put it past him to feed the old fashioned way if need be, fangs and all. But with a messed up pattern like that there’s absolutely no way he can channel that level of power himself without dissolving. He doesn’t have the stability for it.”

“How do you know so much about Nephelim to recognize them?”

“My father’s hidden books had a lot to say about demons, faeries, liches, and also fallen angels and their giant progeny.”

“Oh.”

“Given the whole Apocalypse scenario, Bishop could be working with the Fourth Horseman to make these things. It would fit the narrative.”

“It can’t be him. It’s not Death.”

“How would you know?”

“The Angel of Death would rather chew off his own tongue than abuse souls like that.” As soon as I said it I knew it to be true. Isaiah would never do such a thing, and my past self Aradia knew her uncle Azrael would visit swift merciless justice upon the perpetrators of any such perversions of his sacred duties.

“You sound awfully confident of that.”

“Trust me.”

“I see. If not him then it’s possibly a similarly attuned Grigori who also can plug into the moments of people’s death across wide areas. According to my father you’ve somehow redeemed some of those. Find out what they know.”

“But this doesn’t make sense. The Grigori want to prevent the seals from opening. Why would they give the Queen the means to do it?”

“Maybe we have it backwards. Maybe the Queen was working with Bishop and the Grigori bargained with her to get the one used on the school. She can’t move against Danielle or you directly or else be forsworn. But nothing prevents her from a separate deal with a third party to provide them with a bomb as long as the deal itself does not stipulate how it’s to be used. She’s under no geas to actively protect you two. We’re still lacking far too much intel here and suppositions will only take us so far.”

“Crap.”

“I’ll keep working Bishop’s cyber footprint and see where the trails lead. One of his bouncers is clearly Irish and if there’s a pattern there it could be even more evidence of him being in bed with the fae. We need to discover whether the Queen already has the bombs or is still negotiating to get them somehow. If it’s the latter we might be able to crash the exchange party. If the former we need to know where they are and fast.”

“I’ll ask my Grigori friends about which of their chorus could make them. But Fields?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to Danielle about your…problem? She may be able to help.”

More static but I didn’t ask if she was still there. Eventually Erica replied. “Fine. But only if freely given. I owe you a debt, Aradia. I refuse to add more to the ledger. Especially not to one of the god-damned fae.”

“Understood. If I find out something how do I reach you?”

“Send an email to any fake address. I’ll see it.”

“Wow. You’re really that good as a hacker?”

“Magic and microchips are in the end both means of manipulating energy. As an angel you should understand that already.”

“I’m starting to.”

“Learn faster. Unless you want to take a time-out detour and go study in another realm where failure on any exam meant torture or death. Like I did.”

“Uh, no thanks. So is the Internet an open book to you?”

“Just about. Except for things that have been deliberately wiped. I can think of a few pertinent examples.”

“Like what?”

“Like your records at the DPA. They were initially marked Classified but now have been expunged completely. And not by me.”

“Oh.”

“Tread carefully. The military has caught a whiff of the danger everyone is facing. They might help or really fuck things up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Keep your secrets close. We’ll talk soon.”

She hung up before I could say goodbye.

~o~O~o~

 

I wanted to go see Danielle but the military was enforcing a curfew on the students so we were all stuck in our cottages until morning. With the warning about all the phones being monitored I didn’t want to call her either so just texted a message saying I was back and that we should meet for breakfast to talk. She responded immediately with agreement and said she was going to invite Zap along too. She then added a note that she would borrow Tamara’s ‘special salt’ to make the eggs taste better.

My niece was smart.

That left trying to talk to either August or Ester about who among the Grigori could be a channel for the power released at death, particularly those from highly charged and unpleasant demises. August would have been the obvious choice to ask but seeing as how she already warned about Michael’s arrival I didn’t want to push her luck. I wondered how much trouble she got into with Sandalphon for sharing even that much.

Which meant asking Ester although I had no idea how much she remembered of her time as Kokabiel. There was her girl-self and her angel-self and they weren’t exactly integrated all that well, something which we all were struggling with I guess. Natalie’s therapy dance-card was certainly full with troubled incarnates.

Sitting on my bed I realized I could cheat. My name—I mean, Amariel’s name—had been etched within Kokabiel’s essence same as with Tsáyidiel. Through that connection I had been able to talk to him mind-to-mind when I needed to.

I could probably do the same with her.

“Kokabiel! Can you hear me?“ It was like shouting across an ocean of stars but the brightest speck in that sky twinkled and gave a reply.

“Yes milady, I hear you.”

“I need to ask some questions. About the Grigori.”

The star dimmed for a moment. “I doubt I would be of much help.”

“Try, okay? Who among your number would be capable of harnessing the necromantic energies released when someone dies?”

“Necromantic energies? Do you believe it was one of our number who unleashed the pain and sorrows that washed over the school?”

“It is a distinct possibility.”

“I can think of a few who might have such capacity, but only from before our fall from grace. What they are capable of now I really could not speak to.”

Considering Kokabiel spent the past few millennia as a mindless slave of Azazel she was probably way out of touch with just about everything. “Shoot.”

She hesitated. “Milady.“

“Yeah?”

“There is another you could talk to. One who reached out to me after the conclave wishing to understand more.“

“More? That’s awfully nebulous.” Okay, so that was a horrible pun to use with an angel whose name literally meant ‘Star of God’. Hush.

“My apologies, milady. Allow me to explain. He wished to know how I have been restored to grace. He wishes to understand the wonder of your name.“

Wait a minute. There were still some fundamental questions I’d yet to find answers for. With everything going on some kept slipping my mind. Chief of those was how the heck did anyone know to attack Isaiah? Queen Fionnabhair only knew about Danielle. But someone else knew to go after my best friend too.

“Exactly how much did you tell this guy?” That came out more accusatory than I’d intended, dangit. Poor Kokabiel’s star cowered and shrank within my mental sky.

“He’s examined your name only! Was it wrong to speak with him?“

Taking a deep breath I forced myself to remain calm. “You didn’t tell him about Danielle or Isaiah?”

“Who is Isaiah? And no, we did not discuss the fae.“

I relaxed. Only slightly but still. No one here knew that Isaiah was Azrael. That was a secret held between Isaiah, me, his own attorney (who didn’t believe it), Diego, Erica, and Kami Kurohoshi himself. Plus that was only found out after the attack on him had already failed.

Granted with Isaiah having visited me at Whateley a couple times that didn’t rule out a person on campus making the connection somehow that he was angelic. Otherwise it would take someone who had access to my DPA files to know he was even a friend - files which Erica just reported had been scrubbed.

Right. I still didn’t have a freaking clue. Yay me?

“Okay. You said I could talk to this guy. Who is it anyway?”

“My brother Armaros. He would be very pleased to meet you.“

“He was the dude in the top hat on the stage?”

“Yes.“

“That may be a long-shot, but sure. Though I feel like I’d be going in blind.” Of course that was pretty much how everything was going on lately. Me stumbling around inside a freezing whirlwind and wondering with dismay why my tea was so cold.

“Armaros refused to fight on either side of the war between Gabriel’s forces and those of Azazel and Shemyaza.“

“Interesting. Not sure that helps, but alright. So how do we do this?”

“I take you to him. Ester sleeps; the path through dreams lies open and he is agreed. Are you ready?“

Now? Yikes! “Hang on, give a girl the chance to lie down first!” Not that I knew if I’d leave a body behind or go poof completely but I’d rather not risk coming back to serious muscle cramps. Pulling free my hair from the scunchy, I stretched out on the bed. Khan immediately curled up next to me protectively, placing a paw against my arm. Daww.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Kokabiel. Let’s do this.”

Her star pulsed brightly, demanding more and more of my attention. It felt both warm and cold, a comforting yet at the same time distant presence granting safe guidance through vast oceans covering the universe.

Awareness of my room, the bed, and of Khan slipped away to be replaced by somewhere else entirely.

~o~O~o~

 

I was staring out the window of a high-rise building.

Above the rectangular structures dark clouds painted over the sky. Most of the light came from many offices still illuminated by those burning the midnight oil. Down below bright reds and whites silently crawled to and fro like mice with LEDs stuck to their heads and butts while frantically searching a maze for enigmatic food pellets.

As my eyes adjusted a reflection across the glass came into focus. A man in a simple suit with solid blue tie sat a few feet away at a conference table lined with those fancier fake-leather chairs reserved for executives.

“Hello Amariel. Welcome.”

As I turned around I noted that unlike his business attire I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Also no shoes or socks again, my toes were wiggling free. Apparently my dream-self really didn’t like wearing shoes.

“Hey there,” I said, totally pretending I wasn’t anxious due to suddenly realizing the risk I’d just taken. What if this guy was in cahoots with those behind the attacks? Could I have just set myself up for an ambush? Hell of a thing to think of only after hopping into the middle of someone else’s dream.

Given all the names I’d accumulated maybe I should add ‘Ms. Impetuous’ to the list, or even ‘She Who Is Foolishly Stupid’.

Yup, those fit.

“You Armaros?” I asked dubiously. The Armaros on stage in the other dream had a whole half-shaven emo hair-do under his top hat, whereas this guy’s style was short and conservative.

“Mostly.” He smiled. While his eyes were wary they also crinkled with humor. “My secret identity is that of a simple and boring stockbroker. Hence this dream Kokabiel caught me in.” He gestured at the conference room and its corporate-mandated motivational posters pinned at regular intervals across the walls. I recognized the type, all genuflecting about perseverance and the absolute dedication to the company’s bottom line.

“No tuxedo and top hat tonight? Or punk hairstyle?” I leaned back against the window. “Should I be disappointed?”

He laughed. “The previous venue required something more grandiose, don’t you think?”

“With an audience wearing mostly pajamas? Not so sure about that.”

“Excellent point.” He acknowledged with a grin. “Kokabiel indicated that you have questions?”

“Uh, yeah. Many actually.”

“I have plenty of my own, but as I am the host perhaps you should go first. Mind you, like many of us I’m still sorting through all the old knowledge and memories, so my ability to be of assistance may be limited. This whole business of suddenly remembering events from before one’s current lifetime has been quite an experience.”

I could totally agree with that. “Just as soon as you think you’ve got a handle on things, other stuff comes out of left field to smack you upside the head.”

“Exactly. And while I’d prefer it to only happen while, say, taking a shower - getting slammed while giving a portfolio presentation to clients is entirely awkward.”

It was my turn to grin. “I bet.”

“So what is it that a power such as yourself could possibly need from one like me?”

For a moment I thought he was trying to flatter me - maybe even flirt - but no. He was completely serious. Especially as he then added more ominously, “Or perhaps you are here to judge me.”

“What?”

“You saved Kokabiel and restored her name into the Light. You’ve empowered Tamiel and they are becoming something more than they ever were before. I was the one who called together a gathering of Fallen angels who are now split between those who would flee from you in terror and those who would cling desperately to any miracles you might offer. So why are you really here?”

That really caught me off guard. With how things kept happening did even I know the real answer? “I thought I was here to try and find a way to keep maybe thousands if not millions from death or madness. But things keep happening around me whether I will them or no. What would you like for me to be here for?”

He looked away. “I find myself caught between despair and hope. Especially as certain painful memories keep replaying within dreams much less pleasant than this one.” He exhaled and ran a hand over his face. “For now let’s settle on you keeping these millions safe. Care to explain?”

“Someone is making devices of great power by trapping the energy released by tragic deaths. I need to stop them and keep those bombs out of the wrong hands.”

“I don’t know how I could be of any help for that.”

“They’re likely made by a fallen angel - one whose former purpose would empower them to create such things. I’m trying to find out who they could be. You’re connected to all the Grigori, right? You were able to summon them to that gathering.”

He shook his head. “I am not unique in that. We are all connected to one another.”

A new voice startled us from the other end of the conference table. “Whether we want to be or not. Isn’t that so Armaros?”

We both jumped at the sight of a dark figure standing where only a chair had just been.

“Shemyaza!” Armaros growled. “How did you get here?”

The cloaked man pointed at me smugly. “I followed her. She burns so brightly in our sights, does she not? Like a meteor streaking across the sky to smash into this world and lay all to waste.”

Armaros glared at the newcomer with undisguised repulsion. “Or a beacon sent by Him to guide us home.”

“Don’t be naive!” Shemyaza shrieked as his eyes bugged out and shoulders trembled. He tried to calm shaking hands by placing them flat on the table. “They will never let her in! Not as she is now.”

“Let me in?” I interjected. “Where?”

While still staring at the other Grigori, Armaros answered. “Heaven. Past the silver gates to the upper levels.”

“Upper levels?”

Shemyaza sneered. “Where the angels enslaved by the Throne reside. Up in their spires of silver and gold while around their necks lie glittering chains of bondage!”

Armaros clenched fists and took a step forward. “We were never slaves.”

“Weren’t we? Bound to His will and created to like it! What practical difference could there possibly be?” A wild hand tossed the hood back, revealing a face both beautiful and terrible to behold. Features carved from the finest marble as if by a Renaissance Master were warped by a spinning madness behind those maniacal eyes. Twisted muscles forced the cheeks into a lopsided grimace.

“We served a greater purpose!” Armaros countered. “We were unified and one with Him in its unfolding, and you - our beloved captain - led us with a dedication to rival even that of Michael!”

“Words. Just words.” Shemyaza pounded the table, a crack splitting down its middle. “Scribbled on a page and ripped out. Tossed away like so much trash. We were abandoned!”

Armaros shook his head. “No. We became too much like the humans. Limiting ourselves to their level instead of observing from above poisoned us all!”

“And you think she can cure that poison?” Shemyaza again pointed at me, hand still unsteady. “Look at her! Look at what she is! She will pull us all into a new war! I tried to keep us safe, to build enough strength to withstand Michael’s purge and reach a settlement like the First must have done. He was allowed to take his people and go. But she, she will lead your heart straight onto the burning tip of his blade and plunge it past the flames to the hilt!”

I stepped between them, fearing they’d come to blows. “Wait! Just wait a minute! What do you mean a new war?”

Shemyaza’s head tilted back as he laughed. “Tell her, Armaros. Tell her where her existence leads to.”

Armaros flinched and avoided my questioning gaze. “You’re an Archon,” he said quietly.

“A what?”

“You’ll have to explain, brother,” Shemyaza prompted gleefully.

Armaros ran a finger along the fracture forking like lightning across the table. “You are not bound to the Throne.”

“And?” Shemyaza prodded again. “Don’t forget the rest of it.”

Finally looking up, Armaros searched my eyes as he said, “When you come into your full power you could challenge Elohim for the Throne itself.”

I blinked. “What are you saying?”

Shemyaza lost the laugh. “He is saying that should you bind enough angels to your light - fill their hollow hearts with your newfound glory - you could overthrow the tyrant in Heaven and take the Throne. Like Samael attempted. And Lucifer later refused to do.”

My knees went weak. “That’s insane.”

“Is it,” Armaros murmured.

“You are destined for a crown, Amariel,” Shemyaza announced. “Is that not Conquest’s prophesied symbol as he rides across the fields of Armageddon? A crown with which to bind our wills to yours and rule over us all!”

“That’s the last thing I want!”

“Then allow me to show my brothers you are too weak to fulfill such a destiny!” With blinding speed Shemyaza thrust towards my stomach, a cruel black dagger suddenly clenched in his fist.

Armaros reacted faster than I, tackling me to one side and sending us both crashing into a window frame. Fortunately the glass held. Spinning around Armaros prepared against a second lunge from his former commander, the walking stick I’d seen before now held defensively in his hands.

Except there was no follow-through strike.

Shemyaza stood frozen holding his blade where it had almost sliced my stomach, arm still extended. That arm began to shake. “No!” He snarled. “Not now damn you!” With his other hand he tried to move the arm. Shoulder and back muscles flexed mightily but the arm wouldn’t budge from its position in the air.

The tendons opened slowly and the dagger tumbled out of the hand to fall to the floor with a loud thud. Blood dripped down from under the sleeve, splattering both blade and carpet. The flow quickly became a stream.

I didn’t think. Pulling myself away from the wall I moved past Armaros. “You’re bleeding!”

As I reached for his sleeve Shemyaza flinched with absolute panic, thrashing against his immovable arm. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me!” With a mindless shriek of terror he fled the dream, leaving dagger and blood behind. As he vanished for a brief flickering moment I caught sight of a different room altogether.

Oh god.

“Are you alright?” Armaros was looking at my shirt, checking for a wound.

“I’m fine. But I need to go. Like right now.”

He hesitated then nodded. “I will try to find out who of the Grigori could do as you described. But I really don’t remember enough to help directly.”

“Thanks.” I started to focus on shifting myself back to my bedroom.

“Amariel!” He shouted before I also could disappear. “Know this! There are many who would gladly follow your light out of the darkness no matter where it would lead us!”

If he meant that as a comforting last thought it had the exact opposite effect. But as my eyes opened to a concerned kitty staring down at my face I knew I had more immediate things to worry about.

It was my turn to make a phone call and I had better hurry.

 

Chapter 20 - Trust

I was pacing pensively across my floor with the phone still clenched in my hand when it finally chimed. “Well?” was all I said after thumbing it on.

“Mrs. Tolliver is taking him to Doyle to get patched up now.” Brendan, no longer as sleepy as he had been when I’d woken him up ten minutes ago, was all seriousness and concern.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“I didn’t get to see. His sheets are a bloody mess though.”

“Damn.”

“How did you know? Could you have stopped him?”

“I saw things when I fell between the worlds. A dream I just had put that piece together.”

“Jesus,” he breathed. “Cassius never seemed the type. You know, to try and off himself like that.”

I winced. “Sometimes the signs are hard to spot. But I don’t think Cassius was trying to commit suicide.”

“What? Then what the fuck was he doing slicing his arm open like that? Some kind of messed up after effect of that psychic bomb? Everyone else seems okay!”

“It’s complicated. I’m not sure I should say.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that! I just don’t want to give away his secrets. They’re his, not mine.”

“Oh.” He thought about it then said, “That makes sense, I get it. Can I do anything else to help?”

“You’re a good guy, Brendan. Curfew lifts at six; I’ll try to visit Cassius then. With classes still canceled can you get the squad together by eight?”

“The squad?”

“Yeah. Zap, Danielle, Haruko, Tamara, and Jenna.”

He paused. “Sure.” He didn’t mention that Haruko wasn’t on the team. But the military likely listening in on all the phones didn’t know that. “Where you want to meet?”

“Hmm. Good question.”

“Meet at the gym. We can go over squad tactics and focus on the next sim Gunny plans to throw at us. Something normal like that could be good for everyone, you know, with everything that’s happened.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you then.”

“Laters.” He hung up.

Brendan was sharp. The squad tactical planning rooms were heavily snoop-proofed to keep other teams from spying and gaining an advantage. Given the persistence and ingenuity of the other squads the security there was extremely tight so we should be able to talk freely once I’d shoved my persistent army escort out of the room.

Which was good. Because I agreed with Erica - we couldn’t trust the military to not do something stupid. Of course that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be an idiot all on my own as my recent actions demonstrated.

With a couple hours to go before I could walk over to the hospital and knowing I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. Oh, and cuddled my kitty who took instant advantage of the opportunity. He fell right into a deep purring slumber, the lucky guy.

As the cross-beams over the attic didn’t trigger any new revelations, when the clock finally slipped past six I threw on a sweater and walked out to greet the new fatigues-wearing protection detail. The temptation to outrun them on the walk to the hospital was difficult to resist.

Natalie was waiting in the lounge just past the hospital’s entrance.

“Good morning, Jordan.” The slump to her shoulders and circles around the eyes told the story of a long night - and a long day before that.

“Mornin’ doc.” I gave her a tired smile of my own. “I’d introduce you to the goon squad here but they haven’t told me their names.” I gestured towards the troops who were busy checking for potential threats.

“I presume you’re here to visit Cassius?” She raised an eyebrow over the transparent-framed glasses.

“If he’ll see me. You probably have questions for me first though.” I said, resigned to the delay. Being constantly interrogated was getting old but she probably needed to know what little I could tell her.

She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it can wait. Come with me.”

That was a surprise.

Up the elevator and down the all-too-familiar hall we arrived outside yet another bleach-cleaned room. Before she opened the door she hesitated. “He’s refused to talk to anyone about it. I’m hoping you’ll have more success.”

“Even if he does, I probably won’t be able to tell you about it if he doesn’t want me to.”

She gave a small worried smile. “That’s alright. The important thing right now is for him to talk to someone. Anyone.”

I nodded and she allowed one of the guys holding a M16 to check out the room first before I went in.

Cassius wasn’t in the bed. He sat instead at the small window nook, doing his best to ignore us while staring out at the lawn and forest beyond. They’d put him in those skimpy hospital gown things and an I.V. drip hung from a nearby stand with the line of fluids going to the opposite wrist from the one heavily bandaged. But that bare forearm had its own set of scars across the skin.

“Hey Cassius.” I tried to sound casual.

“Jordan,” he said without turning, blond hair hiding his face. “You just can’t leave things alone, can you. You here to try and save me too?” Bitterness lay over a deep exhaustion.

I leaned against the wall, pressing the bottom of a sneaker against the paint. “Actually I’m here to say thanks.”

That was rewarded with a direct - albeit outright suspicious - gaze. “Really?”

“Yeah. You stopped Shemyaza from gutting me with that dagger. Thank you.”

“Stopped myself, you mean. Since as you have undoubtedly figured out, whether I wish to be or not, I am him.”

“I’m not sure I’d agree with that.”

“Oh come on. That damned bomb wiped out all the wards and limiting protections I’d so carefully arranged. They’re gone. You should be able to see his cursed spirit inside me as clear as day. And before you ask, no he didn’t tell the other Grigori that Danielle was here.”

As usual Cassius was one step ahead. I hadn’t yet even put together that he could have been the source of the leak about Danielle’s whereabouts. Except he wouldn’t have known about Isaiah and my instincts still screamed that the two hits had to have been coordinated.

He continued. “Telling anyone would have made me a direct target as well. Shemyaza is crazy but not suicidal.”

“You think they all want you dead too?”

“The Grigori? Given what I - what he - did? They have plenty of reasons to want me destroyed.” He stared back out the window. “You’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Lucky?”

“Please,” he snorted. “You’re this new bright and shiny Seraph, overflowing with all the blind idealism inherent in a newborn. Your spirit-self isn’t an old and insane narcissistic asshole.” He shuddered. “I’ve seen it. My memories are full of what that fucker did in his mad attempt to keep things together. You have no idea.”

“I saw enough from when he turned Kokabiel over to Azazel.”

“Kokabiel,” he flinched, eyes tightly shut as if trying to squeeze away a vision they had no control over. “What he did to her. And to so many more.” He huddled into himself, arms crossing over chest and knees.

“It wasn’t you,” I said quietly. I wanted so badly to walk over there and pull him close, to try and offer comfort to such obvious pain. but I couldn’t touch him. I was beginning to understand why. “He’s afraid of me, isn’t he? That’s why he lashed out in that dreamspace.”

“Afraid?” Cassius coughed a laugh. “Try absolutely terrified. You are the path back to everything he’s ever wanted and to everything he fears. Even now he wants to smash out this window and run away from you. It’s difficult, so very fucking difficult, to keep him under control.”

“Is that what the razor-blade was for?”

He grinned, teeth glinting with feral determination. “This body is mine. My slab of meat. He cannot abide physical pain. The wards I built to suppress him were always unreliable. But pain? It’s my best weapon against him.”

I startled and words slipped from my tongue. “Oh Cassius, pain was always his weapon. At what cost do you use it now?”

“What choice do I have?” he yelled, eyes flashing with a growing mad rage not entirely his own. “We are not alike, you and I! I have not been blessed from above and given a righteous path upon which to tread! The Most High made His opinion on my soul crystal clear ages ago. We were sent away and left to rot. And when our spirits inevitably withered and fell prey to the corruptions of the lower levels, only then did the Host arrive. Not to save us but only to destroy, their desired excuse having finally manifested in full. And now the time has come for them to finish the job. So spare me your lectures, Amariel. You know nothing of the purpose of pain. Bring your eyes down from your lofty idealistic perches to the real world and its dirty truths. Only those apply here.”

“And what truths are those?”

“Survival. Pain teaches the limits of the physical.”

“Is that all you strive for? Nothing more?”

“What else is there?”

“I would say love.”

“True love is teaching a child how to survive. Not forcing them far away and forgetting they exist while you remain in the highest of clouds to contemplate an infinite that has no bearing upon those crawling in the mud.”

“Those sounds like his words.”

“They are the lessons of his existence. Learning them drove him mad because they were not compatible with his prior exalted life.”

“And what have you learned from your own life, Cassius?”

He gave a half-hearted and bitter laugh. “No more or less than most on this rock. Life giveth and taketh away. I was given breath and my mother’s was taken. She died as I was born.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Spare me the pity. Unlike many others here I still have my father and he’s done the best he could in her stead. While he may not be all that clever, I’d call him wise. He taught that you cannot help another if your own footing is unsteady. He was not always there but he did what had to be done.”

“You love him.”

“Of course I do! I’m no monster. But I refuse to be a naive idealist.” He shook his head ruefully. “Which is why I’ve worked so hard to keep hidden who I was and the real measure of the knowledge and power that came with it. That would attract unwanted attention and dangers far beyond what even now I’m ready to deal with. Something you should have done from the start.” He paused, uncertainty flooding across his face into panic. “Wait, have you told anyone?”

“Told them what?”

“Who I am.” Fingers formed a tight fist.

“No,” I said carefully. “And I won’t. This is your secret, Cassius.”

He breathed in deeply and the hand slowly unfolded. “Thank you.”

“Your path is fully your own,” I found myself saying. “But it need not be a solitary one.”

“How can it not? Do you think Kokabiel would forgive? There is no redemption for such evil. How could there be?”

“When you can forgive yourself then shall you see.”

“Don’t be absurd. The spirit that lurks within my chest is twisted and warped beyond measure. Don’t mistake an angel’s spirit for a human’s! We are made to a purpose, and when that purpose shatters that’s it. Only wreckage remains, a pitiful reminder of what once was.” He snorted. “Besides the Host will wipe us Grigori out long before that will ever happen.”

“Then help me. Help me stop those who would force such a future. Help buy the time and perhaps we can find a way to heal the wounds of long ago. To repair the damage and restore you all!”

He shook his head. “Impossible. Your head is still stuck in the clouds.”

“That’s Shemyaza’s belief. And maybe I am a fool. But I ask you - I ask Cassius - is that what you think? Can you look me in the eyes and say with full certainty that you agree with the ancient despair that drove what was once an angel of beauty and grace into madness? As much as I may be naive, do you truly think that his despair does not blind him as well?”

The young man swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“You fought him, Cassius. You hurt yourself to prevent his attack. You’ve already made a choice along a path different from his. Choose to believe in it! We will help you. As best we can, we will. All of Whateley will. That’s why this school is here - to give instruction, guidance, and support. So its students can then choose destinies according to their will and not ones imposed upon them. Don’t trust in me if you must because of what I am. I’ll understand. But perhaps it’s time to put your faith in the very humans we angels tried to help.”

“How?”

“Do you trust your dad?”

He stared at the floor. “He doesn’t know everything. But yeah. I guess I do. He’s a good man.”

“Then try to extend that to others. Be cautious, but remember those same lessons of survival you were talking about. There’s a reason humans hunt in packs. They’re stronger together.”

He said nothing. Eventually, and in a quieter voice, he said, “Maybe.”

“Just think about it.”

We both fell quiet, unsure of what else to say. Into the silence my stomach growled. “Huh. I should get some breakfast. You hungry?”

He rolled his eyes. ”I suppose I could eat.”

Stepping away from the wall I moved towards the door. “I’ll get them to send something in. They think you tried to kill yourself, you know.”

He scowled at the bandages on his arm. “If I’d wanted to die I would have succeeded. I just cut deeper than I’d intended.”

“I believe you. If there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know okay?”

“Actually there is one thing.”

I looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Angry eyes met mine. “Whoever dropped that bomb tried to wipe out the school with me in it. I take that personally. Kick their ass - whoever they may be.”

“Have to find them first.”

“Then find Zakiel.”

“Zakiel?”

“He’s the only angel of the Grigori who could have harnessed the psychic trauma of tragic deaths on such a scale.”

I blinked. “Any idea where he is?”

“No. He didn’t attend Armaros’ conclave. But he’s the one you want. Count on it.”

“Zakiel. Got it. Thanks. I owe you another one.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“You do so.” With a nod I stepped outside. I moved past the waiting squad to head for the elevator without a word or even a friendly nod.

Because inside I was furious. It wasn’t right for a child to have such a fate thrust upon them. Cassius should have lived his life without the overwhelming guilt of events and actions that he himself had no part of. Reincarnation was supposed to give a blank slate to try again. This wasn’t fair. Not to him, not to Danielle, nor August or Ester. Or for that matter Zap.

But life wasn’t fair, was it. Which was entirely Cassius’ point.

So I channeled that anger elsewhere. Because I had a name. And with that I had a shot to trace down the bastards who attacked both the school and my best friend. The ones who tried to kill all of those I held so dear.

They were going to pay.

~o~O~o~

 

After a brief uncomfortable conversation with Natalie wherein I had to keep my mouth shut about what actually was behind Cassius’ self-harm all while hinting heavily that no, he wasn’t really suicidal, I hit up the cafeteria and pretended I wasn’t surrounded by a team of heavily armed soldiers. Given the looks from the other students a lot weren’t sure if I was being protected or being treated like a prisoner.

Honestly it felt more like the latter. At least the food was good. Whateley’s usual chefs were back in business so the fare had returned to our spoiled-rotten standards. It was definitely the kind of morning that required a stack of pancakes with those perfect crispy outer edges smothered in real butter and maple syrup plus a large side of bacon. And by large, I mean huge.

After washing it all down with an extra mug of tea we trooped (ha, get it?) over to the gym whereupon me and the corporal had the expected argument.

“You guys are staying out here,” I declared when we were standing outside the simulation squad-room.

“Miss, we have orders,” the corporal protested. He must’ve been fresh out of high school, peach fuzz still on cheeks instead of proper stubble, yet he was looking at me like I was his clueless kid sister in desperate need of protection from schoolyard bullies.

“This is a secure facility,” I growled. “We are indoors and not exposed. Just like you guys don’t get to hang out in my bedroom, you aren’t lurking in here.”

Before he could respond the door opened. To my surprise Circe stood there, with Brendan and all the others already gathered around the battle-map table. Circe looked the guy up and down and spoke in a voice far kinder than mine, yet filled with even more steel. “Take up your positions outside the room, Corporal. Aradia, come inside. Now.”

I went in and he and the rest stayed out.

“You’re late,” grumbled Brendan from the chair at the head of the table.

“By what, two minutes? The military parade slowed me down.” I took the empty seat between Haruko and Jenna and crossed my arms.

Circe remained standing, entering a code on the security panel just inside the door. A loud hum permeated the air and the little hairs on my neck decided to stand up. “There,” she said. “The room is secure.”

I looked at the ancient (yet still young-looking and beautiful) sorceress. “Do I dare ask why you’re here? Or have you decided to join our squad?”

She raised a discerning eyebrow. “Mrs. Carson would have come herself but is otherwise detained. Although I’m certain that you all would have shared your schemes and plans with us adults in short order.”

I coughed. “Of course.”

“Good.” Circe took a seat at the opposite end of the table from Brendan. “So what did you all have in mind to discuss?”

Zap spoke up before I could even start. “We need to go to Egypt.”

To my surprise Danielle agreed. “He’s right.”

“Uh,” I said as we all stared at them. “Care to explain?”

Danielle waved an inclusive finger at Zap. “The two of us talked last night. The seal on Gaia’s mana flow is cracking. Maybe in response to what you’ve already done, Aradia, or maybe because of what I did. But there are already two cracks and bound to be more. All the energy that’s been locked away for millennia is going to come flooding out eventually. It could take years, but we know F…the fae queen wants to rip it open sooner. It’s what she was trying to force me to do in Arcadia.” She deliberately didn’t use Fionnabhair’s name to prevent the queen from being pulled by its use. Which made me realize I better be cautious about that too. “She’ll do anything to unleash it all because she believes the flood of power will release all the incarnate fae from being human. And allow the fae stuck in dream realms to again walk on Earth.”

“What does that have to do with Egypt?” asked Brendan.

Zap typed on a flat embedded keyboard, causing an amazingly sharp holographic image of a pyramid to rise from desert sands now covering the table. “The pyramids. They were built for a purpose far more important than being exalted tombs.” He paused while staring at the historical structure.

Circe prodded him. “What purpose was that, Zap?”

He snapped out of whatever ancient memories were clamoring for attention. “Together they’re a machine made of magic: a grand device set up to control the outflow when the seal finally collapses.”

Danielle added, “They were built to protect everyone from the initial surge. Otherwise who knows how many people will die. Like wizards who burst trying to tap directly to a ley line, except in this case the ley lines will tap everyone. All around the world.”

Circe frowned. “How do you know this? The pyramids have been investigated by the magical experts of each new generation, all looking to crack their secrets and yet finding nothing.”

“Because I - Heru - and Set made a deal to get it built. And over several lifetimes we implemented Imhotep’s grand plan.”

“Imhotep?” Jenna said puzzled. “Wasn’t he in one of those mummy movies?”

Zap groaned and rolled his eyes. “They stole the name. The rest is bullcrap. Imhotep was a genius, able to create incredibly complex patterns out of magical energies. And that’s part of the problem.” Frowning, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Problem?” It was my turn to prompt him to say more.

“Yeah. I’ve remembered enough to know what it’s supposed to do but not enough to know which pyramid has the controls, let alone how to operate the damn thing.”

“One problem at a time then,” Circe said. “What are the ‘controls’? Tell us more.”

“It’s like building a car, right?” Zap said. “Each pyramid - of those which are really part of the whole and not just clueless copies by later pharaohs - has a part. Like one has the engine, another the frame, then wheels and transmission. And one has the steering wheel and pedals to make the rest function along with the ignition key. Whichever pyramid has the controls is also the one with the stabilized connection directly to where Danielle’s - sorry, Siabh’s - Seal was forged to bind the energy in the first place.”

I had a question. “If you visit each pyramid in turn, could you figure that out?”

He gave me an embarrassed look. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Brendan demanded. “If you look at a car it’s pretty damn obvious where you’re supposed to sit to drive.”

Zap glared at him. “Because like Circe said no one’s figured anything out. Imhotep designed things to perfectly hide the pattern and keep it secret, though I think Set knows how to access it. Maybe if I saw all of them I could trace the magic and figure something out, but it might take me years. I’m still just a human and can barely remember even this much! Plus I’m not a super genius like Imhotep was.”

I put a hand over his fist where he was pressing it against the tabletop. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.”

He shook his head. “There may not be time. Set admitted he was working with the queen. He’s got to be hoping that if she cracks it open then he can take control of the machine.”

“Set wants to prevent the flood?” Circe asked dubiously.

“If humanity is wiped out there won’t be anyone left to worship him. And think of the power he’ll gain from being able to control where and how much all the extra magic energy can flow. Think about it!”

I did. “Holy shit. Every magic user in the world would profusely kiss his ass.”

“Yeah,” Zap agreed. “And he’d love every minute of it.”

Haruko cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “You stated that the pyramids were built over several lifetimes. By Imhotep. I assume you mean he had several incarnations then?”

“Yeah.” Zap nodded.

“So where is he now?”

“I have no idea. A soul about to be born is like a drop of water merging into an ocean. Anubis would have taken a real unfriendly stance towards us meddling with the process. It took me and Set working together for years each time to find him. And populations were a lot smaller back then.”

“Yes.” Haruko nodded. “The haystack is much larger. But do you need the same needle?”

“What?”

Jenna caught Haruko’s gist. “Can we find someone else who’s that smart? Maybe even someone here at Whateley could do it.”

Circe spoke up. “A working of that magnitude would challenge not just me but almost any practitioner. And if Imhotep built it as a gigantic puzzle at the same time we could spend years studying it and still not have a proper answer.”

Jenna snorted. “If we can’t find someone then let’s just track Set down and beat the info out of him.”

“It’s not that easy,” protested Zap. “He’s a god!”

“Hmm,” I contemplated. “I could ask Tsáyidiel to find him. Maybe that’d lead us to the right pyramid.”

Zap’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t underestimate Set. He’s a power to be respected.”

I patted his hand. “No worries. I’ll tell Tsáyidiel just to follow him from a safe distance. And to avoid any confrontations. That work?”

He grunted. “Fine.”

“In the meantime,” Circe said, “we should plan on getting Zap to Egypt. Seeing things directly might greatly assist in the return of his memories.”

“Uhm,” Tamara interjected. “That may not be totally necessary.”

“How so?” Circe asked her.

“My mom is here. She’s got her scrying sphere - I saw it in her things. It’s like the one I had that Fields abused except a lot more powerful. My mom can see anywhere in the world with it. They’re tricky to use and take a lot of practice but she could teach Zap.”

Zap slumped in his chair. “That might help trigger memories but it still wouldn’t solve Imhotep’s puzzles. And how long would it take to learn to use it?”

Fields. Shit, that reminded me. “Fields thinks the queen may be about to get or already has one of those mana bombs. Except a lot more powerful. To use one to blow that seal apart. We may not have a lot of time.”

Tamara startled. “You’ve been talking to her?”

I groaned. “Sorry everyone, I need to get you all caught up.” While they listened I told them about my visit to Kurohoshi, running into Diego while there, and about Field’s report regarding Bishop, the mana bombs, and her suspicions about the queen. It took more than a few minutes.

“And that’s why,” I said trying to finish up, “I need to find Zakiel - to see if the queen already has a bomb or if we can somehow stop her from getting one. Well, stop her and stop the Grigori too if they are the ones behind the attack on the school. Speaking of - did those assassins whose butts you kicked so awesomely ever say anything useful?” I looked at Circe, as she’d be the only who would know.

Her expression hardened with raw annoyance. “No. Those two have apparently disappeared from military custody. They never arrived at the facility they were being transported to for questioning.”

“What?” Danielle blurted. “You’ve got to be shitting me! They escaped?”

“We do not yet know the details,” Circe said firmly. “It is possible the military is lying to us about this. Although with how angry the Major reacted when informed it is unlikely he’s in on it if that’s the case.”

Out of the corner of my eye I caught Haruko’s reaction. Instead of being pissed off, she had, just for a quick moment, quite an evil and satisfied little smile. When I turned to look directly she returned instantly to having a blank expression.

Sonuvabitch. I’d bet good money I knew exactly who had taken them. And if I was right they would have much preferred to remain in the hands of the military.

“Well crud,” I said loudly. “Alright, so as I see it we need to do the following: first I get Tsáyidiel to try and keep tabs on Set asap, second I need to see Ester and whether Kokabiel can help me find Zakiel and shut down the bomb-making or at least start tracing where more of them might be. And third Zap needs to talk to Tamara’s mom and get to learning how to use the scrying orb thing. If anyone thinks of any other possibilities we can pursue let us know. We need to chase whatever leads we can even if some don’t pan out. There’s still no guarantee our suppositions about things are even right.”

Most everyone nodded but Tamara looked uneasy.

“Tamara? Did we miss something?” I asked her.

She searched my eyes. “Do you trust Fields?”

Erk. “I know she hurt you - and me. But for her a lot of time has passed. I think she’s grown up. And she seems really sorry for what she did.”

“But do you trust her?”

Everyone stayed quiet to let me consider. Did I? She had come clean with me and apologized. The pain she had suffered was all too real and the lessons she had learned were harsh beyond words. Was that enough?

I tried to answer. “You know, I’ve barely spoken to her since Arcadia. But I will say this: she hates the queen with a passion. And if we fail to stop a flood of mana from swamping the world, it’ll likely kill her too. So I think for this, yeah, I trust her. She’s trying. She’s not the same child she was here at school.”

Tamara stared at the pyramids slowly spinning about in the air. “Then you need to get her here. Back to the school.”

Circe was not too happy about that idea. “She was expelled for breaking the most important of rules. Even if we wanted to bring her back, it would be the wrong example to the other students to do so.”

Pointing at the pyramids Tamara said, “We need to solve a crazy magical puzzle crafted by a super genius thousands of years ago. We also need to figure out how to use the magical device he created to save the world. It took me six months of study with my mom’s help to figure out how to use the scrying orbs properly. Do you know how long it took Fields?” She paused, waiting for someone to prompt the answer.

Jenna obliged. “I’ll bite. How long?”

“One hour. She mastered it better than I ever could manage in just one hour. If we need a super magic genius of our own then we need Fields.”

That shocked the sorceress. “But her testing didn’t show such a high level of aptitude.”

I snorted. “Then she faked her results,” I said, thinking of Cassius and how much he was able to keep hidden. “She’s a crazy good hacker. I bet she can build the same complexities out of magic. Any tests that would have revealed too much she likely rigged. When using that scrying sphere she bridged magic and technology as easy as writing a ‘hello world’ program.”

The analogy earned me a weird look but they understood the point.

“I will have to discuss this with Mrs. Carson.” Circe didn’t look too convinced.

“Fields won’t want to be a student again,” I pointed out. “So don’t worry about that part. I think she’s far past being anyone’s student after her time in Arcadia. But we do need her here. Or at least near enough for her to work with Zap and Tamara’s mother.” Turning back to Tamara I asked, “Will your mom even be willing to let Fields use her sphere?”

Tamara nodded. “I’ll convince her. And if I can’t, I’ll have her come talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“So what do the rest of us do?” Jenna asked, clearly wanting to be more of an active participant.

I smiled at her. “What you do best. Be awesome and when we start being stupid kick us in the butts. Also be ready to punch out any more would-be assassins.”

She grinned. “Got it.”

Zap leaned back in his chair. “At some point we will have to go to Egypt. Or at least Danielle, Jordan, and myself will. And possibly Fields. Are we going to try to work with the military for this? Or will they just be in the way?”

I glanced at Haruko. “I think something can be worked out. Similar to how I got to Syria if need be.” To Circe I added, “I bet the government is going to want plausible deniability for this mess too.”

She agreed. “That does seem likely. And with us not knowing exactly the players behind events, who knows how compromised the Egyptian military itself would be.”

I stood up. “Then I’m off to get a message to Fields. Circe, when you’ve talked with Carson about Fields let me know. I can get a message to her.”

“Very well. You go on ahead and I’ll come find you later.” Circe looked around the table. “As for everyone else here, I have further questions I’d like to ask.”

That caused a collective groan from everyone. With a cheery grin clearly indicating ‘glad it’s you and not me!’ I slipped out of the room.

Although I had a sneaking suspicion Circe wanted to talk to them all about me behind my back. About what though, I wasn’t sure.

Screw it. I had too many other things to worry about. Like coordinating all the investigations so we can figure out how to save the world. You know, nothing serious or anything.

Just another day in my screwed up life.

~o~O~o~

 

With military escort in tow, I reached out to Tsáyidiel as we crossed the campus on the way to Hawthorne. I had to force myself to not speak aloud which still felt weird.

Forty years of having to flap one’s gums to talk to people isn’t easily let go of overnight.

“Tsáyidiel!“ In an instant I had a vision of where he was: perched high on a tree-top overlooking the greenery of Gabriel’s forest, scanning the boundaries for any ripples of encroaching energies.

“Milady.”

That one word conveyed his infinite patience and contentment to guard the realm for eternity and yet at the same time a rising excitement that I might command him to perform yet another task. He was eager to fulfill whatever purpose I had need of, willing to pledge his entire existence to the accomplishment thereof.

It was unsettling in its sheer purity and entirely inhuman mindset.

“Is the realm safe?” I asked.

“Yes, milady. There have been only a handful of scans from beyond the boundaries. Michael’s presence lingers still and there are very few who would dare cross this border while it remains.”

“Good. I have a mission for you.”

“I await the glory of your command.”

“The Kemetic deity Set is possibly conspiring with the queen of the fae. He may lead her to a location here on Earth, and we need to know where. Can you safely and discretely find and track his movements?”

“I am unfamiliar with this deity. There is always risk of discovery when tracking a being whose abilities are not well known. Prediction and understanding of strengths and limitations are keys to a successful hunt.”

“Are you saying it’s too dangerous?”

“Nay, milady. But I should warn that there are realms I may find difficult to traverse without accompanying a standard-bearer.”

“A what? You need a flag?”

“Some places do not agree with angelic energies and resist our presence. An open channel to above offers stability, thus scouting teams include a standard-bearer to give anchor and provide supportive power.”

“So who are the standard-bearers?” I wondered if they had their own chorus name. The various books on angels I’d read kept listing all these things like Principalities, Virtues, that kind of thing. But what those actually meant always seemed really vague or even made up.

“Most were of the House of Light in the service of the First.”

“You mean Lucifer.”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“If discovered by my quarry should I fight or flee?”

There was no hint of ego in the question. The only thing that mattered was my desire. “If discovered withdraw and report. Consider this a reconnaissance mission only: follow and observe.”

“I hear and obey.” With that he was off, his dark wings catching hold of the wind and driving beyond the small dream pocket’s boundaries.

Which was probably a good thing as the current corporal on my detachment was trying to get my attention.

“Miss? Hey, miss?” He was waving a hand in front of my face.

I snapped out of it and stopped walking. “What?”

“You alright?” The kid stared, obviously wondering if I was nuts. Heh, if he only knew.

“Just deep in thought.”

“We were given new orders, miss.”

I groaned. “What now?”

“We’ve been ordered to pack up and return to base.”

“Really?”

“Yes’m. The DPA has jurisdiction with the FBI assisting the ongoing investigation. The CDC is also leaving.”

“So no more need for a personal security detail?”

“That’s up to the DPA, miss. I was only asked to verify and request that you keep your phone on your person as they will wish to confer at some point today. Also for you to not leave the campus.”

I patted the rear jeans pocket where the phone was already wearing a hole in the tight fabric. “Got the phone right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then we’re off.” He motioned to the squad to gather up and fall in.

“Take care guys,” I said awkwardly. “And uh, thanks for your service.”

That at least got a grin, one echoed by quite a few of them. “Our pleasure, miss.”

Oh. Those were more leers than a grins. Joy. One of the squad kept looking back over his shoulder as they hustled off. Dammit, he was the one who was supposed to have been guarding our backs.

I wondered if he’d actually seen anything other than my rear end the entire time.

Speaking of, ye ol’ butt-cheek suddenly vibrated and chimed with a ringtone I’d definitely not chosen: Calling all Angels by Train.

“Hello?” I answered, having a suspicious idea of who it might be.

“Aradia.”

“Hey Fields. Good timing, I was about to try and contact you.”

“What have you got? The line is secure - for now. And no one is in earshot of you at the moment.”

I looked around quickly. “How the heck do you know that?”

“Whateley security cameras,” she answered with a large dose of smugness.

“Wait, do you already know what we discussed in the gym?” I grumbled.

“No. Those rooms truly are isolated and secure. So give.”

Well that was a small relief. At least there’s one place a private conversation could be had. “Right. Short version is that there’s a way to save everyone if the third Seal is breached, something built by the ancient Egyptians into the pyramids.”

“Intriguing. What’s the catch?”

“We don’t know which pyramid has the controls for the mechanism. Zap, the incarnate of Heru you met in Arcadia, can’t remember it all in enough detail yet. Which is why we want you to get out here.”

She paused. “You want me at Whateley?”

“Tamara’s mom is here. She has her global scrying orb with her. We need you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. What’s built into the pyramids is some fantastically complicated working, this millennia old puzzle embedded across who knows how many of them. You know anyone else able to use that orb who’s smart enough to solve it all over the next few days? The clock is ticking.”

“There’s no way administration would let me back on campus. Let alone Tamara’s mom letting me anywhere near that orb.”

“You don’t need to be on campus itself, just close enough in town. And Tamara is going to try and convince her mom to let you.”

“I don’t…” She fell silent.

“Tamara is choosing to trust me,” I said carefully. “And I’m choosing to trust you. So get your butt out here so we can stop the queen from killing billions of people.”

In an uncharacteristically quiet voice she said, “I’ll get a flight.”

“Good. In other news I have a name for an angel who could be the one making those devices. Zakiel.”

“A Grigori?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if we can find him though, he’s staying hidden.” I frowned. Should I have sent Tsáyidiel to try and find him instead of Set? Dammit. That might have been smarter. I’d have to hold the idea in reserve.

Erica was talking and I refocused to catch up. “On that score I may have something. Diego is currently informing the DPA of a place in El Paso which we suspect is where Bishop set up shop recently. The paper trail leads to there.”

“El Paso? In Texas? Don’t they need a place close to a lot of awful deaths?”

“They do. And across the border’s ditch is Juarez: a festering hole where the cartels have been at war for the past couple years. They’re on track to have three thousand murders this year alone.”

“Damn. Wow.”

“Diego is going to request to have you there when they raid the place. So be ready to go.”

“Me? Why?”

“If your angel is there making those things who else is going to be able to take him on?”

“Oh.” I guess that made sense. “Is the DPA going to give your dad his old job back?”

“Time will tell. But don’t fuck it up for him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You better.” She hung up.

 

Chapter 21 - El Paso

During the entire flight out to El Paso I mentally continued the debate on whether I shouldn’t go at all. What if there was a second attack at the school? Kami had sent me there to help defend it, and here I was rushing off again.

But if we didn’t take the fight to the ones behind the attempts they’d be free to keep trying and eventually they’d succeed. Danielle had reassured me that she would be fine and even Mrs. Carson had heavily hinted that several of the school’s more powerful alumni were also on their way to help bolster the defenses.

Given that she refused to name names, I suspected a lot of that assistance was coming from folks who would make sure the DPA never knew they were even there.

When I arrived at the small airport in El Paso the sun was floating high in a perfectly clear blue sky. After going down the escalators from the flight gates I walked towards the two-story wall of bright windows lining the covered loading zones looking for my pickup. I had been told Diego would meet me here but the DPA agent that was with him was a surprise: Agent Mark Boone, my brother-in-law who I’d almost gotten killed when I foolishly had dragged him to my old house before knowing for sure things were safe.

It was surprisingly good to see him.

“Mark!” Instantly letting go of the handle to my small suitcase-on-wheels I wrapped him in a fierce hug.

“Hey! Go easy!” He grimaced, awkwardly not returning the gesture.

“Oh geeze, I’m sorry.” Feeling like a total heel I let go. He’d broken a number of ribs when being tossed about like a rag-doll by Tsáyidiel. I looked up at him sheepishly. “You okay?”

He managed a pained smile as he put a hand over his side. “Still tender but not too bad.” He looked thinner and the grey at his temples had advanced further. Yep, his standard-issue dark blazer was now a size too big from muscle loss.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sitting at a desk?” I asked. “And hey Diego. Long time no see.”

Diego nodded. “Miss Emrys.”

Mark shook his head. “They let me off the leash. This business of the attack at Whateley has priority.”

“That much is obvious,” I grinned. “They sent a helicopter to pick me up and get me to the airport. They barely gave me time to pack.”

“Just be glad there was a readily available commercial flight,” Mark said. “Otherwise you would’ve been flown out in a C-130 to Fort Bliss.”

“Come,” interrupted Diego. “The tactical team is waiting. We should go.” By his own clothing it was obvious they hadn’t given Diego his job back, at least not yet. The beige slacks and bright blue-green Hawaiian shirt were totally not standard agent issue.

At Diego’s continued urging we went out into the bright sun before climbing into another one of those black SUVs I kept traveling from disaster to disaster in. Diego and I took the back seat. Nothing to see here folks, just two tourists being whisked away by a pair of sunglasses-wearing G-men. Granted we’d have stood out even more if I hadn’t been wearing the headband disguise gadget thing which had again turned my hair and eyes brown.

Once out of the paved parking lot the driver quickly merged onto the 10 freeway, its sign being immediately recognizable. It’s always a trip remembering that one of the freeways I used to get regularly stuck on every day really did span the entire country. El Paso didn’t look all that different from my usual commute either, except that the only tall buildings around fell rapidly behind us and the layout of the surrounding mountains didn’t exactly match.

“So what’s the plan?” I said, breaking the solemn silence that settled in. “The Director didn’t give any details other than to get my butt out here.”

Both Mark and Diego started to reply but caught themselves.

“Go ahead,” Mark said into the resulting awkward pause of who-goes-first.

Diego cleared his throat. “Intelligence, provided mostly by Erica, has traced ownership of an estate home in the nearby hills to the same corporate entity that owned the warehouse where the device in Los Angeles was stored. In addition, deliveries of the same rare minerals and crystals from spiritually ‘hot’ places around the world like the ones used in the construction of the bomb at the school were sent to this estate.”

“What’s the connection with Bishop?” I asked.

Mark answered. “His nightclub is also owned by an offshoot of the same corporate shells. Put together it was enough to get a warrant.” He turned around from the front seat to look directly at me. “Jus…Jordan. You’re here as an observer, got it? You’re to stay outside until the buildings are secure.”

“Uh, okay?”

Diego scowled. “Her participation could be vital. Did she not save the team in Los Angeles from blindly plunging into one of the most potent death spells we’ve ever encountered?”

Mark returned the glare. “That’s why you’re here, Diego. But word from the President himself is that no harm should come to her if we can at all prevent it. Her security is now an alpha-level priority mission for the DPA. If it were up to me she would be on her way to a safe-house in the mid-west even now.”

“Whoa, whoa, say what now?” What the hell? I mean, the military escort on campus was annoying but wasn’t that just in case other assassins tried to attack? Though come to think of it those two were specifically after Danielle and not me.

I’d clearly missed something while distracted with dealing with everything else. Dammit.

Mark looked back at me. “I have not been read into all the details. But I do know that a cardinal from the Holy See met with the President to discuss recent events. Word came down after that.”

Diego shook his head. “What he’s not telling is also important. Your protection is paramount but we are also not to interfere with your holy mission in any way. I believe your participation today is part of that.”

Good grief, he was serious. “Look,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “Even I have no fricken’ clue as to what my ‘holy mission’ is supposed to be. So what makes you think that?”

The wizard regarded me calmly. “We seek an angel who is creating devices of terrible power. You have already stopped two of the fallen, indeed you redeemed their very spirits and restored them to grace. How could this not be part of your divine quest?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. Diego and Mark exchanged mutual glares and stayed quiet as well. As for the driver, he was doing his best impression of someone ardently focusing only on the traffic.

Smart guy.

~o~O~o~

 

I’d like to say that it was really cool being part of a joint DPA, FBI, and local law enforcement operation busting into a suspected super-villain’s lair but in truth I didn’t get to see much of that part.

We drove up a hill to the north into an obviously exclusive neighborhood, one with security gates, fences, and lots of cameras failing to blend with the heavily watered foliage. At the end of a long road leading out to one of the mountain’s ‘fingers’ pointing towards Juarez was another such gate. By the time our SUV, itself part of a long parade of official vehicles, reached the gatehouse the perimeter had already been breached by large SWAT vans which had deployed their cargo of heavily armed men in tactical gear across a wide driveway sitting in front of the Spanish-styled mansion.

“Stay in the car,” ordered Mark as he, the driver, and Diego all jumped out to join the festivities.

At least they’d left the police radio on. The SUV’s speakers dutifully relayed what was going on with such exciting reports as rooms being cleared, house staff being rounded up, all that kind of thing. I had a really great view of all the marvelous landscaping being trod upon by the various squads searching the estate with their organized dance of boots and guns. They were extremely thorough and thus it was taking awhile.

Out of sheer boredom I took a peek at the house from the spirit-side perspective, wondering if it had wards or anything weird. I certainly hadn’t felt anything as we’d gone past the gates and I was disappointed when the house continued to appear utterly normal.

Yet something didn’t feel quite right either. The so-called house-staff had been marched outside, hands clasped by zip-ties, and parked on their knees under the front yard’s ivy-wrapped patio trellis. For butlers, maids, and pool-boys they were not only rather non-plussed about events but also were all young and in darn good physical condition. They had on these nice white dress shirts and dark slacks with freshly polished black shoes.

Was it just me or did they all look rather alike? Dark hair but lighter colored eyes, similar up-turned noses and either pale skin or light tans. I wondered if they were all related somehow.

They had offered no resistance to any of the officers. From the radio reports the entire staff surrendered as cooperatively as possible.

The radio cracked as a commanding and impatient voice barked, “Well? Report!”

“House is clear, sir.”

“Garage clear.”

“Backyard clear.”

“Staff house clear.”

The commander called out again. “Sensing team, any necromantic residue detected?”

“Negative, sir. All detectors are clear.”

“Dammit Diego. Where’s the evidence?”

Diego was remarkably calm over the radio. “It’s here. We just haven’t found it yet. I request that Aradia assist with the search.”

“Fine. Do it.”

One of the DPA agents standing outside whistled to get my attention and gestured to get my butt out of the vehicle.

“Great,” I muttered. “Here’s where the fun begins.”

Trying to appear calm I hopped out and marched past all the people surrounded by dudes with SWAT emblazoned across thick body-armor. The silent and intense gaze of every single one of the so-called ‘staff’ was really eerie, but if you’re all tied up due to some serious police raid the sight of a teen-aged girl suddenly walking past wearing jeans and a Millennium Falcon t-shirt would probably catch your attention, wouldn’t it?

All I was missing to make the scene complete was some chewing gum with which to blow a few bubbles.

A guy with a scar running through his graying stubble was at the front of the house, assault rifle slung across his back. His fingers were twitching in their tactical gloves like they really wanted to be holding a cigarette. He moved aside to let me pass the two rather elegant and dark wooden doors that were swung inward. They each had tall ovals of stained glass, the left one was of a tree covered in small dark ravens under a cloudy sky and the other had a dark blue lake with a silver fish leaping free from the frothy spray.

Like I said, elegant.

Crossing that threshold though had an immediate effect. Not only did the world tilt sideways but the entire tableau of Diego, Mark, and many other officers standing under the huge chandelier also flickered, going mostly transparent like they’d been photoshopped in by someone who’d totally screwed up the opacity of the layers.

After many blinks and a shake of the head things cleared up. Sorta.

“Hey guys?” I asked, slowly examining the opulent entrance lobby with its antique grandfather clock, oaken coat rack, vaulted ceiling, and staircase adorned with expensively curved polished banisters.

Diego stepped closer. “What is it?”

“Did you all check the basement?”

Mark looked at me funny. “It’s a slab foundation. There’s no basement.”

I pointed at his feet. “Tell that to the weird double door hatches you’re standing on.”

“What?” He exchanged an odd glance with Diego before getting on his knees to touch the floor. “It’s marble tile.”

“Uh, not to me it isn’t.”

Frowning, Diego took a small eye-drop bottle out of the deep pockets in his slacks. Applying a quick squirt to each eye he too blinked and peered about. “Describe what you see.”

I shrugged. “Set into the floor are these two large wooden hatch doors that have hinges on this side so they should open upwards. They’re like the front doors and even have carvings matching the designs of the stained glass. I take it you all don’t see them?”

Mark grunted as he stood up. “No.”

“I don’t detect any glamour or other spellwork.” Diego spun around and marched to the front doors. He ran his palm over their inset pictures. “Nothing.”

I crossed my arms. “So either these panels are really there or I’m delusional.”

“If they aren’t being hidden by magical glamour, then what are they?” asked Mark.

Diego looked at the floor then at me, brows furrowing.

I had a thought. “Does it mean anything that I’ve been able to touch Louis Geintz’s astral projection? To me he’s always felt solid.”

“Maybe,” Diego said. “But I do not detect anything unusual in the spirit either. This could be the product of some kind of dimensional phasing.”

“Want to explain?” I asked, dropping to a knee and touching the floor panels. Yep, definitely wood and not marble.

Diego rubbed his chin. “Physical space but pushed slightly out of phase with the normal universe. There have been cases of meta-humans with powers that work that way. Look around for any signs of a large spellworking. It’s possible that the very spell itself was also re-phased and thus undetectable on our side.”

I shrugged. “When I peered at the house earlier I didn’t see anything. But I can try.” I let the ol’ eyeballs become flashlights again, an effect that caused a few of the cops to take a step back before they pretended they weren’t taken off guard. They weren’t the only ones surprised though.

“Holy shit,” I said. “You’re right.”

Surrounding the panels on the floor and extending all the way up the walls, around the main doors, and into the cross-beams above was this nest of lines of power, all glowing with this eerily deep purple. There weren’t any symbols but the patterns themselves pulled and twisted at the area surrounding them. Best way to describe it was like being stuck in the moment you awaken from a dream. You know, when the dream doesn’t want to let go and tries to actively pull you back even while eyes are opening to see the hungry tabby staring into your face.

Except in this case both sides felt just as real and the more I focused on those pulsing patterns the more Diego and Mark faded.

“Aradia!” shouted Diego. “You’re slipping across!”

Mark went to grab at my shoulder but his hand swiped right through. Yeah, that wasn’t weird or anything. And yet when I reached out to poke him with a finger it connected with his chest no problem.

Touching him also caused everyone else to come back into focus.

“Huh. Okay guys. I think I can phase in or out here. What’s the plan? Am I going down there or what?”

“No,” Mark said instantly. “That’s too risky. Diego, figure out how to get us across.”

Diego shook his head. “It could take days to isolate the resonances and even then I cannot guarantee success.”

“Can Aradia pull us over?” Mark asked him.

I thought about it then shook my head. “Guys, while my clothes seem to pop with me when I go places, even that isn’t guaranteed. Say I manage to get one of you over there but then let go? If on this side it’s all solid earth down there then I don’t think Mark wants to suddenly find himself embedded in the middle of it.”

“Dammit. She’s right.” Mark scowled. “I’ll go talk to the section chief.” He walked outside, leaving me with Diego and a bunch of bemused cops and agents.

“Whatever we’re looking for is down there, you know that,” I said to Diego.

He nodded. “Yes but Mark is right. You shouldn’t go alone.”

I studied his face. He meant it. Even though he knew that if we came out of this whole expedition empty handed his stature and any possible future with the DPA would take yet another hit.

Shit.

Fishing through my hair I pulled off the band keeping the naturally unnatural colors hidden and handed it to Diego. “Hold onto this.”

“Aradia-”

“Shut it, Diego. I made a promise.”

I didn’t bother to watch the reactions of all the law enforcement guys. I just dropped all pretense of being human, spread brilliant wings across the room, and grabbed hold of those two hatches on the floor ready to rip them free if need be.

They weren’t locked.

~o~O~o~

 

Anyone without angelic perfect recall would have been stuck wishing for Theseus’ bundle of twine. Under the house was a labyrinth of rooms and passages hallowed out from the mountain itself and going all over the place.

The hatches had revealed stairs that went down at least three or four stories until reaching these long corridors and sporadic open spaces. There was no light either except for what I was blazing out, so that was handy. While I was certainly no expert, the walls must have been carved straight out of the rock. Given the unevenness of their texture it wasn’t done by anything resembling modern tools. More like claws had just sliced out chunk after chunk.

Yeah, that wasn’t a disturbing thought or anything.

While there were many rooms they all had signs of having been abandoned. Old bedding on platforms, rolled up rugs leaning against the walls, and all kinds of other random items were scattered about. Things like chairs held together by rotting wood and ancient tables with various ceramic pottery sitting in dusty stacks. Occasionally more modern-ish furniture would fill a room. For example one had barrels of what could have been gunpowder and racks where long rifles might have stood next to a solid desk complete with high-backed wooden chair.

Oh, and there were also skulls. Like a lot of them though not human. They were of some kind of big cat —probably jaguars—with sharp fangs all piled about or placed in little alcoves in the walls. As to how I guessed they were jaguars, the large wood throne-like chair with arms carved into the form of jaguar heads was a large clue.

There was also a loud hum coming from further in and I did my best to follow its vibrations. Naturally going in that direction had the creepiest vibe: a sickly sensation of death and decay, applying deeper coats on my skin the deeper I went.

It was spine-tinglingly icky. I was so going to need a hot shower after this.

Down yet another corridor came the first flickers of a light that wasn’t mine from a wide opening at the end. I dialed down my own so I could try to sneak to the entrance and get a peek first.

Caution seemed like a good idea. Especially since as I got closer I could hear people talking.

“Coatl, this is especially not a good time for conversation.”

The man’s deep voice bounced about as if projected by an expensive stereo’s sub-woofer. Wow, this guy could have given James Earl Jones some serious competition.

“Apologies for disturbing you, Master,” another voice answered. It didn’t boom like the first but instead slid across the ears as a rasping gasp. “But by your command it is necessary. Human authorities have taken the house above.”

“You were forewarned of this possibility and given instructions yet you still invoke me. Has something unforeseen occurred?”

“They brought one of the above with them, Master. It has crossed the boundaries and approaches.”

“Approaches?” A sharp laugh made the floor rumble. “They are listening even now. Come out, angel! Let us speak.”

Shit. So much for being stealthy.

Pulsing the light to flare as brightly as it wanted I walked around the corner. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

The corridor opened up to a cavern at least fifty feet high and twice that across. The flickering illumination came from these huge crystals - all dark blues and violets - rising from the floor towards the tall ceiling in broad sheets. While the humming of the energies still swirled within them, the vibration I’d been following was actually a large diesel generator sitting in the center of a dizzying set of crystal-lined arcane circles, words of power actively glowing and throwing up complicated layers of protection. Several large hard plastic cases were also stacked besides the generator.

Oh, and from the generator ran wires to a transformer obviously powering not just the computer at the desk but also all these medical devices standing next to a hospital bed at the center.

The occupant stuck between the bed’s rails had barely any wisps of white hair left on his liver-spotted head. Tubes snaked down his throat to do his breathing for him while an intravenous drip kept him hydrated and presumably fed with glucose. His eyes were closed and a heart monitor showed a steady fifty beats per minute.

At the desk sat a guy looking no more than seventeen with a shaved head and wearing a University of Texas sweatshirt. He literally hissed at me as I walked closer. He’d been talking to a face taking up most of the computer’s display. Imagine taking an olive, sucking the juice out, and then stretching it a bit further into an elongated ellipse then adding dark eyebrows and a pair of ancient yet pondering eyes and you’d come close.

Okay, maybe he didn’t quite look that weird - but it’s what came to mind. Also, I totally called it about the subwoofer. The computer had a serious gamer’s speaker setup.

The guy on the screen spoke. “Welcome, cousin. Although that relationship may no longer apply given your ascension.”

As I moved across the room I was careful not to cross any of those creepily thrumming circles. Just walking in here was like going deeper into a graveyard. How many people had died in this room?

I coughed, trying to clear phantom phlegm from my throat and failing. “Cousin? How do you figure?”

“You are a daughter of Heaven. And while I can hardly claim such an esteemed provenance as your own, my own progenitor was also once of the Host.”

“Oh. That. I’m guessing you’re Bishop.”

“That name suffices for now, yes.”

“Who’s the guy in the bed?” I pointed, watching the ventilator force the old man’s chest to rise and fall.

“Come now. If you’re here then you should already know the answer.”

What? I took a closer look at the guy’s pattern, peering as best I could past the dizzying energies surrounding him. At his spirit’s center, tarnished and covered in grime, lay the remnants of a name.

The very name I’d been looking for.

“Zakiel! Jesus, is he dying?”

“His body has exceeded its natural limits. It is kept alive thanks to the miracles of modern medicine.”

“He’s the one who’s been making those bombs.”

“Oh yes. Of his own volition, I might add.”

Crap. I felt like the Coyote in that old cartoon when he had finally managed to catch the Road Runner. But only because he’d been shrunk down to only a few inches tall and the full-sized Road Runner had let him grab its ankle out of sheer amusement.

“Well, he needs to face justice for that. As do you.”

Snake-boy hissed air again but Bishop only chuckled. “Justice has not existed for a long time. Indeed I would argue it has always been but an illusion. In either case, I believe we are at an impasse regarding his fate.”

“How so?”

“Firstly, I am not there. Secondly, you are outside the protective wards that Coatl has activated. He can sit behind them for quite some time. Your human allies, despite the many skills of Agent Diego, will be quite unable to phase into this space. It’s an anathema to humans, you see.”

“And if I smash your wards?”

“Amusing thought but not likely. They were forged by Spanish priests hundreds of years ago, incorporating in their devout prayers the divine Name. They believed that an angel of the pit was stalking them through these tunnels and worked their enchantment with all the power of their terrified yet faithful hearts. No Fallen can cross the boundaries keeping our guest safely ensconced, for the Name would burn them quite painfully for their transgressions.”

“I am not Fallen.”

“No, of course not. But as an angel of the Host the holy Name is an imperative which equally cannot be countermanded. Thus the only question remaining is thusly put: how long can you afford to sit there waiting for the power of the wards to fail? And given that these crystals have been rather recently charged, I do believe they can last for at least fifteen if not twenty years. By that time the diesel fuel will have run out along with the medical supplies sustaining Zakiel’s current incarnation.”

“Your dude here will also starve to death in that time,” I pointed out.

“Coatl?” Bishop smiled and it was not a nice smile. “He has slept for centuries before when it was necessary. He can do so again.”

I shot a glance at Coatl. His smile was equally unfriendly - and fanged. “Shit. Vampire?”

“He has been my faithful servant for many centuries. Coatl!”

The guy bowed his head towards the screen. “Master.”

“Let the angel waste her time outside the circle. You have your orders.”

“Yes, Master.”

Bishop addressed me again. “So that it may hasten your decision to quickly depart, know this: the fae queen has already taken delivery of her prize as promised her by the sorcerer Callas Soren almost a century ago.”

“Soren!”

“Yes!” He laughed at my surprise. “He is the mastermind behind recent events and the queen is but one more pawn. Did you not realize this? And with the power we have gathered and stored she even now prepares to destroy the restrictions of magic forced upon this world. Whether she or her older sister accomplishes this task matters little to me. But I have waited a very long time for that Seal to finally fall. Fare thee well, angel. By Conquest’s success shall my own goals also reach fruition.”

Then the bugger signed off and the video-chat window went dark.

“Dammit! Hey Coatl!”

Dead eyes regarded me suspiciously but the fanged guy didn’t say anything.

“How long ago did the queen get her bomb? How big is it? Where did she take it?”

He deliberately turned his back on me by spinning his chair towards the computer. Then the twit launched a game of solitaire.

“Talk to me!” I shouted which he utterly ignored. In fact he brought up a music list and blasted Nine Inch Nails through those expensive speakers.

Frustrated, I punched at the energies marking the limits of the circles. A shower of sparks ricocheted off the fist with this wild mix of white and purplish fireworks. Weirdly it wasn’t a hard thud like I’d expected. Instead my hand had sunk at least an inch within the barrier before coming to a halt.

The whole hand, still pushed slightly inside, began to shake. Lines of power swirled around the fingers, words flickering past so quickly it was like someone had crudely attempted to embed subliminal messages into a video. But instead of the usual graffiti these words were names: Michael, Uriel, Raguel.

And Elohim.

Those names shoved hard against the arm, forcing it back as a thundering imperative. Together they staunchly defended a line never to be crossed by order of the Will of Heaven as summoned by men of true faith.

I stared at the glowing hand and the residue of the power which had stopped its path.

To an angel with that brilliant script burning inside their cores and providing them with all their holy power, that will would be sacrosanct. To go against its command would sever the tie between their own pattern and their source, to cut themselves away from all that gave them meaning and purpose.

They would fall from grace and the holy Name would cease to be a loving sanctuary of strength but instead would transform into a fiery condemnation and shatter their central essence.

Except Armaros had said I was different. He’d said I was not tied to the Throne and therefore not really of the host. Elohim was not my conduit and His name did not lie within. Only the name as gifted and sustained directly by the unknowable and ultimate source of Light burned within: Amariel. Unbound and free to choose a path resonating only according to her own purpose.

Beyond this barrier lay my only real lead towards stopping the deaths of thousands, if not billions should the queen shatter the seal. I had to get in there, I just had to.

Even if it meant contradicting the written Will of God.

Opening the channel to that Source wider still I offered a prayer of my own. Guide me, I begged. If this is the will of my spirit, then grant me the strength to succeed.

With a massive surge the letters of my name seared across my awareness. A fist now more light than hand hammered its way across the boundary in an explosion of light and power, shockwaves ripping through the patterns woven into the circles. The surrounding stalagmites of crystal screeched from the strain of each blow as I put all I had behind them.

Holding on to that purpose I forced my way across as a burning figure brighter than any magnesium flare.

As the echoes of the terrible sound and light-show faded the circle restored itself still intact and glowing behind me. I hadn’t broken it, but I was firmly ensconced within.

Coatl fell off the chair to cower on his knees, head bowed as it touched the cold rocky floor.

“Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli! Lord of the Day! Forgive this humble servant of the night!” He’d yanked his hands back into the long sleeves of the sweatshirt, tightly gripping the ends of fabric in closed and covered fists, the hood also pulled down to completely shroud his head. “Lord Tlaloc must not have recognized your true glory!”

That was different.

“Lord Tlaloc?” I asked warily, still trying to process what I had just managed to do.

“The master.” A shaking sleeve waved back towards the desk where the computer sat. “If he had known your true personage your welcome would have been made proper!”

“My true personage?”

“Only the Star of the Morning could cross this circle so. Only Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli in one of his many aspects could perform such a miracle. Which aspect do I have the honor of addressing, oh Lord?”

Star of the Morning? Holy crud. He meant Lucifer. “You have me mistaken, Coatl. For I am not he.” Like the boobs hadn’t already given that away? I mean, being mistaken for Gabriel at least sorta made sense, but Lucifer?

Then again, given what I’d just done…

The covered head insisted. “You must be. His light is yours.”

Coatl clearly was not up to speed on Aradia’s history. But if the guy was suddenly being agreeable I needed to make use of it quickly while it lasted. “My questions. Answer them.”

“The Queen of Arcadia took delivery of what was promised earlier this day, great Lord. She now possesses a full share of all the collected essences which the master and the associate have endeavored to gather for nearly three-fourths of a century.”

Oh fuck. “Where? Where has it gone?”

“Forgive me, Lord, for I know not.”

“By the ‘associate’ do you mean him?” I gestured towards the dude in the bed still breathing by virtue of the machines and tubings.

“Him?”

Oops. The guy was hiding his face and didn’t see the gesture. “Zakiel. The old guy in the bed. Does he know where she is going?”

“It is possible, Lord. But I am not privy to such if he does.”

“Can you wake him up?”

“Forgive me, no. He has slipped into lands of eternal dream. We contain his spirit here but his mind wanders to realms of its own making.”

I stepped closer to the bed. “If he’s in dreams then I’ll just have to go there and ask him directly. Stay put, Coatl, I may have more questions. Not like you can go anywhere anyway.”

“As you command, Lord.”

The heavily-lined face of the man snug under the blanket looked so peaceful in spite of all the tubes keeping him alive. Crinkled skin adorned the sides of his closed eyes. He looked an awful lot like my grandfather did right before he passed.

I had to remind myself that the spirit behind those saintly features had forged weapons of mass destruction and deserved to answer for it.

Peering further beyond the physical I reached out to the line of sky-blue energy fluttering out of his head that lead off to a different place of awareness.

Taking hold I let it pull me away.

 

Chapter 22 - Escape

Trees and ground, stones and sky. All in shadow.

Small calloused feet scrambled across brambles lining thick forest floor, flinching hands held out against leaves and branches ripping across skin and thin woolen sleeves. Lungs heaved with exertion, the harsh shout of men and baying of dogs allowing no respite.

His brother was dead. Tzalka’s desperate cries for him to run silenced by the single crack of thunder from a guard’s authority. Past the first trees and without looking back, his brother’s violently ejected soul had screamed across his awareness: all its rage, its pain, and the smallest of hopes.

A hope that Iosef might escape, might survive.

In the box-car tears had smeared dirt and blood across many sunken cheeks. An old babushka discovered the loose boards near the floor, and with Tzalka’s help had pried free a small opening to the earth flashing past as the train sped towards whatever doom awaited the hungry, cramped, and beyond terrified passengers wedged inside the mobile prison.

The train had stopped, perhaps an issue with the mighty engine, they didn’t know nor care. The babushka grabbed Iosef, skinny and half-starved, and shoved him through the gap to fall to the tracks below. She tried to push through Tzalka but he was older and became stuck, arm and head free but chained forever by the larger torso behind.

Seeing his younger brother’s hesitation Tzalka had gasped for Iosef to flee. Gasps that became shouts as the patrol came and their whistles of alarm pierced the moonless night.

Now he ran.

Dogs bounded in his wake with all the fierce joy of the hunt. They had his scent, an all too easy task. It had been over a week since his mother had laughingly forced him into the bath. She too had been taken, and the brothers had no knowledge whether she was on the same train or had already met her fate.

With a snarl the closest beast lunged, teeth sinking into an ankle, tumbling them both into broad roots weaving into a thick trunk. Lashing out, his other heel connected between the hound’s eyes, its yelp of stunned surprise slackening the jaws and allowing the limb to rip free that he might scramble forward once again. Foot over bloody foot, there was no recognition of pain only terror.

To his dismay he burst from the edge of the forest into a wide clearing. An industrious family had carved a space into the woods wherein to build a home that now sat clearly abandoned. Perhaps they too had been victims of the invader’s purges. Thick grass and young trees sprouted across the emptiness leading to a building without light or fire and a door swinging from rusty hinges.

Bolting towards the cabin, he threw himself past the entrance and slammed the thankfully solid door into the fangs of another snarling hunter. A cross beam rested against the door’s frame, and with strength born of desperation was wedged and locked into place.

Angry claws scratched at the protective lumber. Shouts came from the forest line, the chasing guards following their baying trackers.

Furniture lurked within shadows and the boy crawled under the kitchen table, arms huddled around a chest gasping for air trying desperately to be silent but whimpering all the same.

More barking from beyond the walls and men relayed orders in gruff foreign voices as they surrounded the house having determined that their prey was inside. Several debated on how best to breach the building, for the windows had long ago been boarded shut against harsh winters.

A kick to the front door rattled the frame, followed by another, the wood creaking in protest. Iosef, eyes wide with terror, retreated further into the dark corner.

No further blows landed.

Instead a cry of alarm was followed instantly by gunfire and shrieks of panic. More shots, more screams, and the dogs whimpered and howled.

A horrible silence followed.

Iosef flinched when a single knock rapped at the door.

“You can come out now, boy.” A man’s voice spoke not in German nor even Polish. The words were Hebrew. Iosef, still studying for his bar mitzvah, understood.

Not that he moved.

Another man spoke, voice deep and resonating through the darkness like distant thunder. “You will have to fetch him, Soren. The child is paralyzed with fear.”

The beam across the door holding death at bay trembled and rose off the hooks, rotating in the air on its own, to land gently once again besides the door which now swung open.

Two men filled the doorway. One with skin the same shade as the night beyond but clad in the raiments of a gentleman: dark woolen business coat, slacks, and immaculate blue tie. The other was a much taller yet skinnier man huddled within a leather duster who was wiping at his mouth with a red-stained kerchief.

Behind them sat six German Shepherds aligned in a perfect row, gazing at the suited gentleman with abject submission.

The gentleman spoke again, stern yet with compassion. “It is safe. They cannot hurt you.”

“We should not linger,” said the slender giant. “Boy. Outside. Now.” The words slipped through the door and like worms wriggled into Iosef’s ears.

Iosef, with no intention of leaving his spot, found his limbs moving. Crawling out from under the table, his legs carried him to the door, and as the two men stepped aside, out into the clear cold night.

The gentleman’s dark eyes narrowed disapprovingly. “There was no need for that.”

“The gunshots will bring more men once they’ve formed up. And I have had my fill this eve. Are you sure this is the boy?”

“He is the one. Look close at the energies already accumulating around him from those who satiated your hunger.”

Long, slender, and terribly cold fingers touched Iosef’s face, turning it this way and that in examination. “Ah yes. Fascinating.”

“If you are satisfied then we have an agreement.”

The hand released Iosef’s cheeks, moving to rest gently against his back and the taller man turned to stand at the boy’s side. Iosef wanted to run, but exhaustion and that strange compulsion kept him rooted to the spot.

“I believe we do, yes.”

The gentleman knelt before the boy, reaching a night-skinned hand of his own to brush dirty hair out of Iosef’s eyes. “He will take good care of you, Iosef. For that too is part of the bargain.”

Staring into those fathomless dark eyes the boy saw - or perhaps only felt - a touch of ancient guilt.

“For such a promising gift?” The other man laughed. “He shall be treated better than I treat myself. Now be so kind and open one of those convenient portals of yours that we may be away from here before discovered.”

Standing smoothly the gentleman gestured off to the side and the air split into a tall shimmer of faerie lights that wavered before the distant trees. “Go on through.”

With a shove from behind the boy stumbled forward into the sparkling gate.

 

There was nothing but blank white space.

No floor, no ceiling, no walls, only whiteness. At least I had form and clothes: bare toes, tight pale jeans, and a simple purple crop top that came along with the shift of perceiving myself once again as being Jordan.

“This is still a dream,” I muttered, the sound echoing weirdly as if mixed through a broken echo filter.

“Yes, although a more lucid one.”

Pivoting about revealed a thickly bearded man dressed in a white suit resting comfortably on a large and equally white leather chair. Upon recognition I blurted, “You’re Iosef. And you’re the old guy in the bed.”

The man, looking to be in his late forties or perhaps early fifties, smoothed a hand down a vest framed by a bright yellow tie. It was the shape of the nose turning downward at its end and the bushy eyebrows that had given him away. He smiled, lines of amusement folding at the corners of his eyes. “That saves me from needing an introduction and leaves only you.”

“My name is Jordan.” I frowned as thoughts cleared from the fright of his shared memory-dream. “You’re the bomb-maker.”

Those jovial lines faded. “Such was never my intent.”

“Really? Looks like you’ve been at it for quite some time.”

“I could not help but do what my spirit was created to do. As an angel whose name burns so bright you should understand.”

“Your spirit. You mean Zakiel.”

“Yes. His memories have blended with my own. Only recently has such self-knowledge come to me, much to my surprise. Even now I find it hard to distinguish whether I am human or angel— or both. Thinking about it now, Bishop and the sorcerer must have known but they never revealed it. Instead I was only told that I was a natural necromancer, cursed to be an unwilling conduit for the dead. Perhaps it is due to balancing here between life and death for the past year that Zakiel’s struggles can now be remembered.”

“More likely because two of the seals have broken and the restrictions are weakening.”

That startled him. “Ah. Has the Day of Judgment arrived? Are you then a Seraph sent to judge the fallen bound to the earth? If so, you seem awfully young for such a task. Nevertheless, I am ready.”

“Why does everyone assume I’m here to judge them? I’m only looking for answers.”

He seemed strangely disappointed. “Then you must have questions.”

“Let’s start with the fact that you’re Grigori. Weren’t they all cast out? How can you claim to be fulfilling your purpose when you’re fallen?”

“Does an implement cease being what it is even after being thrown away? Thinking so drove many of my brothers mad in their attempts to reject their own natures out of anger, spite, or pain.”

“And you didn’t.”

“Zakiel will not. For his is a most sacred task, one which he will never willingly abandon.”

“Want to tell me what that is or should I just guess?”

He leaned back in the chair, hands held upwards as if in prayer. “I cleanse souls, freeing them from the agonies of their mortal deaths so that they are not overwhelmed by those final moments of shock and horror, the pain of which could otherwise lead them to afterlives unworthy of their true merit. Did you know that it can take up to twelve months for a soul to be washed clean of the taint of the mortal world? It is the heartfelt prayers and thoughts of those left behind that help sustain a soul through the process. For far too many there are none who properly mourn their passing. Then there are the countless others whose tragedies cling so tightly that their souls are dragged to the realms below before they even know what has happened.” He looked at his hands with great sorrow. “Thus many true diamonds can fall.”

“You save them from this. The souls.”

“As best I can.”

“But why make the bombs?”

Sharp hazel eyes met mine. “When a blade is cleansed in a fire the cruft is burnt away. What if you have no fire? How do you clean something then?”

“Scrub it with a brush and water?”

“How do you then clean the brush? And what do you do with the toxic remnants that linger after?”

Oh. I began to understand. “They aren’t really bombs. It’s like storing nuclear waste.”

He nodded. “Cut off from the Throne, I lack the fire with which to cleanse such residue in the pure light of the Lord. But there are so many souls who are lost and in desperate need of such aid. Without Bishop’s skill to craft the crystals which can safely contain what I naturally pull close, the land itself around me would become corrupted with what my spirit gathers but is unable to burn away. I myself would be driven mad by the lingering residue, in fact I am convinced that many of Zakiel’s former lives were corrupted by it. I am a tool without an off switch; I could not stop that process even when I tried, as the spirit must act according to its design.”

I bit a lip and thought of what Fields had said. They could have gathered the energies of painful deaths from the worst slaughters of the last eighty years, starting with the genocides in Europe. How many souls had they saved by doing so? The mind reeled. I’d gone after Zakiel with furious anger because he’d forged the device that had almost gotten Danielle killed. But now? A broken angel trying to fulfill the duties they were made for, was that wrong? How many souls would have suffered if he hadn’t? I didn’t have the answer to that. What choice had he ever been given?

Besides, if he had been stuck here unconscious for a year then he wasn’t the one who used the bomb. The real enemy was whoever managed to get one and actually use it. And somehow I didn’t think that was Bishop either.

Peering into his spirit I saw his name: tarnished and obscured, the once burning letters now faded like the last tiny glow of a burnt out candle desperately trying to hold onto a smidgen of heat. It made me ache with a far too familiar pull.

“Could I help you?” I asked, fighting the impulse washing forth from above. “Kokabiel and Tsáyidiel both were restored in the light - my light. What if you could also be restored?”

“You can indeed help me, Jordan-who-is-Amariel, but not in that way.”

“Miracles seem to happen when I power up. Why not one for you? Please, allow me to try.”

He smiled sadly. “Perhaps when you have come into your full measure and can burn with the required brightness. But you are not there yet, I can sense that much. Until then I will not risk touching that blessed light only to lose it once more.” He lost the smile. “Zakiel could not survive that.”

“But-”

“No. And do not ask again.”

It was clear it was going to piss him off if I pushed the idea any further. God knows I wanted to—or probably knew. I yearned to reach out to Iosef and his spirit, to gather them close and restore the beauty of his name. It hurt to not do it, like watching one of your loved ones standing out in the middle of a busy street and being unable to rush out and save them from the oncoming traffic. But if he was right and I wasn’t capable yet I didn’t dare. It had worked on those willing to let go within the light, who knows how awful it would be if tried on someone who might instinctively resist and wasn’t ready. Kokabiel had stopped me at the gathering for that very reason. Or worse, what if my own doubts and judgments about his role in the current threat to everyone got in the way somehow and messed things up.

There were too many ways to screw it up. Reluctantly, though it pained my heart something fierce, I had to agree. “Okay.”

His hands flexed and then relaxed. Clearly I wasn’t the only one struggling between conflicting inner needs.

“I will note one thing,” he finally said. “Helping me was part of a deal that Bishop made with Soren, the one who led him to me the night I was found. Bishop worked his craft to grow all the containing matrices. They managed to store the energy using a technique and skill I never could fathom. What he then did with them all was never my concern. Perhaps I simply did not wish to know. Those crystals kept me sane for all these years, a shunt for that which I was unable to safely carry. As for Bishop, his plans are his own as are his bargains. I was surprised when so many crystals were recently returned here, just as I was surprised with what came next.”

“Which was?”

“He had me channel the total into three equal pieces. Then he turned one over to a lady of the fae. He called her queen.”

“Do you know where she was taking it?”

“No. Nor did she take the crystal with her.”

“What do you mean? If she didn’t take it, then where is it?”

He peered at me seriously. “She absorbed the energy. All of it.”

I gaped. “How??"

“Her will is formidable,” he said. “But eventually it will weaken. Whatever she intends to do with that much power will have to be done soon. Within a few days at most. Before her pattern explodes from the internal pressure.”

“Holy shit.”

“Bishop also took one of them, again I know not where.”

“That leaves one left over,” I said, getting a bad feeling.

He nodded. “That third was then split into two: one small portion and one much larger as part of a different bargain.”

“If I had to guess then one of those was used at the attack on Whateley.”

“I know nothing about their use. Only who took them.”

“Who?”

“From my vantage I can only see spirits. The crystals were taken by Sariel, in whatever incarnate form he now wears. In exchange for something Bishop wanted very much. I have known him a long time, and never have I seen him so excited to complete a deal. In truth the queen was rather displeased that her portion had been made smaller as a result and came close to claiming a violation of terms.”

So we had been right. Sariel, a Grigori along with whichever others were working with him, had been behind the attack on Danielle. And the sonuvabitch had a second bomb. But which one of the two? Big or small?

“If the larger one were to detonate how widespread would the effect be?”

“That crystal held a concentration only slightly weaker than the queen’s own. If its containment is breached the effects could reach for perhaps a thousand miles.”

“Oh god,” I whispered, my fear confirmed. “So there are two mega-nukes in play. The queen is one - and Sariel possesses the other.”

“Yes.”

“And the whole reason any of this was possible is because Soren brought Bishop to you. Before the Nazis could kill you.”

“Yes.”

“What did Soren gain from the queen in doing all this?”

“I was never privy to that knowledge. Nor, I believe, was Bishop.”

“This is seriously not good.” I bit a knuckle but that didn’t help. “You know, I want to hate you for making the damn things. You should have asked what he was doing with it all, Iosef! You should have!”

“Perhaps I was too afraid to do so. Without Bishop’s continued aid my overloading self-destruction was assured.”

“Dammit. This totally sucks, but I guess I understand. I don’t want to, but I do.” I shook my head. “Alright. You said something about me helping you though, right?”

“I would ask you to perform a small task for me though I may be unworthy of your mercy.”

“What do you need me to do?”

He told me and my heart plummeted.

“I can’t do that!”

“Yes you can. It’d be simple: just turn off the generator and let nature do the rest.”

“That’s murder.”

“I’ve been trapped for over a year, able to project and channel energies but nothing more. It’s past due for Zakiel to move on to his next life. If you kill me who would know?”

I shook my head. “Coatl would, for one. And there’s a whole room of FBI, DPA, and local authorities up there. You really think he’d not tell them what I’d done?”

“Coatl still lives?” He raised one of those bushy eyebrows. “I’d have thought to get to me he’d have died defending the wards before they were taken down.”

“They’re still up.”

The other brow rose to equal height. “Then how are you even here?”

“I walked through them.”

He was clearly stunned so I added, “In fact I was going to ask you how to un-phase things so the agencies can get down here. They need to see it all. Better still would be if you could declare what happened to them.”

“I will never awaken from this sleep. Nor would I testify against Bishop. I owe him too much. Help me, Amariel. It is past time.”

“Look, I’ll promise to do what I can to get the life support turned off. But I can’t just pull the plug. Is that enough?”

“A promise given by the Lord’s Promise herself? I would be a fool to not take it.” His eyes crinkled with tired warmth. “As you are inside the wards, all you need to take them down and the reality phase-shift with it is to pull as much energy as you can into the center-most circle and then let it snap back into the crystal that sits there. It should shatter and the tunnels that were carved will resume their place in the natural world.”

“Center-most circle. Okay. If I do that though, will Coatl attack me?”

“If he hasn’t already then he is likely terrified of you.”

“Yeah, I think he is.”

“Then you must decide whether he is to be arrested or can go free. Realize however that Bishop will not allow his trusted servant to remain in the custody of the authorities. Your other option is to kill him.”

Uh, crap. At this point Bishop, with his own device of that crazy magnitude, was himself a nuclear power. How many people would he kill to break Coatl out of prison? Fuckity fuck. I knew it was the DPA’s jobs to deal with this sort of thing, but hell. My brother-in-law was one of those agents who could be killed in such a breakout attempt. Already Danielle’s would-be assassins had somehow been busted free from the military’s direct custody.

If our armed forces can’t defend against these kinds of people, who could?

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I turned to go. “I’d say ‘take care’, but that would be silly.”

“Yes it would. And Amariel,” he said with the sad smile of someone resigned to their fate, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Zakiel. Save that for when your word is restored even if that’s in your next life. Because I promise you that you will again stand tall and full of grace. In the light of above you shall shine with the glory of all the souls you aid upon their way.” With that I let myself fade from his dream-space.

As I did I heard him whisper one last thing:

“Adonai.”

~o~O~o~

 

I was sitting in the chair lost in long dark thoughts when Diego, Mark, and the rest of the uniformed agents spilled into the cavern. Diego immediately was distracted with examining the huge glowing crystals, but Mark trotted over to me with a pistol held at the ready.

“Jordan! You alright?”

Ignoring the question I pointed at Iosef’s comatose body on the bed. “The generators are keeping him alive. But he doesn’t want to live.”

Mark looked at Iosef’s face without recognition. “Who is he?”

“He’s an angel, Mark. It’s complicated.”

My friend returned his gaze to me. “Something happened, didn’t it.”

“I spoke to him. In his dreams. He’s trapped there.”

“Can you free him?”

“I think you’ll find the doctors will declare that he has no chance of recovery. He’s not going to wake up.”

Behind and around us the squads were busy making sure no one else lurked within the cavern. They didn’t find anyone.

Mark sighed. “If he doesn’t have a living will, does he have any family?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll check into it. But Jordan, is he the bomb-maker?”

“Yes…and no. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Mark wasn’t too happy with that answer. “Diego!” he shouted. “Are these glowy things the evidence you needed?”

“Madre de Dios, yes! The energy that was stored here, even a non-sensitive such as yourself should be able to feel it!”

“This place really does feel awful, wizard,” he agreed. “But that’s not science. The Director will expect an analysis and report on his desk in three hours. And we need to get this man to a hospital until we can sort out what to do with him.”

Another agent looked at the sleeping old man. “Is he a suspect, sir?”

Mark gave me a rueful half-smile. “Yes…and apparently no. Just keep agents on him at all times. And exercise full security measures. No one is to know where he is going, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

Bouncing a knuckle off my front teeth again, I focused on the hard stone floor where lingering flashes of color still swirled. A hand touched my knee. Mark had knelt by the chair and was looking worriedly at me.

“Jordan. Talk to me. What’d you learn?”

I winced. “It’s bad. Really bad. The fae queen and the Grigori both are sitting on energies equivalent to the largest nukes ever made. And if we don’t stop them they could use the cursed forces on each other, collateral damage be damned. The Grigori want to stop the third seal from breaking, and the queen wants it to go.”

He paled. “So we weren’t here in time.”

“No.”

“What’s our next move?”

“Get Danielle somewhere safely hidden. The bastards may try to take another shot at her. And I need to talk to the others back at Whateley because ultimately…” I chewed harder on the finger, drawing the iron taste of blood.

“Ultimately what?”

“We need to get to Egypt. Danielle included. We need to be ready to fight with whatever we can muster.”

“And if we don’t?”

I gave him a hard look. “If we don’t then not only will the middle east likely be driven mad by one of those bombs, but also every magic sensitive person in the world could literally explode from the inside out should the full might of Gaia’s stored mana be unleashed all at once. If not everyone, magic capacity or no.”

“I’ll uh…I’ll tell the Director.” He’d gone whiter still. Not that I blamed him.

“Do that. I’ve got some calls to make.”

“Who to?”

“Eventually a god and a dragon. First up is another angel, though if he answers I’ll be damned surprised.”

“You’ll get a better signal upstairs. Don’t do it in the vehicle. It’s bugged.”

I blinked. “Thanks.”

He nodded and went to get busy.

As for me, I took a deep breath then got up to walk out of the cavern. Hiding near the ceiling behind a shadow I could feel a pair of eyes watching me but I ignored them. The owner of that stare would need to make their own quiet escape out of this place as best they could. They also better remember one thing:

They owed me one hell of a favor and some day I was going to collect.

~o~O~o~

 

There was a click after the second ring as a groggy voice answered. “Hello Jordan.”

“Nick. Or should I call you Barakiel now?”

“Been awhile.”

“You never called back. Asshole.”

“Other decisions were made.”

“Were they the right ones?”

There was a lingering pause. “That remains to be seen.”

“Does it? I’d argue otherwise.”

“Yeah well, if seals keep shattering we Grigori are on a one-way ticket to Hell. And that’s not the worst of it.”

“Oh?”

“The souls of all our children, all the remaining Nephelim be they bound to limbo or locked into incarnate lives, will be destroyed. Their patterns utterly obliviated.”

“You don’t know that.”

“If the seals go they would be set free. Michael will never allow that. The Host will come and this time without Gabriel struggling to find some middle path.”

“What if the Grigori can be redeemed in the light? And the Nephelim too? Wouldn’t that change things?”

“Can you promise that?”

“I can promise to try. And if I understand things correctly I am that promise.”

“Wish it were that simple.”

“Maybe it could be.”

“Is that what you called to say?”

“Yes. But not all. Tell Sariel to stay away and leave us the fuck alone. Don’t make things more messed up than you already have.”

“Already have? Enlighten me.”

“Who else but you knew that Danielle was at Whateley? Or that Isaiah was my best friend? Did you know that Sariel’s plan included driving mad an entire school of children along with their teachers? And to burn them alive in the process? Or did he keep that to himself.”

Another long pause. “If I said I hadn’t known would you believe me?”

“I’m far too pissed off right now to take you at your word. But in the end it may not matter whether I believe you or not. What does is how much innocent blood you are willing to spill across those tattooed palms of yours. Sariel has a second device. Much larger than the first. Whatever he intends to do with it will only end up guaranteeing that you and your brothers are thrown into darkness for all eternity.”

“And you do not know that.”

“Perhaps not. But neither do you. So the next time you have to choose ask yourself one thing: are you still capable of believing in the light? Because maybe, just maybe, that’s all you need to return to it.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. If you guys use that damn thing I swear the light will find you and when it does it won’t be to give you a warm and pleasant day.”

With a push of a button the phone was silenced.

 

Call Of The Light (Part 6 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 23 - Sacrifices

The California sun had hours ago slipped below the evergreen-lined mountain peaks to the west. Leftovers from his lunchtime foray into the local town still sat mostly uneaten on the square patio table, sandwich and partially consumed plum resting on a plate. The porch-light remained off as stars twinkled into view between the wispy clouds hanging in the sky, leaving him as a motionless dark shadow resting on the wooden bench before the cabin.

Isaiah's morning and day had been rather uneventful. The interview with the DPA, bounced as it was through several VPN proxies across Europe, had been short and terse. While Director Goodman clearly realized there was more to what had happened than either Isaiah or his attorney were willing to reveal, legally they had cooperated. By the same token the Director had refused to reveal more about the attackers who had murdered the young and promising legal assistant or report anything the authorities had learned about the attack on the Academy.

He had therefore mostly spent the day sitting outside the cabin, waiting for the relayed (and thus delayed) messages regarding Jordan’s efforts in El Paso while pretending to work on legal cases he felt obligated not to abandon. The stillness and calm of the remote location appealed to him - a truth which could be interpreted as yet one more piece of a puzzle insistently showing pictures he didn’t want to believe.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered into the night’s darkness. “I am me. Isaiah. Not an angel, not even a saint or a prophet. Just me.” A fist clenched tight opened to reveal obsidian skin that now stretched outward along each finger as if the hand was ever so slowly sinking into a tar one could never wash off.

“Dammit, Justin. What did you do to me?” The hand shook in surly frustration. Which name of his friend and brother was real? Justin, Jordan, Aradia…or Amariel? Did he - she - even know?

It was much simpler when the use of alternate names had been constrained to the gaming table. Characters were just that: characters. But that of course was a lie. Into their imagined adventures they’d put so much of themselves that the characters became alternate aspects of their personalities. Their lessons, their pains, and their growth all integrated into the sum which made up the player. Is that what he truly was? Just a character in some cosmic role-playing game? Was Azrael sitting at some heaven-forged platform holding a character sheet upon which was inscribed the name ‘Isaiah Cohen’ along with a list of physical and mental statistics? If the thought hadn’t been so horrific he’d have broken the silence on the porch with a laugh.

A woman’s voice did it for him. “You can’t blame her, Boss. She’s as caught up in this mess as you are.”

The words wafted from the edge of the porch like a soft breeze. He didn’t turn to look, forcing himself to keep his view fixated forward so her shadowy figure could continue to lean easily against the wall. She had demonstrated a rude habit of disappearing if he tried to focus on her too closely.

“Hello Tracy. I’d ask how you’re doing but we both know the answer to that.”

“Funny. Though actually this ghost thing is not so bad.”

“Really.”

“Hey, I’m doing my best not to think too much about what I’ve lost. Instead I’ve tried to focus on what I’m gaining.”

“Gaining?”

“Yeah. It’s slow going but the answers are getting clearer. He said to avoid rushing it so as not to be overwhelmed and I’m trying to follow that.”

“Who is ‘he’? An angel?”

“Technically he’s you.”

“Ah.” Isaiah shook his head. “You realize that from my perspective the trauma of events has in all likelihood driven me mad. Therefore you aren’t actually here but rather are a hallucination conjured out of shock and guilt.”

“You should let that go, Boss. I’ve told you before it wasn’t your fault.”

“Comfort from a mental delusion is not exactly an argument of substance.”

“Even if I wasn’t real what I’m telling you is. And you know that. So don’t be so stubborn.”

He chuckled. “May as well ask water to not be wet.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “You are who you are after all.”

Amusement vanished. “And just who is that?” he growled. “If my soul is something else - something so much greater - then what the hell am I? The me that I know myself to be? A footnote of behavioral patterns? A mask to be discarded when the masquerade ends? Answer me that!”

“I can’t. Not and have you accept it. It’s up to you now.”

“Up to me? I’ve only been shown glimpses of the past, ephemeral dreams of triumph and tragedy. Hardly enough upon which to base an entire structure of belief.”

“The seals are breaking. At the moment the only one blocking those memories is you. You just don’t want to believe.”

He didn’t reply, muscles in his jaw tensing. Her dark outline faded away in the following silence, leaving him alone with his thoughts and rising anger.

Didn’t want to believe? As if it were a simple matter of flipping a switch and not a fundamental reevaluation of one’s entire sense of self. All while standing at the summit of an inner climb where below tremendous and terrifying destinies swirled in a chaotic dance of unknown futures.

To take that leap would trade an old life for new, one bearing responsibilities far greater than could be properly imagined.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he shouted to the empty forest. “For me to plunge into this mess and accept the burdens that go with it! But if you want me to do that I need to know what I am! I need an understanding upon which to build. Otherwise it would be just a leap without the faith. And I refuse to fall!”

Angry determination hardened the contours of his neck and face. “So show me. Show me who I am or you can forget the whole damn thing.”

The command was not directed at the trees nor the disappearing spirit. It was hurled towards the twin pillars of uncertainty and fear struggling to uphold crumbling walls bearing the comforting illusions belonging to a life already irrevocably changed. With an effort of will Isaiah plunged straight between them.

Truth, no matter how painful, was paramount.

 

“What have you done?”

Two cloaked figures stood at the edge of ragged rocks and dirt protruding out of the mist spilling upward from the thundering waters below. Where once mighty rocks had separated churning ocean on one side from tracts of lower farmland on the other, a waterfall unrivaled in historical memory now shook the earth. With unstinting rain pouring from the cloud-swallowed sky the resulting floodwaters breaching the gap expanded across the land with an inescapable speed and fury.

The two stared out at the destruction wreaking havoc on all below, one leaning with slightly hunched dark wings against a tall scythe, a tool constructed by the lashing of a broken sword’s blade to the tip of a long and gnarled branch.

This very implement had moments before split the rocks and the mountain of earth below them to unleash raw ocean across a new and deadly conquest.

A man - for he had the form of one and had arrived by horseback and not by flight - repeated his cry past the howling air of storm and sea.“What have you done?!”

Straightening, the angel turned to the other. “Only what must be.”

Wind blew the hood of the man free of his features. His face held a shock and horror available only to youth, as if the foundations of his life were being equally swept away by the tsunami below. “But she’s down there! Edna! She’s still down there! As is our whole family!”

“Yes.” The angel’s hood refused to budge in the onslaught of air and water, leaving visible only a mouth lined with grimness.

“You’re killing her! Your own daughter! And all of them!”

To this no reply was given, only the clash of distant thunder and a wind resuming its shrieking wild dance.

A deep soulful cry escaped the man’s lips as he fell to knees which sank quickly into the mud. “She fought for you! I warned her against it but she was resolved and refused to listen. To stop the Fallen. For the angels of the Most High. For you!”

“Yes.”

“Why? For the love of all that’s holy, tell me why!”

“This must be.” The last was spoken quietly but the winds around them slowed as if to honor the angel and allow his words to be heard.

“That is such excrement!” Grief and shock transformed into rage, veins along the man’s neck pounding with fury. He stood, taking a step towards the angel. “Save them! You have wings, I know your power! What plan could possibly be holy and true while allowing this to be? Fly, Father! Fly and stop this madness! You can still save her!””

“I will not.”

“Murderer!” spat the man into the mist and rain. “I curse you and name you Murderer and Betrayer!” With a fierce shriek he lunged forward with desperate hatred, fingers wielding a short knife which he plunged towards the dark angel.

A blade which never reached its target.

The angel’s image simply blinked from one state to another, from standing impassively to instantly having closed the distance with the angel’s left hand gripping the man’s throat to lift him from the ground while the right had seized the attacking arm with unyielding force. The scythe, upright and planted into the ground, moved not.

The knife fell to the stones below, bouncing once then twice and finally over the cliff’s edge to disappear into the thundering waters.

Unrepentant eyes glared above the angel’s grip. “Go on. Finish it! If this was the plan all along then I too am to be damned!”

The angel regarded him without expression.

A flicker of distant light approached through the storm, visible over the angel’s shoulder and the man choked out a laugh. “What, will you make Gabriel undertake this burden on your behalf? Is Death also a coward? Do it, Father. If I am to die let it be by your hand and your hand alone. Do it!”

Still the angel did not move.

With a grimace the man added, “She loved you more than anything. And for that my hate is now forever equal to her love.”

The Angel of Death broke his silence to whisper but a single name. The name of his son.

“Matityah.”

No crash of thunder accompanied the name, no gust of wind. Only now a lifeless eyes and spiritless body dangled from the angel’s grasp. The body slowly and ever so gently was laid across the rain-slicked stones. With a gesture rocks turned to dust and mud, and his son’s body sank within the earth’s all encompassing embrace.

That is how Gabriel found him: standing to the side of wet packed earth and staring out over an onrushing ocean eager to fill all the lands below with salt and sea.

“Are you ready, brother?” she asked him.

“Yes.”

“Camael and his cohort have chosen to remain within to see this day done. Thus we only need to set the seals in place and go.”

“I stay and also go. For that too must be.”

Gabriel, the braids of her strawberry hair soaking the rain and somehow making her appear even more beautiful, stared at him with surprise.

Lifting the scythe Azrael extended his left arm. Before Gabriel could shout a protest the blade descended and a neatly severed black hand landed upon the freshly created grave.

The angel of Death pointed the scythe at the hand whose blood now pooled across the muddy ground. “Thus do I remain. Thus do I go.” With wounded arm held against his chest, Azrael spread wings of darkest night and with a mighty beat of thunderous feathers faded beyond the world.

“Oh Azrael,” Gabriel breathed as she watched the pooling blood draw matter upwards from the earth. Matityah’s body provided the raw material coalescing onto the stump of the wrist, growing quickly into an arm and then a chest, until another Azrael complete with clothes, boots, and cloak rose to stand before her.

Missing only the Scythe and already bound to the Cycle of Life upon this world.

This Azrael regarded his sister and spoke. “It is time.”

With a nod she moved closer, her wings of purest white spreading out behind to capture the lines of energy crossing through the realms of dream and spirit even as matching ebony feathers spread out around her brother to capture the force lines of physicality.

Each extended a hand towards the other: her right palm almost touching his left, almost touching that which had spawned the rest of his form.

Together with words and will they sealed the world.

 

Isaiah removed his glasses, folding and placing them with care upon the arm of the bench. He made it two steps before knees buckled under the weight of crushing and unstoppable tears. A terrible groan escaped the pit of his stomach forcing its way past lips and teeth, growing in furor with each sharp intake of breath until all the nearby forest echoed and shook from the release of pain entombed for thousands upon thousands of years.

Panting he found himself staring at a hand which was his but not his. The darkness of the skin had spread to cover fingers and wrist, black tendrils creeping further up the arm. With a croak he threw a whisper towards the sky.

“How, Lord? How could this be just?”

The distant stars offered no reply.

 

Chapter 24 - Seeking

Having been stuck on stand-by and barely making it onto the last flight out of El Paso, I arrived back at Hawthorne cottage way past curfew and promptly fell into bed. Khan decided I needed sleep because instead of curling up to my side for the usual belly rub session he instead flopped onto the pillow above my head. The cute little bugger then tried to ‘clean’ my hair, requiring an emergency removal of long strands from his mouth after he attempted to swallow a few which were still very much attached. Making a mental note to wash my hair thoroughly come morning, I rolled over and passed out.

If the time spent between worlds counted then I hadn’t slept in over five days. While the physical need for sleep mostly reset each time I powered up, given all the shocks and revelations the subconscious had reached a limit. The next thing I knew the sun was halfway through its morning jog and Khan was meowing insistently about his utter lack of breakfast.

Yes, he was given his tasty foods before I stumbled off to the showers.

After standing under the hot water for longer than intended, I got dressed and finally flipped the cell phone out of the airplane mode I’d ‘accidentally’ left it in. The device immediately chirped loudly with a flood of waiting messages.

Scanning through them I got caught up: Danielle had, much to her expressed annoyance, been moved off campus by the DPA to an undisclosed location, Erica had arrived in the late afternoon and with Natalie’s supervision met with Tamara and Zap so they could find Zap’s special pyramid, Director Goodman wanted to set up a conference call with the powers-that-be regarding the whole threat of an even larger psychic nuke scenario, and lastly Jenna reported that Khan had been fed his dinner and that she could neither confirm nor deny any reports of him having been given a spoonful of melted vanilla ice cream.

I tried asking him about it but he feigned innocence while purring against an ankle. Totally suspicious.

Before going to the cafeteria I responded to two of the messages. First was to text Danielle saying I loved her and for her to be safe, and the second was to Jenna to thank her for taking such good care of my kitty. I’d deal with the gang searching the pyramids after breakfast, and as for the Director I left that thread alone.

When I’d spoken to Kami Kurohoshi about the situation before leaving El Paso he’d advised that I could be ordered to stay in the country and to stay quiet until he’d made more arrangements.

Fine with me.

In the middle of enjoying a non-military-guarded bacon and swiss omelet, Tsáyidiel made contact. This manifested as a tickle in the brain until I finally figured it out between bites of a perfectly toasted bagel and opened the mental connection.

“Tsáyidiel, is that you?”

“It is, milady. I have news.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Set and the fae queen are indeed together. However they have entered realms where I cannot follow without causing a disturbance.”

“Oh? Where’d they go?”

“Into the paths of the Egyptian dead, milady. Paths guarded by Osiris. Were I to enter it would be noticed and I would be underpowered without your presence. Doing so could also cause you difficulties.”

“Difficulties? For me?”

“Political ones. You have no agreements in place for safe passage of you and yours through Kemetic domains. Perhaps if Prince Heru were to join me I could continue, but even then lengthy negotiations would be required and likely make the effort of tailing the targets moot.”

Well shit. “Alright. Thanks for the update. Head on back to Gabriel’s realm then.”

He must’ve sensed my disappointment. “My apologies, milady. Your instructions were to remain unseen. Have I erred?”

“Good grief, no! You’ve done fine!”

“Thank you, milady.” His relief washed over me. Between him and Kokabiel I was beginning to wonder if angels were akin to puppies: needing constant love and support.

Granted if I’d been horribly abused for thousands of years like they’d been under Azazel’s control I’d probably react that way too.

I spent the rest of the meal thinking about them and how much I’d love to kick Azazel where it hurts. Camael - wherever the hell he was - may have done that already but I’d still like my own shot at the bastard.

After dropping off the cafeteria tray I called Natalie hoping to arrange a ride to Erica’s hotel. Apparently Tamara and Zap were already over there for the day so they could continue their efforts. She said she’d been expecting my call and to meet her in the staff parking lot.

When I got there Natalie was already waiting by an eminently practical white Toyota Camry. A pair of mobile windshield repair trucks were moving down the line of cars as they all needed new glass to replace the damage from the bomb’s shockwave.

She noticed my raised eyebrow at her car being fully intact while sitting in the middle of the broken ones waiting their turn. “This isn’t mine. It’s a rental. Hop on in.”

I climbed inside and buckled up.

It wasn’t until we’d cleared the campus gargoyles that she turned off the classical music CD and its softer selections from Mozart.

“How was El Paso?” she asked, pretending to sound casual. “Find out anything?”

“They haven’t filled you in?”

Her lips pursed. “No. I was only told that for now I should monitor and assist you students as best as possible.”

“Oh.” Mark had informed me that everything had been declared ‘classified’, especially with regards to the possible larger bomb on the loose. If the DPA hadn’t told Natalie about it all, that put me in a rather weird spot. “I’m sorry but I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say.”

“I was afraid of that.” Tense fingers on the steering wheel forcibly relaxed as she sighed. “Don’t feel bad, if that’s how it is then best not tell me.”

“I can say this much: what we discovered sucked rocks. Like industrial vacuum levels.”

“You guys are trying to deal with it though, right? Erica’s return and involvement was rather surprising.”

“How’d it go between her and Tamara?”

“Awkward. Erica was terse but I believe genuine in her apology. She really does seem to be a much different person from who she was when she fled the school.”

“She is.”

“Has she told you about her experience? I’m not asking you for the details; I’m just hoping she has at least one person to confide in. The damage is clearly not just physical, though I am also concerned about that.”

“I’ve talked with her some.” Yet more things I couldn’t tell her about, darnit. It wasn’t a state secret, but I doubted Erica wanted me to blab about her struggles with fae energy withdrawal.

“Good. How about you? How are you holding up?”

“Me? I feel like I’m barely holding myself together using nothing more than chewing gum and toothpicks. I’m angry and scared, doc. And overwhelmed.”

“For some clients I encourage them to take a step back, to realize that the weight of the world really isn’t on their shoulders.” She turned the car onto the main highway heading towards town. “That’s probably not going to work in this case, is it?”

I found myself bursting into laughter. “Nope! Not a chance!” It wasn’t really that funny but I had to either laugh at the absurdity of it all or collapse into tears.

She beamed a sympathetic smile before returning her attention to the road and I sat there thunderstruck. There, in that one moment, the compassion within her bespectacled eyes matched perfectly a love and care I’d witnessed before.

Gabriel’s. When she had held me in the light after I’d died in the storage unit and was crying with despair. I’d told her I couldn’t bear it if Danielle were to die, that I had to save her. “Hold onto that purpose with all that you can muster,” she had said. “And go.”

Natalie noticed the sudden break in my laughter. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just remembering something important.”

She risked another glance over to me. Her therapist instincts were good; she didn’t say anything more.

~o~O~o~

 

Zap was scowling as he leaned against a wall in the rather spacious hotel room. Erica sat at the table staring down at a glowing crystal globe complete with hand-etched outlines of continents. The sphere eerily lit up the side of the earth where the sun should be shining while the night-side glittered with clustered cities mostly clinging to the beaches and rivers. Tamara hovered nearby anxiously holding a cup of tea while watching Erica handle her mother’s most prized possession.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing there to see,” Erica grumbled to Zap after opening her eyes again.

“You’ve got to keep looking. It’s there.”

It was weird seeing Erica back in her teenage body after meeting her in the fae realms. What’s worse was how dark and tired her eyes were, yet still burning with purpose over sunken cheeks.

Frowning, Erica returned a finger over the globe’s miniature Egypt as it inched closer to the line demarking sunset. “I still can’t believe your mother is letting me use this.”

Tamara set her tea down again, fingers twitching. “Mom isn’t. When I asked she stared mutely for a minute before handing me the bag and saying she was lending it only to me. She then added that what I did with it from there was strictly against my own karma. Be it for good or ill.”

Erica paused to look up at Tamara. “Thank you.”

Shrugging uncomfortably Tamara muttered, “Just don’t break it.”

“I won’t,” Erica said solemnly before closing her eyes to refocus. From the tip of her finger a small spark crossed the gap between sphere and skin, pulsing and shifting according to her concentration in a delicate dance of control. In some ways it was like astral projection except her spirit was still here, the crystal was retuning her perceptions to an entirely different place: Giza. Home to the biggest pyramids - and the Sphinx, of course.

Talking while not breaking the connection, Erica said, “I’m staring at the main pyramids now. I can even probe right inside, there’s no wards or anything to stop me. Which is surprising unless they all ran out of juice millennia ago.”

“The machine is still there,” Zap insisted.

“And you know this how?”

“Thoth.”

“Well then get him on the line to tell us how to see it,” she snapped. “Because I’m getting squat.”

Zap turned to me where I sat cross-legged on the small red couch. “This is pointless. I need to just get there and look in person.”

“We’re working on that,” I told him. Stretching out my legs to keep the blood flowing despite the tightness of the jeans, I stood up. “But we’d likely have the same problems seeing this magic machine thing in person as she’s having with the crystal.” I frowned. “The guy who built it, what was his name again?”

“Imhotep.”

“Yeah. Imhotep. He probably hid it to keep anyone from messing with it, right?”

“If he was smart that’s what he’d have done,” Erica said. “You thinking there’s a password?”

“Like that door in Lord of the Rings?” piped up Tamara. “‘Speak friend and enter.' Zap, you remember any riddle things like that?”

Zap crossed his arms. “No.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Could he have, uh, phased it out of normal space? I just saw that sort of thing in El Paso, though it took some serious mojo power to pull off.”

Erica broke off her focus to consider. “Zap said the structure was built from magic energies on the spirit-side.”

“It was,” he agreed.

I shook my head. “But doesn’t the spirit sorta ride along with the physical? What’s the effect if that physical part is shoved out of phase with things - won’t that pull the spirit along with it?”

“Maybe,” she said. “You’re right though that it would take a constant source of power to maintain. Otherwise it’d synchronize again as a shift like that is unnatural. And while the pyramids may have been built on sites of ley energies thousands of years ago, I’m not feeling much of anything there now.”

Tamara, eyes wide with rising excitement, blurted, “Ley lines! And death!”

We all stared at her.

Waving hands through the air Tamara continued. “Think about it! The pyramids are these huge tombs, right? And they buried a lot more than just the pharaohs around them. Like all their families, servants, even a ton of animals, all were buried to support the pharaohs in their afterlives. They’re like a massive platform to have the best stepping off point into the Egyptian lands of the dead. And Erica is not a necromancer.”

Erica blinked. “No. I’m not. But I’ve studied it.”

“Whateley doesn’t teach necromancy,” Zap said, looking at Erica suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it doesn’t. But my father, in addition to the forbidden cache of things he should never have kept in the same house as a curious over-talented child, also had a number of particularly dangerous tomes.”

“Let me guess,” Tamara said. “You read them all.”

“Read them?” Erica snorted. “I memorized them.”

Zap stared at the floor in obvious thought. His moppish head of hair fell over his face but he didn’t brush the strands aside. “That’s how it all works.”

I was about to ask him what he meant but Tamara stopped me with a hand on one of the bracers over my wrists. “Hush. He’s onto something.”

Pulling away from the wall Zap paced behind the table, still gazing at the carpet with slumped shoulders. Then he looked up to meet Erica’s watching gaze through the forest of those bangs. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“I think you’re right,” she nodded.

“Hello?” I said. “Want to fill in those of us who are clearly idiots?”

Zap finally pushed the hair out of the way and smiled at me. “You’re not an idiot. But I’ll let Erica explain.”

Erica gave an amused smirk. “Yeah, fine. Gaia’s energy, that which was locked away so it wouldn’t be bled utterly dry beyond recovery, is based on - and fueled by - life. But there is energy in death as well. Necromantic resonance.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “That’s what Zakiel has been collecting in those crystals for the bombs, right?”

Erica agreed. “Exactly. So how do you build a containment mechanism - a dam - to keep a flood of life energy from overwhelming a world?”

“Uh…”

“You build it out of necromantic power,” she said. “Death and Life, equal and opposite. Use one to constrain the other.”

“Okay. But how does this help you find the pyramid with the control structure?”

“It means I just need to retune to the proper frequency,” Erica said with a shrug.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

She gestured casually. “Ritual sacrifice would work. Someone or something has to die.”

I gaped at her. “Something? Like what?”

“Has to be a big enough death,” she mused. “A cat would do.”

“Fuck no!” I gasped. “That is so not happening!”

She regarded me all too coolly. “We could go to a local shelter and find one that’s already terminal if that would ease your conscience. But I’ve seen you eat steak so refusal to use a death to save the world is rather hypocritical.”

“Then get a damn cow! But no cats!” Both fists clenched stubbornly. “No dogs either.”

Zap gently touched my shoulder. “There’s another way.”

Erica raised a clearly amused eyebrow at him. “What do you have in mind?”

He squeezed briefly then let go. “Ordinarily I’d suggest invoking Anubis, but we don’t need him.”

She raised the other brow to match. “Interesting. Explain.”

“We have Jordan. And therefore we have Amariel. She’s not really an incarnate so she’s neither alive nor dead. I bet she can take your spirit across the boundary and back directly.”

All faces turned towards me while I blinked. “Oh shit.”

Erica objected. “I doubt Jordan knows how to do that and as much as I don’t mind certain levels of risk, I also don’t wish to die. Not permanently.”

“But I do know how,” I said quietly. Dark wings cut through my thoughts with the memory of the SUV’s cabin before those wings pulled skyward, sharp claws tightly carrying their gathered prize. “I saw it done. In Syria. I watched Kokabiel pull Miguel’s soul from his body by force. I chased after them into this tunnel before he could slip past Azrael’s curtain. Except I only got him out of there because Azrael let him choose whether to stay or to go.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Erica broke the silence. “Actually I shouldn’t need to be pulled out completely. I just need my spirit disassociated enough to effectively perceive the right channel while using the orb. That’s what a ritual death would provide in the first place: a ride on the resonance of the death to align the perceptions.”

“What if I pull too hard?” I asked, feeling the butterflies in my stomach gather nervously.

“Then you shove me back in,” she said with a scowl. “And we get Tamara to do a life circle around us first to help if need be. Ra-eye boy here should guard us while channeling sun energy to make the circle even more complete.”

“We’ll need to do this outside then,” Zap said.

“No shit, Heru-lock,” said Erica. “The forest starts behind the hotel; there are trails all over the place.”

Tamara carefully began to wrap the crystal orb in the patterned green silk her mother kept it in. “Pack up what you’ll need everyone. Bring plenty of water.” She considered for a moment. “And snacks. Definitely snacks.”

~o~O~o~

 

It took awhile to find a spot that suited both Tamara and Zap. She wanted a lush green area and Zap wanted maximum exposure to the sun’s track across the sky. Thus a group of teenagers - two of whom were not really kids - meandered around the trails past thick trees for over an hour. At least it wasn’t hot. The whole thing was surreal considering the last time three of us were in a forest together was because the fourth had caused one of us to be possessed by a demon.

Fortunately no one mentioned this. That would have been rather awkward.

Eventually a location was agreed upon and with everyone’s assistance Tamara finished creating a pentacle out of tree branches with the circle large enough for Erica to lie within and for me to kneel at her side. The crystal orb, resting atop Erica’s chest and stomach, cast a piercingly bright reflection of the sun above. Zap stood outside the branches, moving to a spot where a lance of sunlight could strike his bare (and nicely muscled) chest. The rays penetrated the skin to envelop him with this golden aura pulsing in time with the flashes shining from his right eye. As the aura danced his face blurred between the young man he was and the hawk-headed god of his spirit.

Tamara, also standing outside the circle, chanted quietly while weaving trails in the air with her fingers. Sigils flowed from those fingertips to spiral outward and merge with the circle’s branches, forging a mystic space where the connections to all the forests’ many aspects of life were made even stronger yet. Leaves on the underside of those branches rustled as tendrils of fresh roots crept out from the bark to plunge downward into the soft earth underneath.

Erica shifted the orb around so the palm of her hand landed squarely over Egypt. Muttering so only I could hear she said, “She’s gotten stronger, hasn’t she.”

Equally hushed, I replied. “Tamara? After last summer her dedication and focus to magic studies has been, well, fanatical.”

With terse exhalation Erica said, “And now my life is in her hands. Fate’s strange sense of humor. You ready to do your part, angel?”

“Only if you are.” Part of me hoped she’d say she wasn’t and we could call this whole thing off. Doing one’s best to ‘almost’ kill someone is not something I was comfortable with. What was left unsaid is that while Tamara may be holding her life, I was about to hold her soul.

Erica was undeterred. “Do it.”

With an unspoken mental prayer a hand of white fire plunged into Erica’s chest and pulled.

 

Three triangles sat within the silhouetted darkness framed by the passing of Ra’s reddish-gold power over the world below. Crystalline fingers of light stretched like long streams of clouds towards the gold-clad pyramids, and in that large shining hand stood a single tiny passenger.

The palm’s rider, a woman wearing a simple white gown, took in her surroundings and issued a sharp command. “Carry me forward. To the center.”

Doing as it was bid, the hand lowered the woman closer to the entrance of the middle pyramid.

When only a few yards away the passenger signaled a halt. “Wait. We are not alone.”

Three men stood between her and the dark passage leading below the ancient tomb. Shaved heads were covered by cloths of striped blue and gold, two parts hanging alongside their ears to their shoulders with the back tied and braided within gold rings. Their chests were armored, crossing wings of gold relief embossed with azure gems all lying under a golden circle sweeping from shoulder to shoulder. Vambraces wrapped wrists with matching guards for shins, and more of the blue cloth fell to their knees as simple skirts held in place by equally ornate belts.

They each bore a spear of a black metal which absorbed light as if draining the sun into places men were never meant to tread.

The three spoke one after the other, their voices echoing from each pyramid in turn:

“Who seeks that which was?”

“Who seeks that which is?”

“Who seeks that which shall be?”

The woman riding the iridescent hand did not hesitate to answer. “I do.”

Again the men spoke in turn, booming their challenge across the desert.

“What do you offer the past?”

“What do you offer the present?”

“What do you offer the future?”

The woman gave immediate reply. “I offer only what I truly possess: myself.”

The three bowed their heads, turning to point sharp spear-tips at the dark stone opening that led under the central structure. In unison they gave command. “The seeker shall approach. The seeker shall prove the offer worthy. Only then shall the seeker be granted audience.”

“Then I approach.” A wind flowing out of the darkness below the pyramid rustled the woman’s dress. “Set me down, angel.”

Carefully the hand sank to the ground and its passenger walked bare-footed across the sand towards the tallest of the pyramids.

From within the shadows of the entrance crimson and gold sparks flickered from some hidden inner fire, swarming through the air between the woman and the stones as if alive to thicken into a rapidly shifting collection of hieroglyphs towering over her.

The images gained speed: fish, people, gods and goddesses, birds, stones, reeds, orbs. The symbols flashed in an endless sequence.

To the angel’s eyes of light the meanings were transparent, a language layering itself over the underlying structural patterns of this place. But the woman, sensing the angel’s innate understanding, quickly cautioned her transport to silence.

“No. Say nothing. I have to solve this alone.” So saying the woman sat in the dust to watch the display with a singular intensity.

Compassionate desire to help pulsed outward but the angel remained silent as bidden.

Long did the woman study the display, muttering occasional comments to herself as the minutes ticked past:

“This is not a simple challenge and response gateway.”

“The sequence repeats. It also expands.”

“Patterns representing more patterns. One symbol abstracted for many.”

“Something larger is projecting these forward. And it’s on a loop.”

Frowning the woman stared in enraptured focus, mind chipping away at seemingly endless possibilities of the magical working flashing across her eyes.

The angel began to shine with concern. Waiting too long carried compounded risk.

“Dammit, hang on. I’ve got something…” The woman’s speech broke off as eyes went wide with rare excitement. “I’m an idiot! And he’s a bloody genius!” Rising to her feet she reached towards the glyphs, pausing until the one she wanted flickered into view whereupon she seized it, pulling it free from the rest and leaving it hovering at her side.

This action she proceeded to repeat until a line of images surrounded her on all sides. Stepping back she examined them before nodding in satisfaction. “Okay you brilliant bastard, let’s do this.” Spreading arms wide she gathered the set of pictures into a single clump. With a command of “Run simulacrum!” she shoved her set of images straight through the wall still pulsing before her.

An explosion of light burst forth from the impact, but instead of dissipating outward it spun back to the center to pull the entire display together, coalescing into the image of a bald man dressed only in a small white loin-cloth.

The man regarded the woman with eyes forged of emeralds touched by flecks of golden sparks. “The seeker has demonstrated knowledge. That alone does not prove worth. Answer true, oh seeker. What do you seek over all other things?”

The woman paused. “More than all things?” Her eyes narrowed and she gave a bitter answer. “I seek to never again be a slave.”

Those remarkable eyes closed and he bowed his head. “I too have known the bondage of rod and whip.”

“Yeah, the scars are a bitch.”

His eyes opened to regard her again but now glowed with a new respect. “Tell me, seeker. Has the time come? Is divine purpose upon us?”

“Hell yes. The seal is about to break. So show me how to drive this damn thing.”

“You already possess this knowledge. To pass the challenge is to know my secrets.”

She shook her head. “Not quite. I need to know where to stand to do it.”

His head tilted. “To seek the new, one must stand at the beginning.”

“That simple, eh?” A wry grin parted her lips.

“But do not delay,” he added, turning his attention to a place distant in the darkness of the sky where night had already claimed its domain. “For others come. Ones who seek power for their own terrible freedom.”

“Got it. Angel, get me out of here.”

The hand of light lifted from under the sands to carry her upwards. With a quick burst of will, the soul was sent back along the silver cord leading to her waiting body and to where her companions’ efforts had kept the connection strong between body and spirit.

But curiosity tugged and the angel looked to where the man forged of magic had indicated. There, far in the distant plane to which the pyramids truly belonged, a strange-headed being of chaotic malevolence escorted a lady terrible in the beauty of armored bark turned black by flame. The pair traversed a labyrinth constructed of walls and sand whose dimensions warped beyond all rationality.

To the angel’s surprise the male with the head of an animal turned with a wide and sharp-toothed grin. Somehow he managed to speak across the distance between.

“I see you, little angel.”

With a laugh a spark of chaos slammed into the angel’s perceptions, knocking its carefully maintained focus sideways and causing the scene to fill with static like an old television tuned to an unused channel. In desperation the angel latched onto the only image immediately available: three triangles resting within shadow before a fiery sunset.

 

I tasted sand.

With a groan and a rising headache I rolled over. “Guys?” I asked, senses scrambled and confused. It was a lot warmer than it should have been and the air much drier. Eyes cracked open to blink themselves clear and peered upward.

Ancient stones, having long ago lost their once-brilliant gold coverings, towered mightily above the surrounding sand.

“Oh shit,” I squeaked. “I’m in Egypt.”

 

Chapter 25 - Patterns

The dark outline of a woman in a simple sun-dress and wide-brimmed hat blocked the image of the ancient stones.

“Are you alright?” she asked, in French of all things, before offering me a hand up.

Taking it I got to my feet and looked around, gawking in awe at where I’d suddenly found myself. Giza! With the three pyramids and sphinx! Holy crap!

“Here, you’ll also need this.” The woman plonked a straw hat matching her own upon my head before placing wrap-around sunglasses over my shocked expression. “Hmm. Those wrist-bands are a little large but passable as eccentric choices in jewelry. However we need to pin your hair up under the hat.”

Blinking away the pyramidal distractions I finally took a proper look at this woman who just so happened to be carrying a spare hat and glasses. Platinum hair, drop-dead sexy body with polished red nails setting off the roses adorning her dress, and a face somewhere between sixteen and thirty years of age - one which could launch a thousand ships with but a smile.

Needless to say my confusion bumped itself up at least three notches. “Alal?”

“Of course!” She answered brightly. “Who else? Now turn around and let’s get this distinctive hair taken care of.”

“Wait,” I said as her hands spun my shoulders around so they could begin braiding my hair. “You’re not a dream?”

She gave a silver-chimed laugh. “Aren’t we all?”

“But on the plane. Weeks ago. You disappeared.”

“Considering your method of arrival here is that really all that surprising?”

“I… Hey! Did you pull me here?”

Fingers made quick work weaving strands into a thick braid then curled it into a bun. “Not at all. You arrived all on your own.”

Teleportation? Slipping between the physical and spirit was one thing, but now this? “How?”

After adjusting the hat so it would fit properly upon my head she tilted her own back into place. “How else? Surely by now you have realized this much. That only for those like them does where they are define what they perceive.” She casually waved at a group of tourists standing closer to the Sphinx who were busily taking selfies and group shots.

“Only for them?”

“Absolutely. But for beings such as you or I it is what we perceive that defines where we are. You see?” She laughed again as if she’d made a joke. Sensing my confusion she gently patted my cheek. The hand was strangely cold. “You’ll figure it out. Shall we join the tour?”

Without waiting for an answer she took my hand and pulled us over to mingle with the tourists and their cameras and phones.

Wait a minute. Phones!

A quick check of what I was wearing (jeans, blank white t-shirt, and equally unlabeled white sneakers) revealed empty pockets. And no purse. I’d put it aside outside the circle, dammit.

“Crap. I don’t have my phone. Do you have one? My friends, they’re probably freaking out by now.”

She raised a perfect eyebrow. “What use would such a thing be to me?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe you’d want to call someone?”

Ignoring my statement she pointed at the Sphinx. “Look! Isn’t that marvelous? No nose! Despite common rumors, Napoleon didn’t shoot it off. In the 15th century they noted that it had been carved free by a Sufi named Muhammad Sa’im al-Dahr because silly peasants were making offerings to it. Couldn’t allow that, now could he?”

“Is that true?”

“According to their historian, it is. I was busy elsewhere at the time. They executed him for his misdeed, of course. Such a wonderful classic case of cutting off the nose to spite the face!” Immaculate teeth flashed a grin and I had that same uneasy feeling I’d had on the plane when she’d appeared before. She was beautiful beyond words but something was just not right.

She’d also just admitted to having been alive hundreds of years ago.

“Alal?” I asked tentatively, even as she tugged me further along around the ancient site. “Who are you?”

Her high heels stopped, spikes sinking into the sand. “I am, above all things, myself.”

“An angel?”

Instant anger flashed across soft skin with a rage so all-encompassing it transcended madness and ugliness to a level of perfection all its own. Just as quickly it disappeared, her expression returning to the amused superiority of before. “Absolutely not.”

Good grief, that wasn’t disturbing or anything.

“Then why are you helping me? I mean, you were here, with an extra hat ready, disguising me before anyone even noticed how I got here.”

“Why? Because for the first time the patterns of this prison lead to potentials of which I approve.”

“The seals. You want them broken.”

Her eyes didn’t gleam at the thought. No, they burned with a darkness beyond all darkness. “Oh what I desire is so much more than that.”

I shivered despite the warmth of the day.

“Now,” she said firmly. “Get on that tour bus over there. If you smile sweetly at the driver he won’t ask any questions. Keep the hat and glasses on and when you get to the hotel find a seat in the lobby.”

“Wait, you’re not going with me? Will you meet me there?” Her sudden practicality had driven home the truth that I was in Egypt without passport or identification. Not to mention any money. Gulp.

“As the pattern really enjoys its threes, we shall meet again. But not there. The bus is waiting, off you go!”

She pointed past a shoulder and I looked towards the parking lot. A group of tourists lined up to board one of those deluxe busses with high-backed seats. Turning back to her with another question I found she was already gone.

Because of course she was.

 

Getting on the bus had been as easy as Alal had said. The driver of the bus, a man in his late sixties who must not have seen a dentist since long before the Camp David Accords, just grinned crookedly at my chest while I boarded. He then turned to watch my ass until an older (and much stouter) couple from Germany blocked the view.

I took a seat way in the back by a window.

Soon enough we pulled out of the dusty parking lot and onto a road heading towards the ancient river that ran through the city, the setting sun now behind us. Having grown up in Los Angeles in the eighties I recognized a smog-covered sunset when I saw one. The sky was thick with the haze, painted gloriously by the sun’s crimson tints. The bus driver had packs of kleenex for sale to anyone having sinus issues due to the polluted air. Several passengers coughed up the cash and bought some as their eyes watered and noses dripped in protest.

As for the drive itself, it could only be described as Mario Cart on steroids. The road was wide enough for many lanes but their markings had faded so long ago they may as well have been laid down by the pharaohs. Not that anyone paid any mind to the notion of lanes in the first place, cars and trucks weaved chaotically through whatever openings may present themselves or could be forced by sheer chutzpah.

If I hadn’t already survived being kicked through a wall I think I’d have freaked out like many of the wide-eyed tourists holding onto flimsy armrests for dear life.

At least the main road was divided by the line of palm trees down the center providing an illusion of structure to the entire crazed process.

After only a few miles we curved off to the left as the Nile broke out in front of us, its waters dotted with various boats and trawlers. Further down an island split those waters where a single cylindrical building rose up to tower over the surrounding greenery. Which is precisely where we ended up after the bus crossed a bridge on the western side.

The cylinder turned out to be a hotel and a rather fancy one at that.

I followed the tourists off the bus and into the lobby, trying not to gawk at the high ceiling and huge crystal chandeliers. Making my way to a white chair in the middle with a view of the check-in desk and entrance, I plopped down on its cushion like any other annoyed and bored teen-ager stuck waiting for overly-rich parents who had rudely taken away her phone. You know, in retaliation for an obviously bad attitude towards the entire foreign vacation experience.

This was amazingly effective. Both guests and the staff ignored me completely. No one wanted to risk an interaction with a surly spoiled brat if they could avoid it. Of course maintaining the pose for minutes on end was tiring. I mean how many exaggerated sighs and re-crossing of one’s arms can one do without the performance bordering on comedy?

One had to add in a number of exasperated eye-rolls towards the elevators just to mix up the routine.

Unfortunately I’d not escaped all attention. A bell-boy youth kept staring every time he walked past - and not in a good way. He had a disturbing leer which widened with each pass even though I had done my best to not acknowledge his entire existence.

Monitoring his position in the reflections off the tall arching windows, I caught when he decided that now was his time to make a move as he changed course to head directly towards my set of lounge chairs. Shit.

I was mid-prep in mentally charting a path to the girl’s restroom to hide when a mountain of muscle emerged from an elevator wearing custom-tailored silk slacks and a matching dark blazer.

Those shoulders and bulging biceps were awfully familiar.

Scrambling out of the chair I ran across the lobby leaving my erstwhile creepy suitor stuck reconsidering his current plans.

As for muscles, combat-honed awareness had him spinning around to appraise a possible threat only to see a girl wearing sunglasses and a wide hat barreling towards him.

“Fred!” I shouted with a wide grin.

He frowned before recognition kicked in. “Holy shit. Princess?”

My arms wrapped around his wide chest without thinking. Fred, a.k.a. ‘Doc’, had led the team in Syria where we had saved Kokabiel and prevented Azazel from getting his hands on the Book of Raziel. He worked for Kami Kurohoshi and if he was here then I was no longer alone and penniless in a far away land.

I damn near sobbed into his pectorals with relief.

 

Once I’d gotten my emotions under control again Fred cautioned that I should say nothing and ushered me to the elevators. We went up to a suite that required his hotel key-card to even arrive at the right floor.

“Sit,” he commanded, pointing at a couch. I did so and he strode into the next room, giving me time to check out the suite. In addition to the amazingly comfortable couch the room had an incredible view of the Nile which stretched forth before us as this long water snake. The room also had a full-on computer command center setup with consoles for three people and a ton of wide-screen displays.

All of which were showing satellite maps to various pyramids.

“Alright.” Fred emerged from one of the bedrooms with a rather sleepy hacker following behind. The groggy guy was rather scrawny and wearing only a battered old pair of Deadpool sweatpants.

“Princess.” The sleepy dude nodded his greeting, and if he was surprised to see me he didn’t show it.

“Hey Derek.”

“Coffee?” The hacker pointed to a gourmet espresso machine that occupied a good chunk of the kitchen’s counter space.

“Uh, got any tea?”

He made a face. “Eh, maybe. Lemme see.”

Fred shook his head, taking a seat in a leather recliner opposite the couch. “That can wait. We need a secure line out.” He waved a satellite phone at Derek.

“Fine, fine!” grumbled Derek. “Whatever happened to hospitality.”

“Now,” Fred scowled.

Derek shrugged apologetically to me. Flipping sandy bangs aside, he stretched out skinny fingers then let them fly across a keyboard. He didn’t bother with the office chair. “There ya go, man.”

“Is it tight?” asked Fred.

“Tighter than the bond between Siamese twins.” Derek yawned and headed into the kitchen, hopefully to fulfill the promise of caffeine for all.

Fred dialed the phone. It didn’t take more than one ring for someone to answer. He skipped the polite hellos.

“This is Doc. I need to speak to the boss. Like now.” Pause. “I don’t give a shit about what he’s doing, this is priority.” Shorter pause. “I’ll take all the damn responsibility, now get him on the line.” Longer pause. “Sir. The situation has changed.” Fred lifted his head to stare into my eyes. “The angel has arrived. Yes sir. She’s right here.”

He held out the phone. “Boss wants to talk.”

I took it while wondering if Erica could somehow intercept it in spite of Derek’s proclamations. “Heya Kami,” I said casually as if talking to an old friend.

Fred didn’t flinch but in the kitchen Derek fumbled a coffee mug onto the counter. Heh.

“Jordan Emrys,” said the dragon on the other end of the phone. “As of an hour ago intel placed you in New Hampshire after a jaunt to El Paso.”

“Yeah, well, I accidentally teleported here. To Giza.”

“Accidentally? Explain.”

I told him all about Erica using Tamara’s scrying sphere to try and unravel the mystery of Zap’s - okay technically Heru’s - ancient pyramid scheme to save the world from the potential mana flood.

“I think she figured it out,” I added. “But we’re out of time. Before slipping sideways face first into the sand here I saw Set and the queen making their way through the spirit world towards the pyramids. And he saw me in return.”

“Hmm.”

I had a sudden question. “Hey, what are Fred and Derek doing here though? I hadn’t had a chance yet to fill you in on the Egypt stuff. Seems like a crazy coincidence.”

“It isn’t. They are tracking cargo which was smuggled from El Paso into Mexico before being loaded onto a plane that landed in Cairo twelve hours ago. Diego’s daughter has kept us at least partially informed.” There was a hint of rebuke in his tone. Okay, so it was more than just a hint.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Kami. There’s just been so much going on.”

“You should endeavor to keep your allies more in the loop.”

“Okay okay, I get it!” My mind then latched what he’d said. “Wait, El Paso? To Cairo? Fuck! Are you saying the bomb has been moved to Egypt?”

“There is a high probability. We’re tracing the smugglers and the payments as well.”

“I bet those will lead back to the Grigori.”

“The Grigori?”

“Yeah. To Sariel. Something I found out from Zakiel - oh, he’s the one who harnessed the energies that Bishop used to make the bombs.”

“Sariel,” he repeated, his voice growling. “Then we know who to blame for the attack on my daughter.”

I swallowed. “Look, they only used a small device on the school. This new one could take out most of the middle east. And the queen could do the same with what she’s absorbed though she’ll save that power for the third seal.”

“And Sariel would use his to prevent her success.”

“Yeah.”

“Perhaps we should let him. He could weaken her before we make any attempts to confront her.”

“Not a good idea. I think if we’re not careful then the pyramids’ device to manage the energy surge could be destroyed. We need to protect that. Sariel might not even know about it and inadvertently wipe it out.”

“Then what do you believe are the alternatives?” He sounded like a teacher quizzing a student. Which given the gravity of the discussion was disturbing.

“Honestly? I think we try to win the race. Get Zap, Erica, and Danielle out here as quick as possible. Let Zap and Erica fire up the pyramid spirit-device thing and once it’s safely active try to get Danielle to blow that seal. Sariel, if I read things right, would probably withdraw to preserve the trump card of his bomb for preventing the next seal from breaking instead. The queen might then be amiable to bargain her own retreat in exchange for Zap allowing enough mana to flow to all the incarnate fae so their spirit natures could all wake up.”

“Is that possible?”

“Hell if I know. But if that seal is gone and the machine works then I also bet Danielle would have access to enough power to shut the queen down if need be.”

“And if we don’t get there in time? What then?”

“Then we damn well do whatever we can to keep everyone across the world alive and sane! You got any better ideas?”

“Not at this time.”

“Okay then. Right. Uh, how should we go about getting them all flights? The DPA is also going to want to know what’s up. Could the U.S. military help us any?”

“Not directly. Not without causing an international incident. The situation in Egypt is tense at the moment and their military is nervous.”

I thought of Tsáyidiel’s comment about politics and domains. “Oh. Yeah, okay.”

“Leave the travel arrangements and discussions with the DPA to me. Use this phone to contact your friends and have them prepare. A car will arrive at the school to transport them to the airport within an hour.”

“Danielle should already be hidden by the DPA and won’t be at the school.”

“That will not be an issue.”

“Gotcha. Anything else I can do while I wait for everyone to get here?”

“Yes. Stay in the rooms at the hotel where you’re at. Room service only and don’t be seen.”

“Uhm, not that I’m really in the mood to play tourist and all, but why?”

“Sariel and the fae both will have agents already in the city. If you are discovered they could make a preemptive strike against you.”

“Oh.” Come to think of it Alal was awfully prepared to keep me hidden from the moment I popped onto the sand. She also knew which hotel to send me to. I was tempted to tell Kami about her but felt I shouldn’t, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. It just felt like it could be a possible distraction from where we really needed to remain focused.

Kami switched from instructor to commander mode. “Prepare for all contingencies at the site before moving. Inform Fred that further instructions will arrive shortly. And one other thing.” He paused.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

He hung up.

 

Chapter 26 - Commitment

Phone calls were made to the folks at Whateley to make the arrangements. Of them all the hardest was to Evie. I’d promised her to always say good-bye before leaving and here I’d managed to accidentally disappear yet again. In resignation to the seeming inevitable she’d changed the promise:

I now was sworn to always return.

After a dinner of some amazing kabob ordered up from a place next to the hotel the rest of the evening was spent trying to be unobtrusive while browsing the web on one of the available terminals. Meanwhile Derek was wheeling his chair between the other two typing like a fiend whacked out on cocaine.

I left him alone.

Instead I did some basic research on the Djoser Pyramid. It was the first pyramid ever built and the Egyptian ‘Antiquities Authority’ had recently hired a foreign firm to help fix the ceiling above the center burial chamber. There had been a nearby earthquake in 1992 and concern was high that the entire structure - not just that ceiling - was on the verge of collapse. With the more recent massive quake in Syria a month ago, there was now a lot more debate between professors and architects as to the best way to fix it. The discussions reflected a fair amount of confusion due to various authorities not wanting to take responsibility for any actual decisions. It was clear though that the pyramid could fall in on itself at any moment.

Which was just freaking fantastic news and didn’t totally add an entirely new fucked up dimension to us going out there.

I was groaning when Fred brought me a fresh cup of tea. As for himself he held a large mug of coffee and sat down nearby to take a deep swig. He must’ve dumped a plantation’s worth of sugar in that mug as I could smell the sweetness from a few feet away.

“Hey, Fred?” I asked before blowing across the top of my cup.

“Hmm?”

“I never did find out what all happened on the ground back in Aleppo while I was busy being a punching bag in the sky.”

“Oh,” he grinned. “Nothing much, really. I kept trying to revive Miggy while your buddy Nick played footsie with a devisor-power boosted geomancer.”

“A what?”

“Earth magic. Guy was lifting the ground and smacking us with it. Nick kept blocking his spellwork.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Your sorcerer ran out of juice doing that too. If Miggy hadn’t woken up in time to nuke the geomancer’s ass we’d have been smeared across the highway.”

“Huh.” I took a sip of tea. Dangit, still too hot. “Wait a minute. When I got down there Nick was busy throwing shields up against Soren. How’d he do that if he was already tapped out?”

Fred leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. “Oh that? Well I’ve got what has been termed as ‘mana-enriched’ blood. Usually fuels folks’ healing. But Nick figured out I could act as a battery for a mage just like our dearly departed friend the geomancer was using. Damn near drained me dry too, but it worked.”

“That’s pretty clever.”

“Nick struck me as a pretty sharp guy and kept his cool under fire. Sharp enough that I’d hate to go up against him. He clearly plays for keeps.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to.”

“I hear that. Enjoy the tea. Then I’d suggest trying to get some sleep.” The big man stretched before getting up. “I’ve got a few more things to do before I can try that myself.”

“Okay. Thanks, Fred.”

“You bet.”

He walked off, taking his over-sized coffee mug with him. On its side was a red-cross emblem painted to look like it was being held together by strips of duct tape and even a patch of chewing gum.

Cute.

Deciding that while the tea was very good even more caffeine was probably not, I took the cup into my room and set it aside. Then I tried to get some sleep.

Yeah, that didn’t work. Every time I’d just about drift off I’d panic and worry I was going to slip off to some other dream realm, grabbing at the sheets to make sure I was still there. Eventually I gave up and just watched random things on the television with the volume turned down while pretending I wasn’t worrying myself sick about how the heck we were going to stop a mad faerie queen and an entire chorus of freaking out fallen angels.

The whole conversation about the throne in Heaven with Armaros tried to intrude as well, but nope. Wasn’t going there. I could only handle so much insanity at once and was already far beyond my limits.

At around six a.m. Fred poked his head into my room.

“Hey there, Princess,” the big guy said. “The team is gathering. Rise and…shine.” He smirked.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I grumbled.

Having only one set of clothes it didn’t take long to freshen up and stumble out to where some new folks were already hanging out in front of the view over the Nile. An African woman with a commanding presence making her seem taller than she actually was stood at the windows. She wore a similar tactical outfit to Fred with all the pockets for ammo plus other goodies and she had her hands clasped behind her back with thick boots planted as if at attention. A military camo-style cap perched over a short buzz cut completed the ‘don’t-mess-with-me-dumbass’ look.

Sitting in chairs opposite were another woman and a man. Neither of these two looked like they’d slept much recently and the blue-haired woman was glaring angrily at the guy who in turn was pointedly ignoring her. Across his lap stretched a coat about the same color as the hands busily sewing up several large cuts in the tanned leather. He was murmuring as he did so and I could feel the flow of power from the words as they merged with the thread and material to seal not just the fabric but spells entwined into the coat which had been damaged by whatever had sliced it up. Fred’s transfusion case sat on the table beside him along with a wad of used bandages and tubing.

I tensed abruptly. “Fred,” I said under my breath, “Are those two who I think they are?”

A big hand pressed into my shoulder. “They were sent by the boss. Is there a problem?”

Light other than the morning sun’s filled the room. “You’re goddamn right there’s a problem!” I snarled, stepping forward and jerking free from Fred’s grip.

The blue-haired woman instinctively pulled her feet up as if preparing to leap into action. The man’s eyes narrowed as if attempting to decide how much of a threat I actually presented.

If he only knew.

Her blue hair and the residual swelling along the guy’s jaw despite Fred’s blood treatment made it clear. These two were the assassins who’d tried to kill Danielle.

They’d escaped the military, they weren’t going to do so from me.

“Oh shit,” Fred was yelling. “Isong!”

With a shout of my own a bowling ball sized spark lanced outward from my hand towards the still-seated jerk, one aimed to knock his nose into his back teeth.

To my surprise the blast didn’t land. The lady at the window clapped, sending a shockwave ripping through the air which solidified as a speckled turquoise shield of power in front of the assassin. As the light shredded through the barrier she spun her hands and the shield rotated sideways deflecting the rest of the energy off to the side.

Instead of his face it was the window that shattered, glass shards streaming towards the river below like fireworks glowing brightly before their fizzling end.

“Aradia! Enough!” cracked the voice of the woman who had launched the shield.

Another volley was ready in my hand but I held onto it. “They’re killers!”

“Stand down!” the woman commanded as she stepped between me and the stunned pair.

“I don’t know who you are lady but get out of my way!” A second ball of power flickered into my other hand.

The blue-haired woman’s eyes narrowed in concentration and the air near me twisted, like warps in the pattern of space. Danielle had told me about her, so I knew what that meant. I prepared to drop the human guise and use my powered wings as shields.

“Don’t!” barked the military lady but this time towards the other woman. “Tanya, break the agreement at your peril. Same goes for you Hassan.”

The man was staring at the edges of glass along the windowsill still shimmering with the residues of light. “Prime,” Hassan said, bruised jaw gaping with awe. “She wields prime.”

“The agreement doesn’t prevent me from defending myself!” Tanya protested, half standing on her chair. “I’ll stand down if she does!”

The lady in the cap was spreading her hands apart to prepare another one of her energy shields when the door to the suite behind me opened. I didn’t turn to look, keeping focus on the two deserving justice but also wary of what the tactical lady might do.

“Hola everybody!” proclaimed a man whose voice I recognized. Miguel, the third member of Kurohoshi’s team in Syria. “I got the kids…whoa, what the hell?”

“Stay cool, Miggy,” cautioned Fred. “Captain Isong’s got this.”

I sure as shit didn’t agree with that. Visions of all those innocent girls helpless in their beds from the psychic bomb filled my head along with all of Haruko’s new scars. The orbs in my hands gained intensity. Two orbs, two targets, and I bet if I filled them with enough intensity Isong’s shields would shred like paper.

Danielle’s tired voice interrupted the thought. “For fuck’s sake, Jordan. Put those away or I’ll launch you out the window into the river just to cool your ass off.”

“But they’re-”

“I know who they are,” she said firmly. “Kami filled me in while we were in the air. Now behave!”

She sounded so much like my sister I flinched and my hands lowered. “Surely he wants them dead too?”

Isong moved closer, still keeping herself between me and my targets. “The Colonel gave them a choice after explaining the depths of the mistakes they had made. They chose servitude.”

“You can’t trust them!” I growled. “They could back-stab us and return to Sariel.”

Tanya piped up from behind Isong. “For what it’s worth, if Hassan had told me up front what the mission was I’d never have taken it.”

“And him?” I pointed a bright finger at Hassan. “What’s his excuse? He knew exactly what the hell he was doing!”

Keeping hands carefully placed atop the coat he was mending, Hassan met my accusing glare with a steady and unflinching gaze. “I took a job which was offered for a price they knew I could never refuse. I have no excuse that would satisfy you.”

“Jesus,” Fred muttered. “You aren’t helping yourself there buddy.”

Yeah, I had to agree with Fred. “So money is more important to you than innocent lives?! Kami may have offered you a deal but I was never a party to that!”

“Money is nothing. Knowledge, that is everything.” Hassan’s fingers pressed into the leather.

His words made me sick. “Then you’d betray us in an instant to gain whatever Sariel offered.”

“The dragon has made it clear that I will cease living should I cross him no matter where I may go. And that he would not be satisfied with simply taking my life.”

I hesitated. That didn’t sound good either. “Did Kurohoshi threaten your family or something?” Fuck. Kami had been so helpful but what did I really know about his methods? He was one of the good guys, right? Given the circumstances and threat to the world did I have a choice to refuse his aid even if he wasn’t?

The world didn’t move but it shifted all the same, leaving me feeling as young as I appeared and equally naive.

Hassan shook his head. “No. He promised to strip the power and knowledge I have so carefully accumulated across many lifetimes from my soul. A fate far worse than any death. You have no fear of betrayal from me, oh wielder of prime. I would rather die fighting your enemies than risk such a loss.”

Danielle’s hand touched a forearm, gently pushing it down. “I don’t like this any more than you do. But right now we need the help.”

Zap had stood just inside the room next to Erica where they were watching quietly. Whereas he had put down his bag and taken a battle-ready stance, Erica stood impatiently with crossed arms. I asked them, “You both agree with this?”

Gesturing with open hands Zap spoke first. “They were sent to kill Danielle. If she says okay then how can I not?”

Erica just rolled her eyes. “You’re wasting time. Either kill him or quit grandstanding.”

Reluctantly I let the energy dissipate. Staring into the assassin’s mercenary cold eyes I really hoped it was the right thing to have done.

~o~O~o~

 

Captain Isong’s mission briefing was, as the term would imply, brief. Through a hefty donation (in other words, a serious bribe) the professor of antiquities in charge of the Djozer pyramid’s restoration - a Dr. Fahmy - agreed to allow three high school students a private tour of the inside. The story given was that Zap was the son of someone to whom Kami owed a favor and Zap had been obsessed with studying this pyramid in particular. His father, being an important figure, had insisted that Kami provide a security detail. Thus justifying the rest of the tactical team beyond Zap’s three other classmates.

The mission’s goal was summed up succinctly: get Zap, Erica, and Danielle into the pyramid and protect them while they did whatever it is they needed to do. You know, like activate a many-millennia old magical construct and possibly breaking one of the seven seals of the Book of Revelations all without causing an unstable pyramid to collapse on top of everyone.

Nothing major or anything. Ha!

We split up into three vehicles. As usual they’d gotten large SUVs, though this time they were white instead of black. Viva la difference? Danielle and I were in the middle car of the convoy, sitting behind Fred and Derek. Fred drove, of course, as Derek had his nose buried in a laptop to monitor our communications and make sure the little earbud devices he’d handed out worked.

I had a suspicion our car had a shield generator like the one in Syria because in the cargo area were several hard-plastic cases interlinked with awfully familiar heavy cabling.

As the car trundled out of the hotel parking lot and into the mayhem of Cairo’s morning rush hour Danielle took my hand.

I gave hers a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t really know.”

“It’ll be alright. I’ll be right there with you.”

She squeezed back but didn’t say anything more. I considered asking how her flight out had been but she didn’t seem like she wanted to talk. Given how uncertain I was about bringing her towards certain danger, I didn’t say anything either.

Maybe we were both afraid to trigger the other into backing out and running away. So for the drive we just held the other’s hand and stared out the windows at the Nile glittering in the early morning sun.

Compared to the larger pyramids at Giza the one in Saqqara was rather small. Unlike the smooth angled walls of the others the Djoser pyramid was built with huge rocks stepping upwards - hence being called the ‘Step Pyramid’. An outer wall embedded with various buildings surrounded the pyramid itself, though at some spots it wasn’t so much a wall as just a tall mound of dirt.

We stopped in a paved lot right by the entrance even closer than the usual tourist parking after ignoring the guys on the way who shouted that cars were not allowed and we should take their offered camel rides instead. Access beyond the parking area was guarded by members of Egypt’s security forces all carrying some serious looking hardware. With everyone except Derek having gotten out of the vehicles, Captain Isong approached a pair of soldiers hanging out by these ridiculously tiny covered wooden huts serving as guard posts. Before she could say much to them a well-dressed white-bearded gentleman rushed out from one of the buildings.

“Hello! You are Dr. Fahmy’s party, yes?” he said in English.

“We are.” Isong replied. “Is Dr. Fahmy here?”

“Alas, no. You must forgive him, but with the short notice of your visit he was unable to reschedule important meetings with the Antiquities Association. I’m sure you understand.”

“Please convey our sadness that he was unable to join us.”

“I will, I will. I am Dr. Ashour, one of Dr. Fahmy’s associates.” He smiled expectantly.

“I am Captain Isong, head of the childrens’ security detail.”

“Of course. And where is the boy we have heard so much about?” Dr. Ashour looked purposefully over at Zap.

Poor Zap shot me a look of ‘please shoot me’ before dutifully walking over to be introduced. The professor proceeded to wax effusive about how delighted he was (though he clearly wasn’t) that such a promising young scholar had evinced an interest in Egypt’s history and with an arm around Zap’s shoulders led him up to the main entrance that cut through the protective outer walls.

Since it was still early morning there weren’t too many tourists around but there were several construction trucks and various piles of equipment under tarps. Whatever renovations they had in mind had clearly already started or were about to, which may have explained the heightened security as there were quite a few soldiers standing around looking rather bored. Theft of supplies must have been a concern. Several of the workers stared as we walked past. Okay, in all honesty they stared at me and Danielle. Despite our sunglasses and wide hats there was no disguising that we were obviously girls and attractive ones at that.

At least we weren’t cat-called or whistled at. The hulking presence of Fred at our side likely discouraged any such inclinations.

Dr. Ashour led us through a narrow slit in the reddish stone wall into a narrow corridor lined with columns reaching at least thirty feet high. While the vertical stonework didn’t seem all that huge to me, it was impressive all the same. These pillars had stood guard at this entrance for over four-thousand years.

“Workers have already gone inside and some passages are fairly tight,” Dr. Ashour was saying, “and while sadly the accessible rooms were looted long ago there is still much to be seen here at Djoser’s pyramid!”

“His name was Netjeriykhet.” Zap’s said with annoyance.

“Ah yes, young sir, while that is technically true he has been referred to as Djoser ever since-”

“Since the New Kingdom,” Zap interrupted. “Yeah, I know. That doesn’t change the fact it’s not his proper name. I would think a professor of history would want to be more accurate, unless of course they were once acolytes of Budge.”

The professor’s eyes tried to bulge out of their sockets in indignation and he inhaled deeply to protest even more vigorously against such a slander when his entire expression went blank as if a switch in his head had flipped to turn him off.

When the eyes blinked to refocus the man laughed before speaking in a vocal register utterly unlike how the professor had just sounded.

“That’s funny, kid. Though they renamed him in honor of what we made them build. You know, all these fancy structures commemorating every time you’d kick the bucket again. And again. Aaaand again.” The grin on the professor’s face became scarily wide.

We all froze in our tracks. Isong had a pistol in her hand pointed at the professor’s head faster than I could blink. Holy shit she was fast.

But she didn’t pull the trigger.

“Say the word, Zap, and we drop him,” she said coolly.

The professor, who was clearly no longer himself, smirked with amusement.

Zap held out a hand to Isong. “Don’t shoot.” To the professor he said, “Hey there, Set. How they hanging?”

“Remains to be seen, don’t it?” The god pointed at Erica. “You brought the Queen’s expert. Interesting choice. Sure you can trust her?”

“More than I trust you.” Zap shrugged. “But if you’re here then the Queen is already at the seal. What do you want?”

“Yeah she’s darn near close enough to piss on it. And since she doesn’t care one whit about our contingency plans you’d best hurry the fuck up.”

“We’re on our way in.”

“Avoid the main entrance. I’m not the only one who can play puppets with these simpletons. Oh, and since you were stupid enough to bring the beacon you’re likely to get more entertainment soon. Enjoy!”

Having said that the eyes rolled up and Dr. Ashour collapsed to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” Isong demanded.

“That was the god Set,” Zap said grimly. “And we’ve got several problems.”

My stomach sank as I too processed what Set had said.

Isong pointed the business end of her gun at the floor. “Then elucidate the situation. And be quick.”

Erica’s eyes closed with concentration. “There are several fae spirits nearby. Their wizards are capable of possessing humans, a trick they don’t like others to know about. To have this many there’s got to be an anchor artifact somewhere or a human mage is acting as one; destroy the anchor or shoot the channeler.” She turned towards the pyramid outside. “Shit. They’ve likely already gotten to people inside the pyramid.”

Keeping his own weapon low, Fred asked, “What’s that bit about a ‘beacon’? Are we bugged?”

Zap looked to me. “Damn. Aradia shines in the astral, like crazy bright. She can’t help it. We should have thought of that when she powered up last night. If the Grigori have anyone keeping an astral watch for where she pops up then they probably already know she’s here in Cairo and will be able to trace her location. We’ve already seen that Sariel can use portals. They’re probably preparing a strike against us even now.”

Derek piped up into our ear-pieces. “Hey guys? The security dudes here just left their huts and are walking up the hill with guns in hand.”

Isong didn’t hesitate. “Derek, launch drones! I want eyes on the courtyard asap! Prepare to use the shield generator to intercept anything that comes from the air. Protect the pyramid! Miguel, Fred, guard the inner courtyard exit. Summoner prep your magic shit and get us assistance. Tanya, you’re with me.” With that she sprinted towards the narrow entrance we’d just come in, the turquoise shield forming up before her.

“What about us?” shouted Danielle in a rather shrill voice as everyone she had named bolted to their assigned tasks.

“Use the comms!” the captain snapped as she slid to one side of the stone entrance with weapon and shield aimed outward. In a more measured tone over the links she answered Danielle’s question. “Find an alternate way into the pyramid with the assumption that the main shaft is compromised. Aradia, you stick close and deal with anything that gets past everyone else.”

Hassan began murmuring to himself, hands and fingers moving in strange patterns. I could see the weaving nudge the world’s physical threads closer to ones much more elemental and pure, forging a singular harmony. It was strangely entrancing.

Erica’s nails dug harshly into my shoulder. “Don’t stare at him, idiot! Find the fae’s anchor! Your sight should be clearer than mine!”

Blinking clear I nodded, taking a step back and letting the space behind me fill with glowing feathers.

Perceptions shifted immediately.

To the side I could still see threads of magic coalescing around and inside Hassan preparing an opening through which an elemental force could manifest. His mutterings also became clearer: not magic so much as a negotiation, bargaining a portion of his own mana reserves in exchange for aid - the limits of said assistance set to only use up half of what was given.

I’ll say one thing for the guy, he had one heck of a reserve.

Standing behind Isong’s shield Tanya was busy channeling her own energies, causing the seams of reality to distort and energy to flow into the matter taking the shape imposed by her subconscious: swords. Two nasty looking sapphire daggers slipped through the rifts to hover over her shoulders.

Whereas looking past the walls I could see the patterns of the pair of soldiers approaching with rifles aimed at the entrance. Within them were the silvery-blue outlines of very different people: slender, tall, and wearing familiar robes emblazoned with the same symbol: a golden crown over black.

Queen Fionnabhair’s heraldry.

Behind them in a full suit of the most elegantly curved silver armor I’d ever seen walked another fae in the astral. His face was covered by a stag-horned helmet yet I recognized him by his arrogant bearing alone: Gwydian, the queen’s champion and steward, a black-hilted long sword hanging in a scabbard on his belt. On his chest hung a pendant: a beautifully detailed wolf with jaws wide grasping a crescent moon. From that moon lines of force stretched towards all of the fae possessing the Egyptian soldiers, some lines stretching down under the pyramid.

“Erica,” I said with a forced calm I certainly didn’t feel. “I don’t think the anchor is physical.”

“Unlikely,” she said rather dubiously, her attention still towards the inner courtyard.

“Well Gwydian is in the astral behind those guys coming up the hill. He’s got a pendant that looks to be linking to all the other fae.”

“Shit.”

Zap stepped closer. “I’ll deal with him.”

Erica shot Zap an angry look. “Don’t get distracted, hawk-lord. We need to get into the pyramid.”

He objected. “And how do you propose we do that without first stopping the fae? If we attack the main tunnel they could retreat to the center, shoot out the ceiling, and collapse the whole thing!”

Danielle put a placating hand between them. “I can get us down there.”

Erica raised a single eyebrow. “How?”

“The earth will move out of my way.” Danielle pointed to the dirt floor we all were standing on. Her white hair was pulled back in a ponytail but that one flowery lock at her forehead had slipped free to dangle besides her face. “We’re out of time. Aradia will have to deal with Gwydion, keeping him too distracted to notice us.”

My turn to not like the ideas. “I’m going with you,” I insisted.

She smiled then, though it was oddly sad. “You’re needed here. You’re also our best hope to stop Sariel.” Before I could say anything more she threw herself into my arms, hugging tightly. “I got this, okay?”

I choked up. “I’m supposed to stay with you.”

“Not this time,” she said and leaned closer to whisper in an ear. “I love you, Uncle.”

“I love you too.”

Pulling herself free she took Zap’s hand and reached for Erica’s except Erica flinched away from the touch. As for me I hadn’t wanted to let go.

“Step back,” she told me as snowflakes began to fall, disappearing into her matching hair.

Reluctantly I did so. The wooden planks lining the path under their feet sank immediately, pulling the three of them down. I looked to Zap wanting to tell him to take care of her, but what I saw caught the words in my throat.

A hawk-headed warrior stood over him, one eye made of pure sunlight and a spear of electrical fire held tightly to hand. The completely stoic bird-of-prey expression was an equal match to Zap’s own.

The walls of their passage closed over them, leaving me staring at the solid dirt in the gap where the planks had been.

Derek’s voice broke my indecisive reverie. “Heads-up, Captain. I’m now detecting spatial anomalies about one click west.”

“Those are likely portals,” said Hassan and he stepped closer to me. He’d taken off the sunglasses and his eyes now swirled as a pair of miniature tornadoes spinning madly in the sockets. “I suggest we cross the yard and take defensive positions on the western wall against whatever is coming. Ignore the pyramid entrances and perhaps those within will come out to us where we can deal with them without risking the pyramid itself.”

I glared at the assassin. “The people being possessed are innocent. No killing them, got it?” I’d said it across the comms and added, “Isong, you hear me? No killing!” Visions of the poor guy who died in Whateley’s magic cell flashed through my thoughts. Azazel had possessed him and burned out his mind before leaving.

I didn’t want that happening to anyone else.

From her defensive position Isong replied, “We do whatever is necessary to deliver the package. That’s the mission.” Her head turned to look back over her shoulder to notice her ‘packages’ had disappeared. “Where’d they go?”

“Down to where we cannot follow,” said Hassan. “Now we must guard their flank.”

“Into the ground? Shit.” Isong thought for a moment. “Then we defend here and keep everyone else busy.”

“Captain,” I said, “You can’t reach the artifact that’s holding the fae spirits here and allowing them to possess the soldiers. It’s not something physical. But I can. It’s on a spirit behind the guys coming up from the parking lot. You should go with Hassan.”

“You sure?” Isong asked, hardened eyes reflecting the sparks alighting the feathers covering my back.

“Yeah.”

Isong stared for a moment before nodding. “Fine. Derek, swing a drone with light arms fire to give us cover across the yard in case we need it.”

“Roger that. Shifting one now.”

The captain was still looking at me. “You ready?” She tilted her head at the wall, having already guessed why I kept sliding slowly along it towards her.

I let the light flow brighter still. “Give the word.”

She repositioned, pulling Tanya more solidly behind her blue-green shield as they backed away from the entrance. “Do it.”

With a yell I launched the energies I’d been channeling into my hands at the walls just to the sides of the entrance. Huge chunks of ancient stone hurled outward in a tremendous cloud of dust, buffeting the men who’d been preparing to open fire and knocking them off their feet. The thought that I was damaging precious Egyptian heritage didn’t even enter my thoughts.

I was focused entirely on one thing: kicking Gwydion’s ass and hurrying back to Danielle’s side.

Taking a running start I flew through the gap in the wall now wide enough for wings.

~o~O~o~

 

Descending below the ground Zap knew exactly where to go. Imprinted in his memories as Netjeriykhet were the details of all the rooms and passages along with all the riches and treasures which had been buried there for his spirit to enjoy in the afterlife. Except his spirit hadn’t lingered but instead had needed to continue on and on so the work could continue.

A work whose ancient purpose called to him.

“We’re far enough down,” he said. “Now we go forward.”

Wisps of light fluttered about the enclosed space Danielle was forging around them as they went through clay-hardened dirt that had not seen the sun in centuries. The small puffs of light sparkled and danced seemingly of their own volition even though they were simple emanations of Danielle’s magic.

Erica stared at them, raw yearning appearing on her face before being shoved harshly aside. “We need to get to the control room.”

Zap grunted. “To get there we first go to my burial chamber.”

“Why there?” Erica asked. “Isn’t the throne room the more likely spot?”

“Because the burial chamber is the best place for us to cross over.”

“Cross over?” Danielle asked while slowly pushing the firmament around them.

Erica nodded. “Yeah, alright. I get it. We’ll have to spirit project ourselves to the plane where Imhotep built the device. Halfway between the living and the dead, like a spiritual sub-station.”

“The last time my spirit went walking,” Danielle said pensively, “I ended up in Arcadia.”

“That won’t happen,” Zap said firmly. “The design here is meant to anchor spirits to the in-between.”

“What about the people possessed by the fae?” Danielle asked. “Do we fight them?”

“Bad idea,” said Erica. “The whole restoration project revolves around trying to shore up the ceiling right above the Pharaoh’s corpse. If his old body is even still there, that is.”

“It probably isn’t,” Zap said with disgust. “Mummies were prime targets of looters. Morons in Europe would buy them to make potions or just mix the crushed remains in with their damned tea.”

“Eww.” Danielle made a disgusted face. “That’s gross.”

“Necromancy usually is,” commented Erica with bitter amusement. “Not a path for the squeamish.” She then looked thoughtful. “If we can’t fight them I could knock them out with a spell. But that carries the risk of Gwydion realizing we’re already down here.”

“Won’t the fae sense us coming in any case?” asked Zap.

Danielle shook her head. “Hopefully no. I’m trying to work a glamour around us as we go to prevent that.”

“Then let’s bypass the whole scenario,” Zap said. “Get us under the sarcophagus if you can, just make sure to shore things up so it won’t fall, got it? But don’t break out into the room.”

Erica raised an eyebrow. “Think that’ll be close enough?”

“If we lie down right under it, yeah.” Zap demonstrated by holding one hand flat just below the palm of the other. “Slip across without them even noticing.”

“We’ll need a hole for air,” Danielle added. “Who knows how long we’ll be out.”

“Good thinking,” agreed Erica. The two of them smiled grimly at each other, acknowledging their shared experience.

Guided by Zap’s precision knowledge they carefully avoided the existing tunnels and chambers, making their way down and around. Reaching a certain point Zap put a finger to his lips indicating they should shush then pointed it to the ceiling before adding the rest to become a count of four.

The message was clear: four fae-possessed workers stood in the chamber directly above them.

Danielle swallowed and was thankful for the cooling flecks of snow quietly swirling within their pocket of air. Moving the earth like this wasn’t easy but she exhaled and concentrated once again, making the ground slip aside.

Finally Zap held up a hand for her to stop, much to her relief as she crouched over knees to catch her breath. The air in their bubble had already started going stale a few minutes past which wasn’t helping.

Zap ran a finger along the forward wall about two feet below the ceiling and pantomimed scooping dirt out from there. Danielle, not feeling quite ready yet but knowing time was critical, pushed up and resumed her work.

Soon a space just big enough for the three of them to crawl lay under what Zap knew to be the central focus of the entire structure above them. Punctuating that space were several hardened pillars of compressed earth that Danielle had reinforced to better secure the top from crushing them while their spirits were away.

One by one they pulled themselves up and wormed their way in. Once positioned with Zap in the middle Danielle carefully turned a hand as if grasping a small valve and several pipe-like openings appeared which led to the open chamber above and allowed fresh, albeit also rather stifled, air to flow.

Zap took the hand of each girl and this time Erica didn’t object. The history and majesty of this place reached for him and his spirit. The massively coordinated efforts of his people had built this lasting monument to his kingship and carved their adulations into its bedrock and walls, all shaped by the will of the master architect. The stone and dirt sang to him their prayers and their hopes as now, after all these millennia of wandering he, Netjeriykhet, had finally returned.

He didn’t even have to try to project his spirit. As soon as his eyes closed they were pulled to where he knew they would be: his throne room.

They stood on immaculate marble flooring with columns of marble and gold towering over them, each pillar topped with four golden ‘shelves’ wrapping the circumference. A great golden kiosk stood upon the dais, brilliantly painted with sky-blue faience depicting scenes of Netjeriykhet’s conquests and glory. Cobras, lions, and many other animals also decorated the entire structure. Each pictorial equally covered with massive blood-red rubies, heart-wrenchingly pure green emeralds, and more precious stones than could be counted.

At its center perched the throne chair flanked by two pedestals. Hanging in the air above the pedestal to the left was a large glimmering silver and sapphire wadjet - recognizable to Erica and Danielle as an ‘Eye of Horus’ - held between the wings of two bird guardians. The wadjet’s central eye flickered with the image of the moon and as the whole symbol rotated the moon’s phases shifted to match, crescent to full to crescent to dark.

On the opposite plinth hovered an equally sized milky-white evanescent pearl scored by lightning-blue tendrils swirling across its surface to cast emanations painting everything around with slow watery tides as if part of some sunken Egyptian pirate’s treasure.

Of course what Zap was really staring at fixedly was the interloper daring to sit upon the throne. Grinning sharp white teeth shining from under brownish-black fur was Set. A simple grey wrap-around skirt left the broadly muscled human chest bare as he leaned forward in the gilded chair. Held in one hand was a tall metal staff, two spikes forking at the bottom and a long slender hook at the top reminiscent of Set’s own strange elongated animal-head. It was his scepter, symbol of his power and dominion over the chaos at his command.

In the other hand rested a jade-green ankh, one whose center eyelet was crossed by a pillar with four horizontal ridges that mirrored the tall columns of the room: the djed - symbol of stability and permanence.

Danielle, however, was staring off to the side of the dais at the ten foot tall free-standing stained-glass artwork which pulsed its own multi-colored lights across the room. The kaleidoscopic ellipse was held by two golden-winged statues, both women naked in profile and their metallic feathers filling out behind. Through the many-hued glass she sensed a passage leading towards constrained energies the magnitudes of which were beyond her ability to rationally comprehend.

Beyond those depths a being of nightmare and terrible power already hammered against the Third Seal, causing the glass to tremble and shake in its gilded frame.

Set broke the silence lingering in the air after their sudden arrival.

“Well, that took you long enough,” he sneered. “What, you stop to fuck these two on the way in?” Straightening on the throne he added with a leer, “The fae at least is damn hot but the human is all kinds of stringy.”

Danielle flushed a bright red. Erica - whose spirit self looked like a woman in her late twenties - only laughed. “I’ll grant you that one. My body’s definitely been through the shit lately.”

Set barked with amusement. “Ha!”

Zap however was clearly not entertained, electrical sparks gathering in eyes and fists. “You. Are sitting. On what is mine.”

“Oh this?” Set gestured at the chair even as the weird dog-but-not-dog’s eyes narrowed. “Only the strong get to sit here, boy.”

Taking a step forward, sparks cascaded along a line and formed a staff of power within Zap’s hand.

“Hey!” Danielle interrupted, looking between Zap and the god eager for a fight. “We don’t have time for that!”

Both looked to her uncomprehendingly.

“The queen!” she said with exasperation. “She’s already trying to break the seal. Stop being stupid - you gotta come and see this!” Danielle pointed at the vibrating chaotic mix of colored glass. “We need to stop her!”

Set’s wide nostrils snorted. “Stop? That’s not why I’m here. It’s time for that damn thing to fuck off and shatter. It’s time for the gods to get their heads out of their asses and rule!” He stood and casually tossed the ankh to Erica. She caught it in surprise and was immediately wary. Set pointed at her. “Figure out the controls to Imhotep’s thing and get it set up. When the rush hits you’ll need a god to hold the tide until the power can be fed back onto itself and contained. That’s what those two things are for.” He turned a finger first to the floating wedjet and then the glowing pearl.

Danielle protested. “None of that will matter if Fionnabhair breaks the seal. She wants the world flooded; she wants the humans wiped out. Your device was designed to deal with a natural reflow but the queen will focus it all through the lens of all the death-gained fuel she’s gained from that mana bomb!”

Set shrugged and smirked. “Challenges are what make life worth living.”

“Jesus,” Erica said. “You really think you can handle all that?”

Waving at the multi-faceted glowing portal Set snorted. “The seal is already cracking. So if the fae wants to argue with her sister as to who gets to open it the rest of the way then she can. I couldn’t give a shit which of them does it.”

Danielle blinked. “You’d just let me go?”

“Sure,” Set said. “But just you. Me and the pup here have things to discuss. And the human needs to stop gawking and get to work.”

Eyes of palest ice looked to Zap and Erica, flickering first with doubt but shifting stubbornly to resolution. “Okay.”

Zap blinked. “You sure you can win?”

Snow gathered at Danielle’s feet. “No. But I have to try. You sure you can beat Set?”

The god of chaos, fire, and violence grinned wider while Zap’s glare hardened.

Danielle smiled sadly. “Give him hell, Zap. And good luck Erica.” She moved towards the madly colored portal.

Erica, holding the ankh tightly in hand, called out. “Kick her ass!” Then in the ancient language of the fae she added, “Good hunting.”

In a shimmer of snowy sparks Danielle passed through the portal.

Without missing a beat Set leapt off the dais, swinging a staff whose metal now bubbled and shifted like angry storm-clouds.

Zap barely had time to react and counter with his own weapon, the sharp collision of their staves resounding through the throne room like a hammer against a mighty gong. Leaning in towards Zap’s face Set bared long ivory fangs.

“Alright kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

~o~O~o~

 

It became immediately obvious why Gwydion held the title of Queen’s Champion. I’d hoped to bum-rush him by surprise and in the scrambled grappling rip the pendant off his chest.

Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Before I could smash into his perfectly polished armor he spun to the side, a mailed hand whipping itself onto my wrist while his other arm braced against my elbow to pull me past, knowing full well that at this speed I couldn’t turn quick enough to correct. Then the bastard pulled downward with brutal strength, trying to drive me face first into the dirt.

Two things saved my molars from a deep sand-blasting. First was all the experience getting thrown about by Tian and the trained instinct of ducking into a roll so instead of snorting pebbles I flipped and took most of the force on spread wings which did an amazing job of cushioning the impact. Second was his fist had closed onto one of Camael’s bracers.

The armor worn by angels of war are not just for looking badass. Crimson flames roared over Gwydion’s mailed fist, the metal instantly heating to the intense red-white of a forge. With a shout of fury and pain the Queen’s Champion dropped his grip and quickly ripped the searing glove free from his hand, tossing it to the side. The skin of the now-exposed fingers steamed and sizzled but the Champion grunted and flexed them anyway before clenching a fist.

So much for hoping that the hand had been disabled.

Rolling rapidly to one side I let the wings pull me back into a standing guard position, preparing for a counter-attack.

“Those bracers,” he said, the words echoing strangely from inside the helmet. “They are not yours.”

I shifted my feet to take a further step back. “They were a gift.”

“Only the owner could bestow such upon another and have them provide such a defense. So it is true then that Prince Camael has returned.”

Wait, what? Soren had given them to me, not Camael.

“Have you not wondered why angels crafted and wore such battle-armor?” he asked. “Why the power of your words alone was insufficient in war?” Gwydion held up his fist and blew across the burnt and crackling skin.

“Honestly I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Then I shall enlighten you.” With a smoothly practiced motion he pulled the sword at his waist from its sheath. The black hilt was a cross-piece without any decorations, a simple blade forged from three feet of coal-blackened steel that was terribly crude compared to the fae artistry of his armor. No runes. No fine metal work.

Only an aura of wrongness that spread outward as if reality wished desperately to pull away from its mere presence.

I gulped. I was staring at an item not of death but of oblivion, waves of a pure evil beyond all evil pulsing from the blade.

The Queen’s Champion pointed the tip of the horrid thing steadily towards me. “I am counted as old even among the long-lived fae,” Gwydion said as he sighted down the sword. “Few are aware of exactly how many ages I have witnessed, watching as the fortunes of my people have waxed and waned. I was there in the beginning, when we made our homes in the first realms to stabilize when all was new and the angels of Elohim lived in harmony with the other races of beings.”

One of his legs slid backwards into a fighting stance akin to that of a fencer. As heavy as that sword must have been he obviously had the strength to wield it as if it were a lightweight epee or foil.

“I was there,” he continued, “when the Archangel Samael had his disagreement with Elohim and felt compelled to demonstrate his convictions. Many of us Sidhe fought alongside him as we stood against the early waves of the Primal Chaos. Many of us remembered it was not Elohim but Samael and his fiercely loyal warriors who always had arrived in time to save our villages and people from annihilation by the spawn of that Darkness which wishes to swallow all.”

He began to advance and I couldn’t help but start backing away.

“To kill an angel requires destroying first its connection to Elohim and second its holy word. But how do you truly kill an idea?” He paused, adjusting his grip on the weapon. “You do so with this.”

Even knowing it was coming the sheer speed and fury of the attack still was shocking. Without even a shout he crossed the distance, sword snapping towards my neck. While he’d been talking I’d pulled down as much light as I could without giving away that I’d done so, but now it burst outward as if trying to shield me in an aura of heavenly brilliance.

His sword sliced through the light like the moon eclipsing the sun to cast all into shadow.

I dodged and spun wildly away from his continual powerful swings. The warrior wasted no motion, moving like a precision machine designed to do one thing: puncture and cleave wherever it was aimed. If I hadn’t powered up I would have been shredded instantly instead of being barely able to spin away from each deadly thrust.

Knowing I couldn’t keep that up I shouted and launched a blast of light at him, hoping it would at least knock him back. He sliced through its light and to my horror the sword swallowed it up like a damn hoover vacuum cleaner.

Or like a black hole swallowing another star.

The bastard even paused to salute the attempt, allowing me to pull further away. “It was with blades such as this we proved to Elohim His weakness. Only to those deemed worthy did Samael provide such weapons, each pulled forth from the Chaos by the Archon who fought at his side.”

He charged forward even faster somehow, that blade relentlessly seeking any piece of me it could get. It was all I could do to maintain focus and predict where it would strike, willing myself to not be there when it did. But his speed kept increasing and the margin kept narrowing.

Finally with a shout of his own he swung at my head after pummeling me into a half-kneeling position. I did the only thing I could think of and prayed the hint given from his own words proved true. I blocked the sword with Soren’s gifts crossed-braced to catch the blade.

The bracers held, catching fire with flames eager to push away the darkness that dared touch its black and gold.

Gwydion leaned in on the sword, pushing his strength to shove me further towards the ground, the wolf of his pendant preparing to choke on its moon as it sat against his chest. “I was the only Sidhe deemed worthy. I was the only fae gifted a blade by the Archon Alal and recruited to her own company.”

Using the wings to gather my strength I slowly pushed the blade upward, digging in with a foot to gain leverage while staring at the pendant now only inches away. It was so close and I could see the chain was mere decoration as the entire thing had been welded to his armor. The spellworking inside it was a marvel of intricate patterns, runes interlocking with each other in a very precise configuration. “Alal? You owe her allegiance? That’s funny.”

He snarled with noble-born anger. “You mock me?”

“Nope. It’s just that,” I said as I felt my foot take solid purchase, “Alal helped me get here.”

He blanched in sudden surprise and I took the risk. Using one bracer I shoved his sword laterally with all my strength, fingers of the now freed hand grabbing at the wolf and moon. Into the damn thing I then poured all the light I had mustered directly into the delicate crafting. In a blinding flash the moon exploded, sending shards of armor not only outward but inward. Gwydion screamed with pain from the shrapnel and I screamed with him.

The blade hadn’t turned enough and its tip tore through the top of one of my burning wings.

Gwydion stumbled away, gloved hand clutching his chest where red blood poured through the wide hole now ripped through his armor. “I do not understand,” he gasped. “Why would she help you?”

A gurgle was all I could manage for reply. Where his chaos-forged sword had cut deep across the wing I was rapidly leaking. Not blood, but light that shone forth from the wound like a searchlight desperately sweeping across the sky for a target it just couldn’t find. Try as I might to heal it the gash refused to close. A pulse from the burning bracers provided a crazy idea and feeling all my strength flooding out I went with it and screamed a second time as I reached over a shoulder.

I used the fire of the bracer to cauterize the wing. Holy fuck did that hurt.

Gasping for breath while still on one knee I looked over to the Queen’s Champion. He too had fallen to a knee a few feet away, pressing against his own wound. The chaos blade dangled loosely in his grip, its edge slowly sinking into the dirt as if swallowing the very ground itself pebble by pebble.

“I don’t understand either,” I said in a pained voice. “I didn’t even know what she was until you said it.”

A wind blew between us and his image rippled. Except there wasn’t really a wind.

“If she aids you,” he said as he began to fade away, “Then you are one to fulfill the will of The Destroyer.”

“What? Wait!”

I got no reply as the asshole had gone. At least he’d taken the cursed sword with him.

Struggling to my feet I winced as the wing twitched from the movement. I stared at the fires surrounding the bracers for a moment trying to process all that he’d said. If he was right about them then Camael himself had to have given them to me.

Which meant Soren was Camael. And if that was the case, where the heck was he? I mean if he was supposed to be War, the second damned horseman, shouldn’t he be here helping?

Also, what the hell did it mean that Alal was an Archon of Chaos? I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant other than having heard something about one being the source of Azazel’s fully craptastic evil power and therefore starting the entire mess with the Grigori long ago in the first place.

Shit. However you sliced it, none of that sounded good. And being sliced definitely sucked, I might add.

An explosion in the sky over the pyramid reminded of more pressing matters. A bluish forcefield under the blast quickly turned red in a hemisphere projected by a score of drones floating above the stones. I watched as a second blast detonated and sent another section into the red. Someone was shelling the pyramid and Derek was trying to save it using a swarm of small drones unleashed from the open end of one of the SUVs.

I ran towards the new fight, stepping over the unconscious guards who had dropped with the pendant’s destruction. As I did I quoted words uttered by uncounted soldiers who had found themselves in similar shitty situations:

“Fuck this!”

 

Chapter 27 - Guides

Erica gripped the jade ankh in a tight fist and stared into space. She had leaned up against one of the hieroglyphic-covered walls of the throne room off in a corner away from the two combatants who were busily smashing each other through the columns, the dais, and occasionally the throne itself. This spirit place was apparently designed for such a thing as all the shattered pieces of architecture and furniture kept restoring themselves as soon as the raucous battle had moved on to a different portion of the room.

She, however, was doing her darned best to ignore the two lunatics and concentrate on the energetic patterns underlying the entire area which was coded in a self-invented mystical-yet-logical language created by a genius buried millennia ago. The scope of what had been constructed was too vast to comprehend quickly so she had resorted to cheating given their obvious time pressures.

Her other hand held her silver pocketwatch, thumb hovering over the button. She’d lost count of how many time-limited puzzles and death-traps the royal fae had forced their human pet to solve for their entertainment. By necessity she had come up with a solution that at least had given her a chance. Failure had always been met with severe pain.

And spirits felt pain on whole other levels than physical bodies did.

“Neat trick,” said a voice off to her side.

Startled, she spared a glance away from the ribbons of symbols flowing past and was surprised with what she saw. “Aren’t you still busy ‘conversing’ with Zap?”

Another quick dart of her eyes confirmed that yes, Zap and Set were indeed still midair flailing at each other with their two staves in slow motion, one moving like a stormfront across a dusky sky and the other an answering thunderbolt eager to connect the clouds with the earth.

Yet sitting on a barstool next to her was also Set, now wearing cargo shorts, flip flops, and a black Hawaiian shirt covered in blood-red flowers. He even wore a wide-brimmed straw hat.

This Set held up a can of beer and expertly cracked it open with a single hand. “Advantage of being a god, chickadee. Besides, the kid’s doing well enough.” He chugged the entire can in one go, half the beer spilling out the sides of the long muzzle before he burped loudly and tossed the empty aside. “Figure all this crap out yet?”

“Imhotep’s control design? Working on it. Might help if you shut up.”

Set chuckled. “Didn’t mean just the machine. You’re supposed to be all kinds of fucking smart, right? So impress me.”

“Oh. That.” She rotated the ankh slightly, watching the effect doing so had on the stream of bluish-green symbols flowing throughout the room. “You want to be entertained? Then let's trade.”

The god cocked an eye at her. “What’cha offering?”

Across the hall the other Set and Zap launched energetic attacks at the other, shields forged from suddenly manifested sigils deflecting and grounding out the blasts.

“You tell me about Imhotep, what he was like, his whole dossier. And in return I’ll tell you what the fuck I’ve figured out.”

“Why you want to know about him? Just hack his shit.” A second can appeared in the god’s hand, this time he sipped instead of trying to drown himself with it.

“Shows what you know about hacking. We got a deal or what?”

The god scratched atop his long nose. “That’s fair, sure. So the guy was gifted in the intelligence department. Like in a contest of wits his balls swung on equal par with Thoth’s.”

“I knew that already. Had to have been to make all this.” She nodded at the magic surrounding them. “But alright, my turn. It was no coincidence that the queen decided to save my ass from Azazel that day. She’d probably been looking for an excuse to grab me for awhile, especially once Aradia showed up. I’m guessing that fucked with your schedules.”

Set grinned. “Yeah, caused a right panic when sparky appeared on the scene.” He barked a short laugh. “Gotta love it when a royal bitch can’t figure out whether something helps or fucks with their carefully laid plans. Sariel getting his hands on one of those bombs downright triggered a seizure in the old girl too. She demanded we move and pronto.”

“Imhotep was the pharaoh’s vizier, correct? Right hand guy. He live the high life and indulge?”

“Hmm,” Set considered. “No. He could have too. Was offered all the best looking sluts as slaves but would whine instead about how the work was too important to waste time getting his rocks off. Got really grumpy at any distraction or chance for a thrill and used to yell about having only so much time to secure his legacy. What else you got?”

Moving the ankh again, Erica frowned. Did its apparent weight just change? “The queen needed access to the center of the seal forged by Siabh. Imhotep must have built that mirror over there to stay attuned to where it is. I’m guessing the center shifts randomly all over the astral in a pattern only Imhotep managed to figure out and he coded it into that kaleidoscopic mess of an eyesore. So she needed you to guide her here as this place is for all intents and purposes cut off in the spirit except through the Kemetic realms. You were her only way in. It was a pain in the ass to tune into the space just outside here using the scrying sphere from the physical as it was. You cut her a deal to provide passage.”

Set yawned, showing off impressively sharp rows of teeth. “Partial credit only on that one sweet-cheeks. I already told the kid about the deal.”

“Yeah but not the details. You didn’t tell him that I was what you got in return. More specifically, the fucked up time-warped training the fae put me through just to survive.”

“Shit, people don’t really learn unless their lives are riding on it. And you fucking nailed survival class. Those dumbasses at that school could never have taught you all that.”

“Stay on point. Did Imhotep marry? Have kids?”

“Yeah. His wife bore a litter of brats that he mostly ignored yet somehow they still loved his ass. Why you asking all this shit?”

Her answer was delayed by another partial-speed explosion from the combatants which caused the nearby columns to shatter into billions of shards of sharp-edged white marble. As Erica rushed to conjure a shield against being cut to ribbons Set gestured casually and the shards crushed into a fine powder which he proceeded to snort in a vortex right up his extended nose.

Catching the weird look she gave him he shrugged. “Saw some humans doing that. It looked fun.”

“They were doing cocaine, jerkwad. It’s a drug.”

“Oh.” He sniffed. “Got any?”

“Hell no. Thanks to your damned deal I’ve already got one addiction too many.”

“I can help with that, you know.” The god’s dark eyes twinkled. “One night with me and the only thing you’d be addicted to is my cock.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, just offering. You gonna answer the question?”

She pointed the ankh at the stream of symbols, watching as they shifted course to swirl around the ankh itself before pouring through its central eye. “Imhotep put a password on the control functions.”

“So figure a way around it.” The god popped a third beer can and took a casual slurp.

Watching carefully as all the sigils flowed through the ankh Erica quickly flicked her wrist, diverting two of the symbols out of the flow to remain fixed in the empty spaces to the sides of the djed. With a feral grin she said, “No need.”

The god’s eyes widened as the jade ankh burst into light and the hand holding it joined the brilliance. Erica’s astral body transformed into its own set of multi-colored symbols rushing directly into the flow transversing the ancient relic.

Set caught the ankh before it hit the floor and stared at the two glyphs still glowing in their respective slots. Their meanings were clear. One represented Humanity and the other, well, the other represented a single concept:

Freedom.

“Huh,” muttered the god as he watched both the Eye of Horus and the evanescent pearl besides the throne similarly disappear as the power they represented was pulled elsewhere. “Imhotep you crafty bastard.”

All the hieroglyphs painted on the walls lit up like they’d been wired with LEDs and began to move.

~o~O~o~

 

Overlooking the desert from the top of the western wall, Hassan al-Shadid was troubled and not by the two groups of armored figures running full tilt across the sand brandishing deadly technological toys. Nor by the mortar rounds being fired through one of the many portals now dotting the sand-filled landscape just beyond the boundaries of spirit marking the schism between the pyramid’s astral space and the desert beyond. These were all things his summoned Djinn, a Lord of Elemental Air, could handle.

No, it was the scent and taste of much darker magic wafting past in the gusts of sand the whirlwind djinn churned up as its manifested form of a thirty-foot tall tornado sped through the attackers, tossing them into the air where the Captain, using a drone-delivered high-powered rifle, picked them off one by one.

“Captain,” Hassan said into his throat mic, “the mission brief indicated that should the pyramid fall there would be consequences beyond the loss of those inside but lacked clarification.”

“Stay focused, Summoner,” Isong said as she took another thundering shot from her prone position which plunged through the chest of one of the attackers despite the armor’s promise of protection. “Now is not the time for questions.”

“I disagree,” said Hassan evenly. “If we are facing my former employers - and given the nature of those portals that seems given - then we are likely outclassed. If they are determined to bring down the pyramid they shall inevitably succeed.”

Miguel, standing close to Fred as they guarded the other side of the wall, laughed. “Our ace is just getting warmed up. You’ll see!” Grinning he shot a few more rounds over the heads of the fae-possessed humans who were hiding behind the two wide cylinders of stone poking up through the dirt in the middle of the courtyard. The fae had taken shots at them as the group had ran past but as Isong had drawn their fire all the rounds had impacted uselessly against the captain’s shield. Miguel was currently encouraging the fae to keep their heads down.

Hassan was not convinced as his senses were screaming at him from multiple directions. He’d recognized the fae warrior the young prime-wielding girl was fighting from encounters in his previous lives. He knew painfully well the skill and power wielded by such a being; tactically he was hoping the girl would surprise him and at least wound the warrior before his assured victory.

That could give Hassan’s own djinn a fighting chance.

The second squad of suited soldiers activated jump jets and burst skyward, barely evading the tornado and leaving behind their other hapless comrades desperately trying to shoot the elemental to no effect. Those airborne flew at the wall while shoulder-mounted weaponry began peppering it with blasts of crimson energy.

Tanya hit the dirt besides Hassan shouting, “Get down you idiot!”

Hassan smirked and with a word and a flick of a hand the fiery bolts veered aside to blast empty ground yards away instead of blowing him to smithereens. As the flying soldiers broke off to avoid the immediate counter-fire from the wall’s defenders, Hassan gestured again - this time making a fist before pulling it sharply downward. The rear-most soldier plummeted straight into the hard-packed dirt at the top of the wall, jets firing madly as the guy tried to retake the air yet was unable to move.

“If you would like to make yourself useful, now is the time.” He nodded arrogantly towards the hapless soldier.

Giving Hassan a disgusted look Tanya’s eyes flared blue and several swords plummeted out of the air at high speed to plunge through the guy’s armor. With a gurgle the man thrashed about then lay still.

They both watched as the flying squad launched another salvo at the pyramid which Derek’s multiple drones managed to deflect, though at a cost. Several of the shielding drones caught fire from the resulting overload and fell tumbling down the large steps of the pyramid. Only two remained and they too were already smoking.

The suited assault team broke off then regrouped to form up for another pass at the defenders on the wall.

Isong dropped the rifle and ran over to Miguel and Fred’s position. “Doc, hook him up! I’ll shield. Miguel, do your thing.”

“Fuck yeah!” Miguel shouted enthusiastically. Both he and Fred also dropped their guns and Miguel pulled off one of his gloves before extending an arm out to his side towards Fred.

Fred rapidly pulled long plastic tubing from his belt and after making a fist shoved the needle at the tubing’s end into his own arm at the crook of the elbow. Grabbing the shorter man’s arm he expertly plunged a second needle-tipped tube into Miguel’s arm.

The flying squad opened fire, this time directly at the three exposed fighters. Bullets and energy smashed into the turquoise barrier generated by the captain who screamed a mighty battle-cry in defiance.

To Hassan’s sight Miguel then did something utterly insane. While Hassan had summoned elementals by virtue of his talents as a variable avatar he always had brought them to the physical world by dint of magical contract and exchanged mana as offering. It was through such a contract the elementals could appear, bypassing the restrictions against spirits manifesting of their own volition which lay over the Earth.

Miguel however plunged his bare hand through a rift into the planes of elemental fire, reaching out to touch the swarming mass of pure flame directly.

His cries of agony and the pain generated by the searing of his naked flesh forged a momentary contract. And the fires gleefully accepted and burst forth into this world to burn with the glory of their raw essences. The airborne armored suits were instantly set afire but not externally.

The men instead caught aflame inside their suits, their own flesh providing the fuel as the exultant fiery spirits laughed and danced along their skin.

Hassan watched as the suits tumbled from the sky, the helmets insufficient to muffle the terrible sounds of their screams. Meanwhile Miguel had fallen to his knees clutching a skeletal wrist. All the muscles and skin were burned completely off.

“Jesus, Miggy,” Fred said rather aghast. “That’s gonna take awhile for even my blood to heal.”

Miguel grinned, though his face had gone rather pale. “Just tell me you ate your damn Wheaties this morning, Doc.”

“Hell no, mate. I had the waffles!” Fred adjusted a dial on the pump at his waist, speeding up the transfer of blood from his arm into Miguel’s.

Miguel’s shoulders relaxed slightly in response. “Ah shit yeah, that’s the good stuff.”

The blackened edges of the bone-exposed wrist turned red and then pink, creeping up along the bones to ever so slowly restore the hand.

Hassan was impressed. But he wasn’t given time to express it for a horrible roar screeched across the battlefield, pummeling eardrums with sheer decibels of sound.

They all froze as ancient instincts of primal terror awoke in response to that cry.

“Good god, what was that?” Tanya exclaimed, her voice sounding muffled from the shock to Hassan’s ears.

The summoner turned to face the west, his stomach sinking as he beheld the largest portal yet and what lay beyond it.

“Captain, my fears were not idle,” he said slowly. “We are in serious trouble.”

“What the fuck is it?” demanded Isong as she grabbed binoculars from Fred.

The scent of sulfur filled Hassan’s nostrils as he replied in a voice filled with awe.

“They have opened a Hellmouth and summoned a Demon Lord.”

~o~O~o~

 

Where Zap ended and Heru began no longer mattered. All had been abandoned to the thrill of combat as the two gods struck and smashed at each other throughout the ever-repairing throne room.

Back and forth they clashed, dark spear versus light, ruler of chaos versus hawk-lord.

It was glorious.

Set had an edge with raw strength, his spear pummeling through columns, while Zap tapped the speed and clear sightedness of the hawk to duck and avoid, whipping his own electrical staff back into the elongated snout of his enemy.

They each glowed with mighty power, twisting through the air as they made use of staves, feet, teeth, and claws to send each other crashing across the floor.

Bruises were irrelevant. Gashes were irrelevant.

And as they kept fighting even victory became irrelevant.

Which is why when the walls suddenly came alight and the painted figures upon them began to move it took Set a long time to get Zap to stop swinging.

It required a rather nimble maneuver with both feet to launch Zap across the room and through the gilded throne to force a pause. Though it did require receiving a fairly nasty blow to the top of Set’s head in exchange. “Ow. Fuck. Nice one!”

Already on his feet, Zap prepared to charge across the shattered arena, but Set was holding out a hand. “Quit it, already! We’ve got a problem!”

Zap frowned, wary of a ruse by a rather cunning foe.

“Look at the walls, dumbass!” Set, rubbing his noggin with one hand pointed with the other.

“Where’s Erica?” Zap asked, still circling in preparation for another attack.

“That’s just it, you little shit. She’s in. And Imhotep fucked us.”

Confusion set in. “What?”

“Open your damn eye!” Set swung a claw around now to gesture towards the pedestals now sitting empty besides the shattered throne which was slowly pulling itself back together. “Your other eye and my…potency! Imhotep’s device just swallowed them!”

“Was it supposed to?”

“Fuck no. We gave them up to this crazy thing to keep it intact over the years. Without them we are up shit creek without a paddle. Not enough juice to hold the flow in check until the backwash does it for us. Wake up and smell the bullshit, kid.” Set kept looking around. “There’s gotta be something we can do.”

Zap lowered his blue-white staff and moved closer to an animated wall. “This is like a huge t.v. screen.”

“So?”

“So, let’s video conference. HEY ERICA!”

The wall’s surface shimmered and reformed to show a gigantic seated image of Erica. Held in her hands were the wadjet and Set’s pearl. “Heya boys,” she said with a really wide grin.

“Give that back!” demanded Set. “That ain’t yours!”

“Not gonna be that easy.” Erica’s eyes narrowed. “Lets grant a few things and get them on the table, shall we?”

Set crossed his arms and fumed but said nothing. Zap shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“In a few minutes Gaia’s power is going to flood out whether it’s Danielle or the queen who opens it up. We all know this. Now I can try to wield your godly patterns myself, but let’s be honest, I may not be up to the task. Especially while riding control of the software. This baby is gonna need adjustments on the fly.”

“No one can handle my pattern but me!” shouted Set. “Wait,” he muttered, reconsidering. “That didn’t sound right.”

Zap snerked loudly and ignored the scowl thrown in his direction. To Erica he said, “Get to the point. What do you propose?”

“First things first. I’m in charge of the machine. What I say goes, got it? And we’re going to keep the power flow to the world restrained and only increase it slowly. I know we can’t hold it all back forever, but let the world have the chance to adjust.”

“Wasn’t that the whole idea?” Zap asked her.

“Snout-face there hasn’t signed on yet,” she pointed out.

Set stuck out his rather long tongue. “Snout-face will do as he damn well pleases. What’s the rest?”

“You both swear to keep humanity free. The gods, fae, and all the other mythical assholes haven’t ruled in ages. Keep it that way.”

“Yeah, that was a fucking obvious demand,” grumbled Set.

“We can’t guarantee that,” Zap said seriously. “There’s only two of us. When the levels reach the point where gods again walk the earth we’d be hard-pressed to stop them.”

Erica grinned again. “Not with me able to pull the mana rugs out from under their feet. Imhotep’s design has some nasty tricks to it. Besides, aren’t you guys supposed to be the masters of godly politics?”

Set and Zap exchanged a look and both burst out laughing hysterically. Zap even doubled over and had to wipe away a tear.

Looking back up at Erica, Set chuckled and asked, “Girl, have you even READ our stories?”

Before she could reply the room as a whole suddenly rattled as if something had just pounded on the walls.

Or maybe the floor itself.

“Crap,” Erica said. “Choose fast boys, the sooner we resolve this is the sooner I can get it prepped. And I think things outside are also heating up.”

“I’m fine with all that,” Zap announced as he turned to Set. “You in?”

The god made a show of thinking about it, pacing back and forth while scratching at his chin.

“Hurry up,” Zap growled.

“Don’t rush a genius, kid,” Set said before spreading hands wide. “Alright…on one condition.”

“What?” Erica said. “And be precise. No damn loopholes.”

Set smiled. “One hundred years. I’ll kick any throne out from under any other god’s ass for one hundred years.”

Zap cleared his throat. “Including your own. Ass, that is. Not that there’s any difference between your butt and your head.”

“Shut up you little shit,” Set snapped even though he was grinning. “Fine. You got a fucking deal. And in case you’re all wondering, the bird-brain here has finally got his shit together enough to not blow himself up doing this.”

Zap raised a brow. “That was a concern?”

“Yeah. Your beak is now officially long enough to blow yourself properly. Now take my damn hand and shake like a good pup.”

They shook.

“Deal accepted,” Erica announced. “Here you go.”

Reappearing on their pedestals, the wadjet and pearl immediately flew across the room to plow into the two gods. The wadjet flowed into Zap’s left eye, burning itself into the socket in a blaze of silver-white. The hazy pearl plunged itself into Set’s stomach like a bowling ball into a nine-pin.

Both gods flared with regained power, becoming taller, stronger, and somehow…more themselves.

With a hawk-like tilt of his head towards Set’s mid-section Zap asked, “Hey, you sure that’s where it goes?”

“Like I said, shut the fuck up. And get ready. This will sting like a bitch when it hits.”

The two gods summoned their respective strengths and braced themselves. All joking aside they knew what was about to burst free would strain the bonds holding together the very essence of their beings.

~o~O~o~

 

Before her stood a wide circle of standing stones.

She had fallen through dimensions of shattered colors where time warped with space to stretch and shrink in patterns streaming past faster than could be grasped. Even when it all blurred into a thick white fog it took her a few moments to gather her senses. Tall pillars of sandstone emerged from that mist, their carved surfaces filled with ancient fae runes. The circle however wasn’t what grabbed Danielle’s attention. It was what sat within and without.

At the center lay the capped well Siabh had shown her before, guarded now by the familiar ring of faerie magic upheld by each individual pillar and slab.

Leaning malevolently over a projected sphere of earthen protective magic grew a blackened tree with twisted branches reaching skyward as if to claw out the dim stars from the tapestry of night hanging so far above. Massive dark roots plunged below, ripping through the ground towards each of the pillars. Limbs stretched out to wrap around the tall stones, bark twisting into knots slowly crushing the rock with each violet pulse racing through veins coursing through the sickly wood. The tree smelled of rot, a pungency invading her nostrils and coating them with the ichor of death and decay.

Several of the formerly mighty stone pillars had already succumbed, the songs inscribing their surfaces with dimly glowing melodies silenced forever. The emerald glow of the circle’s power flickered weaker in those areas yet held on.

With a cry of instinctive dismay she reached into the surrounding fog and let the wind of her fury harden the moisture into spears of ice. They launched at the corrupted tree that sat at the center spreading poison into the heart of this once-sacred place.

The ice shattered against the tough gnarled bark without making so much as a mark upon the slick oily surface.

Not that there was no reaction. A single knot higher up snapped open to reveal a violet eye oozing green miasma as sickly tears. Under her feet roots snapped with the horrible crunching sound of stretching wood, vines lashing upwards around arms and legs before she could manage an icy defense. Rotting vines snaked around her throat tightening as they hardened into yet thicker branches that lifted her higher so she could stare directly into that one eye.

As she struggled the power coursing through the tree sapped at her will, waves of despair and hopelessness infecting her through the thorns scratching past her skin.

She shouldn’t have come. Not alone. The strength of the evil manifested within this abomination of a tree was on a level far beyond hers could ever be.

A crack in the wretched bark exhaled and spoke in a woman’s voice. “Ahh. The little ghost has come.”

“Fionnabhair?” Danielle remembered the dream images of Arcadia and what had happened there. The queen’s skin had turned to bark, but not like this. “Is that you?”

A second knot not entirely level with the first cracked open a second eye. “Oh yes. Have you come to marvel at our victory? To let the last fragments of Siabh bear witness?”

“Victory? This is horrible!”

The thing that Fionnabhair had become snarled. “And yet by this nightmare shall our people be freed! You had your chance little ghost. You burned away the last pieces of my sister and left no other path.”

“You will corrupt the gate! If you break the seal like this then you will only spread this contagion throughout the world! You’ll destroy fae and human alike!”

“Silence!”

The branches surrounding Danielle flexed, crushing arms into her chest before whipping about to slam her against one of the stones hard enough that the stony surface cracked in unison with her ribs. Leaves covered with blackened fungus snapped themselves across her mouth.

“You fool!” raged the being who once had been the queen. “Like Siabh you are blind! All that matters is the end to the abomination of slavery that my sister and the cursed angels inflicted upon us!”

Danielle tried to argue, tried to point out that the fae and other mythical beings very presence had drained Gaia’s mana almost beyond repair. Their own wars and infighting had wasted it all away. But the sickly tendrils clamped tight against her jaw allowing only muffled grunts as she struggled against the strength holding her in place.

She felt the stone at her back crumble further, the runes breaking and their weakening light going out one by one.

“Watch oh ghost! Watch as it is I who finally achieves the return of our glory! And let humanity weep that it has made us suffer so!” That horrible purple-black energy pulsed again within the veins wending through the tree to hammer into the remaining stones. Runes flared and extinguished, rock pulverized into ash and dust.

The sphere defending the well at the center shrank inward, becoming barely visible around the boards and stone.

As Danielle’s despair succumbed to panic Siabh’s past words whispered in her thoughts.

Our strength has always been hers, found within when we choose to seek it. But her power needs a guide.

A single rune in the battered stone at Danielle’s side flared, a fractal twisting tear across the rock’s surface from which streamed a solitary speck of starlight. A single soft note still managed to reach her ear.

And Danielle understood.

She thought of her mom and how even as the drunkard’s car crushed its way through her mother’s side her mom had thrown a hand out over her, still trying to protect her child even as her own life was ripped away.

She thought of her uncle who had taken her hand at the funeral and held it tight during the entire ceremony. Not once had he tried to let go no matter how hard she had squeezed his fingers as the tears had coursed down her cheeks.

She thought of Jordan, the girl her uncle had become by throwing himself into a room of madness to pull her free, and of how Jordan had held her close and promised to love and be there for her no matter what came. And then proved it by willingly letting go of another piece of her own diminishing humanity in order to catch her when evil had thrown her from the sky.

She thought of the angel, aflame with heavenly glory, willing to rip a realm asunder to see her beloved’s spirit safely returned home.

She thought of a young boy, head filled with inherited prejudice, fighting against all the conditioning to do what he believed was right and risk himself to save someone he had been taught his whole life to hate.

She knew of no better guides to follow.

With all the resolve she could muster she pushed her hand against the stone’s crack and let its light and music take her.

The rune-covered wood atop the well fractured inward as the ancient magic flared once more and her soul plunged within.

~o~O~o~

 

As I ran up the stairs to the wall there was this horrible ear-deafening roar. Reaching the top I took in the scene: Fred pumped his healing-factor blood into Miguel’s grotesquely burnt hand, Captain Isong with her black tactical gear smudged with fresh dirt peered out with binoculars while Hassan and Tanya gaped in the same direction.

“What on earth was that?” I asked as I stumbled closer. The wing was throbbing, running hadn’t done it any favors. Forcing more light into it also made the pain worse and I was scared I could damage it more by doing so.

“Not earth,” Hassan answered. “Hell.” He didn’t even have to point it out. Ducking under the limits of one of those distant glowing portals which itself had to have been at least forty feet tall stood something even taller. And horned. And red. And pure steroid abusing muscle.

Plus teeth. Rows upon rows of sharp nasty teeth.

“Holy shit,” I swallowed at the sheer scale of the power of that thing.

“Think you can take it, angel?” Tanya asked, her wide eyes filling with a panic she tried to keep from her voice.

“Uh…” I hesitated. Could I?

Hassan looked me up and down, eyes narrowing when he got to the state of my wing. “No. She cannot. Captain, unless you have another trump card to play I suggest we flee. Rapidly.”

Isong glared at him but after a moment’s consideration spoke rapidly into her throat mic.

Aw crap. I’d somehow lost my ear-piece in the struggle with Gwydion so all I could hear was her side of the conversation.

“Derek get me the Colonel. Now.” Pause. “Colonel I’m declaring a Scenario Gamma. Repeat, Gamma. Derek, send him a visual.”

One of the drones floating over the power-armor wreckage darted closer to the towering demon.

The bastard didn’t even swipe at it with a hand. He (and it was quite clearly a ‘he’ being as it was utterly naked and uh, large) simply spat fire at the drone with a fierce accuracy.

The drone fell smoking from the sky.

“Yes, sir,” Isong was saying. “Two minutes. Understood.” She set those determined eyes of hers on us. “We need to hold that thing off for two minutes.”

Miguel spoke for us all. “Uh Captain? How the flying fuck we gonna do that?”

Isong turned to Hassan. “Get your djinn to stall it.”

“Rih doesn’t have the power to stand against such a thing. But he can be commanded to try.”

The whirling elemental’s dust picked up speed and fury, spinning itself larger and larger until the top of the tornado was almost as tall as the demon. Extending a windy palm the elemental threw its power forward, a fresh cyclone which would have toppled buildings slammed outward into the demon’s scaly red chest.

It might as well have been a cool summer’s breeze.

Stomping into that blast the demon’s arms snapped forward with a speed beyond anything that size should have ever possessed. Its palms met with an eardrum shattering thunderclap right in the center of the djinn. When its hands withdrew the wind had stopped.

The djinn was gone.

Everyone looked at Hassan. “As I said,” the man said, eyes twitching under a sweat-soaked forehead, “we should flee. The demon’s summoner has a capacity beyond any mortal.” He pointed to a spot on the ground behind the demon.

To where a certain beige-coat wearing asshole stood within a sickly green circle of protection.

I swore. “Nick you absolute bastard.”

The demon took a colossal step towards us, the ground shaking from the impact. The pyramid swayed in response, dust and loose stones bouncing down its steps. Not good. Really fucking not good.

I looked at the tubes running between Fred and Miguel and thought about the fight in Syria. Patterns like to repeat, Alal had said.

If they came in threes then this was only the second round.

“Hassan, you know any geomancy?” I asked as the demon took another thundering step.

“I practiced it in a former life. But that does us no good, my well is dry.”

“Shit,” muttered Fred. “C’mere Hassan, let’s get you hooked up too. I’m gonna need a transfusion of my own if we make it out of this.”

“Not you, Fred,” I said as the ground rolled again. “Guys you need to slow that thing down. Buy the time for Kurohoshi’s cruise missile or whatever he’s got coming.”

“How the hell you expect us to do that?” Tanya asked, knuckles white as they gripped a pair of fresh blue swords.

“Be who you are.” Despite the pain I snapped the wings as wide as they could go and sent a prayer into that ever-present column of power within.

Lord, you’ve blessed me with this glorious light. I beg you to bless them with it too.

Closing my eyes I pulled down everything I could muster and poured it all into my companions.

 

For Captain Chizoba Isong everything was suddenly white with both great peace and also perfect clarity. She stood on the wall facing a horror straight out of one’s worst nightmares yet still was calm.

Her mother’s voice sounded clear as a bell in her ears, singing a tune Isong had long forgotten but always remembered.

Abiyoyo, Abiyoyo…all night, all day, angels watching over me, my Lord. All night, all day, angels watching over me…

Today she too was one of those angels guarding against the monsters of the night. With an ivory smile set against the shining ebony of her skin she extended her power.

The children of the world would sleep safe tonight.

 

Tanya had never wanted to be a thief let alone an assassin. As a child she’d dreamed of being one of those strong superwomen, defeating evil in style and standing proud. Filling the ribs of her attempted rapist with a multitude of shiny knives had shattered that dream.

He was a politician of fame and power. And she was but the daughter of a lowly mechanic struggling to get by as a single father. A man who had believed in the law and that it would take her side. Thus he had turned her in. She’d fled, not knowing at the time whether her dad still lived or had bled out from the fight caused by her escape.

All she knew is that the MCO and the police would hunt her down to face a fate likely much worse than death.

That new life had taught her to kill or be killed and that the only one she could count on was herself alone. She had taken the moniker of ‘Blades’ and many were those who feared her skills. And many more who wanted to employ them.

The light pouring into her revealed all without mercy: all the blood spilled only for the greed of her employers, all the relationships denied because trust could never be given. All the self-hatred buried night after lonely night into a festering core that gave back only ulcers and nightmares.

But within its rays shone something else, an offered visage of glory. In that vision she stood tall and proud using her ability of manifestation not for the scum of the underworld but to save countless others whom fate had also tripped and sent tumbling down paths of horror and pain.

Like a woman drowning she frantically lunged towards it.

 

There were voices. Many chattering voices swarming over themselves as they filled his ears and even his thoughts. Miguel had believed he’d buried the ceaseless noise long ago as a young boy praying in terror for inner silence, ignoring them so thoroughly he’d convinced himself that they had never been real.

By the angel’s light they returned and became more clear than ever before.

Why do you ignore us? We call because we are one and as one you call to us.

All around him swayed the flames burning only one step away from the physical, awaiting the chance to paint glorious patterns across the world from every matchstick and candle’s flame to every roaring forest fire. All were one. All were the dance of heat and fire.

You have forgotten. Life after life clad in mortal flesh even your spirit takes their shape.

He knew that dance. He touched it every time he extended himself across that boundary to pull a piece of it back even against the searing pain inflicted upon skin and tissue. Each time an agony and each time a secret ecstasy.

But we remember.

In the brilliance of the angel’s glory so did he.

 

Fred found himself floating over a different scene entirely.

Afghanistan. The medical tent.

The docs were busy working on his buddy, Corporal Vincent Arroyo, who having stepped too close to an IUD now had a foot that was only so much spaghetti. The nurse had cursed upon discovering that Arroyo’s blood was O-negative. She quickly put out the request for donations because the field station was fresh out of the rare type. Fred’s dog-tags proved he’d be a match and they’d hooked him up.

That’s when the miracle occurred.

As Fred watched his buddy’s foot regenerate and all the astonished reactions, a warm and friendly voice spoke to him.

You always healed quickly as a child.

“Yeah. No broken bones either. Figured it’d be useful in the army. Never guessed I could do this.”

What happened after your talent was discovered?

“Army wanted to experiment. Military Intelligence got involved. Shit got spooky fast.”

What did you do?

“Had a friend in special forces I’d met on a mission. He was a lot higher up and pulled some serious strings to get me assigned to his unit instead.”

Is that what you wish? To always be a soldier?

“I’m good at it. And my blood can save the team. That’s what matters.”

It is not your blood that saves them but the pieces of your spirit you gift along with it. Here, let me show you. For without your help now she may never recover.

Fred’s vision shifted. The princess stood on the wall, wings and arms extended as her aura of light linked itself to everyone on the team. Yet a darkness roiled under the gash in one of those brilliant wings and was trying to worm its way towards her heart.

Guided by the voice Fred got to work.

 

Hassan ibn Tariq al-Shadid, enveloped within the light’s bright nimbus, wept openly and knelt prostrate against the earth. Hands swept a circle around his body before drawing mystic symbols across the dirt. A throat quickly becoming raw with dust kept crying out the same phrase:

“Astaghfirullah!“

Plunging power into the mystic design and reaching deep in the ground to hold it steady against the demon’s quakes he knew in his heart of hearts he was unworthy of what he asked. But he begged Allah for forgiveness all the same.

“Astaghfirullah! Astaghfirullah! Astaghfirullah!”

 

Chapter 28 - Destiny

My eyes opened to a very different scene.

The captain stood at the wall’s edge with arms outstretched as if bathing in the light still flowing through her, a light transformed and projected outward into the turquoise pattern of her shields.

Except this time the scale was immense. Her manifested defense stretched from sand to sky preventing the further advance of the towering demon who howled its fury against a barrier refusing to yield.

That wasn’t all he had to howl about. Swords the size of Buicks stuck out of his back, all shimmering with the same unearthly blue sheen. Tanya stood tall by Isong’s side as she conjured a steady stream of telephone pole-sized blades to rain upon the beast.

Said beast was also flailing its hands about its face trying to swat away a flying patch of flame which compared to it was no larger than a butterfly but was in truth as tall as a man. Scratch that. Because it was a man. The light from my hand connected to the fiery spirit and recognized it.

Miggy. He’d transformed into a being of pure fire and was gleefully tossing burning elemental flames into the demon’s eyes and ears. Even up the thing’s widely flared angry nostrils.

Holy shit.

The demon stumbled backwards before slamming a massive foot into the ground to keep steady. The echoes of that collision visibly rolled across the sand and I winced as the wave through the earth approached.

It stopped before reaching our wall.

The ground around the pyramid complex held a glow all its own and the tremors flowed around as water rushes past outcroppings of rock at the edge of the sea. The glow’s power flowed from the sigils and magic of a man drenched in sweat as he chanted to himself within a circle crudely drawn into the dirt upon the wall.

Hassan’s geomancy was in full swing and the pyramid remained standing.

That left only Fred. To my surprise he was standing behind me with eyes aglow much like mine.

He spoke but he didn’t sound like the Fred I knew.

“Amariel, beware. Their patterns cannot maintain such glory for long without suffering damage. Even now there will be lingering effects.”

If my jaw wasn’t attached it would have hit the ground. “Raphael?!”

Fred blinked. He still shone with the flowing light but his eyes returned to their usual shade of blue. “Sorry princess. He took off. He helped me patch your wing but we can’t fully heal it. He said that was beyond even his power to repair. Go easy on it.”

“Thanks, Fred.” I flexed the wing which definitely felt better and unfortunately had to accept that this was not a good time to try to chat with an archangel. Raphael was right with the warning, through the connections with everyone I could feel the incredible strain on their souls from the energy coursing through their spirits.

I was going to have to cut them off and soon.

Isong had been listening. With determined concentration she commanded, “Leave me up until last. I can take it.”

Looking at her pattern I wanted to protest. The threads were burning so brightly their cohesion could snap at any moment. I drew in a breath, preparing to argue with her.

I didn’t get the chance. In the sky a shadow passed before the sun and that shadow let out a roar probably heard all the way in Jerusalem.

“Is that…?” I asked in utter astonishment.

Isong grinned. “About damned time.”

A black dragon with wings of glorious night as broad as the pyramid behind us dove downward with another roar to slam into the towering demon, both tumbling and leaving a huge ripping gouge in the earth as their wake.

Kuroshi had come.

Without wasting a beat I quickly shut down the streams going to the team. Everyone that is except Hassan.

I knelt outside his circle. “Can you hold?”

He interrupted his chant to look up at me with haunted eyes. “Inshallah.” If god wills.

I bit a lip while turning to watch the two giants pound each other into the sand and added my own prayer to his.

~o~O~o~

 

Nick cursed into a mic hanging past his neck.

“A fucking dragon? Sardar, you seeing this shit?”

Sweat beaded across his forehead as he stood within the sickly green fires surrounding the circle he’d painstakingly carved into a wide marble slab throughout the previous night. The portal had moved the entire thing out to the sands, a feat incredible all by itself but that was Ms. Sardar’s doing. Or, if he was honest about it, Sariel’s.

For she was Sariel’s incarnate.

Thanks to a carefully handled chunk of Bishop’s crystal energy storage he had then done the impossible and made a deal with one of the Dukes of Hell. Not that the Duke had asked for much. The chance to destroy five thousand years worth of history as a snub to Heru was offer enough.

Nick had done his homework and picked a demon that the god had once offended by daring to kick its ass back to hell many ages ago.

Over the earbud the woman’s voice was calm and clinical. “Their struggle should be enough to collapse the pyramid. Kill the bodies of those inside and the day is ours.”

He shook his head, tattooed palms slick with the hellish energies keeping the demon manifested. Something as big as this wasn’t a fire-and-forget matter, it required constant focus.

Only two seals had been broken, after all. Though the loss of those two had actually made his contract with the Duke possible.

“The Summoner is doubling as a geomancer and protecting the structure,” Nick said. “And while Jordan just dropped channeling to the rest she’s still fueling his efforts.”

“Then she will burn out his talents. With the shield-bearer out have your pet take down Heru’s tomb directly and finish this. Their drones won’t hold against another assault.”

“With what? My guy’s got a dragon munching on his ass!”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

“I assure you I am not.”

The giant beasts traded more blows, each bellowing their outrage as they tore out chunks of the other only to reform the gashes moments later. Nick didn’t know which of their energy was going to run out first: his shard of the bomb feeding the demon’s manifestation or the dragon’s own obvious deep well of mana.

And with Jordan still lurking on that wall the dragon had plenty of power in reserve if it came to that. Unlike the humans the dragon’s capacity for energy was nearly unparalleled. She could blast into it all day without concern.

He needed to be more clever with his own supply.

On a brighter note that asshole Camael hadn’t bothered to show up. Barakiel’s rage burned brightly within Nick’s chest screaming for vengeance but Nick knew he’d be out-classed in a one-on-one with Heaven’s blood-soaked champion.

Besides, Nick thought while gritting his teeth, this wasn’t about vengeance. It was about all the souls of the remaining innocent Nephelim who deserved a chance. They hadn’t asked to be born, that was on the Grigori’s plate of guilt not theirs. It just wasn’t right for Heaven to slaughter them simply for existing.

With reincarnation lifetimes were countless. But soul-death was forever.

He should know. He’d watched a demon swallow the soul of the woman he loved and shred her essence into a billion parts. All because he’d failed to hide from her a cursed ancient tome he’d been loaned for research. She’d thought she was strong enough to use its contents.

He’d been foolish enough to believe her.

Snarling in a language no human throat should ever have uttered, Nick threw a command to the demon bound under his control by hellish compact. He beat the demon’s resistance to the idea with a further pulse of twisted green fire through the spell’s connection.

With the dragon’s jaws locked around one forearm the demon reached up with its other causing the dragon’s eyes to grow wary and claws rise up to prepare a defense.

The demon didn’t strike. Instead it grabbed hold of one of its horns and to the dragon’s surprise snapped the bone clear off from its head. With a twist of its mighty torso the demon whiplashed the arm to send the horn speeding through the air in an arc aimed for the pyramid. Two remaining drones maneuvered swiftly to catch it, managing to slow it down even as the weight of the horn crushed their ceramo-plastics into jagged shards of junk. The horn came to a halt against the rising steps of the walls of Netjeriykhet’s final resting place even as the defenders cheered.

Power wasn’t everything. Knowing how to use it was.

Nick shouted another command before his opponents had time to react. The horn detonated in a fireball of that same greenish hellfire, the sulfur-infused smoke immediately blocking all sight of the pyramid.

He shouted his own cry of victory. “Booyah!”

His glory however was premature. The beats of mighty wings from the continued struggle between giants slowly blew aside the smoke to reveal his failure.

The pyramid was still standing.

Defiantly it now glowed with electric fire while hieroglyphs raced along the steps in a mad swirl of protection all its own.

“Oh come on! That’s not fair!”

Feeling his concentration waver he snapped his attention back to the demon, trying at the same time to gauge the strength of Netjeriykhet’s new defenses.

Yeah they looked pretty solid.

“We’re fucked, Sardar,” he said into the comm link. “I don’t know where that shield came from but big red there is not capable of punching through it.”

“Then I recommend you abandon your demon and use the remains of your shard to trigger an escape.”

“Fine, yeah. There’s always the fourth seal. We can still stop that one.”

“You misunderstand me, Barakiel. I fully intend to win this day.”

Puzzled, Nick looked around. Realization kicked in as a smaller portal opened up another kilometer to the south. He didn’t need to see it to know what was being pushed through.

He could feel its presence directly.

“Oh god,” he said as the blood drained from his face. “Sariel you total fuck.”

~o~O~o~

 

If Tanya and Isong had still been conscious they would have cheered with the rest of us when the pyramid’s wards went online to defend against the crazy horned attack.

“Holy shit! Erica did it!” I practically bounced in the air with relief. Seeing that chunk of demon detonate had definitely sucked rocks. But did the pyramid’s activation mean that the seal itself had broken? Wouldn’t I have felt that?

Problem was that I did feel something. Spinning around to the southwest I looked past the ongoing titanic duel of raging fist versus tooth and claw.

I saw it the same time as Nick’s far-cast spell formed in the air nearby allowing him to yell at me. A large purple construct resting on the back of a modified and probably automated golf-cart was being driven through yet another portal.

Nick’s voice was shrill. “Jordan! You’ve got to get out of there! The damn thing is already triggered and it can’t be stopped - Egypt and Israel are fucked! Get out!”

Nick’s spell cut off as his green circle was swallowed by a portal leaving nothing but dirt behind. Dirt and a pissed off demon whose source of power had just been lost.

The dragon roared triumph and went for its neck, oblivious to the larger danger behind it.

“Fred!” I shouted, taking to the air. “Take care of everyone!”

If he replied I didn’t hear it for I was already speeding across the sands as fast as patched wings could carry. Not that I had any idea of what he could to do to save anyone from what was coming. The magnitude of the power enclosed within that refrigerator sized crystal sitting in the back of the cart was insane. The total energy pegged off the charts of anything I’d managed to channel yet.

And I was already feeling the exhaustive effects from what I’d already used today.

What the hell could I even do? I’d seen how the device at Whateley had shattered windows. This thing was so freaking powerful that it was going to level structures for hundreds of miles around if not farther.

Not to mention wiping out the minds of everyone within thousands.

As the desert sand sped past below several possibilities crossed my mind, each like a miniature movie branching out in their own mental window. Desperate I sorted through them, trying to find an idea that resonated truth.

Could I fly the bomb into space? No. There wasn’t time, I’d never make it.

Absorb it like the queen had? No. My pattern wasn’t strong enough; Fred’s patch was good but something in there was still seriously messed up and had already torn free again. I’d pop like a party balloon hooked up to a firehose.

Heaven help me but everything I thought of just ended with billions of deaths. The bomb was going to nuke the pyramid and the seal - which I knew in that weird dream-like knowing - was only seconds away from shattering.

With the pyramid destroyed the resulting flood of energy was going to kill most of the world.

There had to be a way. There just had to. But nothing was clicking, as if there were no threads in the pattern of destiny that didn’t result in a tragedy beggaring all belief.

Dammit if there wasn’t a path I’d have to make one. In the simulation against the art-lover’s nuke I’d failed horribly, but now?

Failure wasn’t an option.

A totally crazy idea finally sprang into mind. I’d managed to teleport to Egypt and my clothes for once had come along for the ride, including Camael’s bracers. Alal had also dropped a seemingly flippant line about perception and location for ‘beings like us’. What if her words hadn’t been so random? What if she had said a literal truth? One deliberately spoken at that moment to plant an idea in my thick head? No instincts of fate seemed to resonate with it but so what.

It was all I had.

Leaving a trail of scattered light billowing forth from the wing’s wound ripping itself wider, I swooped in, grabbed hold of the crystal and lifted it free of the cart.

I slammed all concentration into visualizing the one place where I’d felt safe since all this crazy shit had started on that day Soren had stolen my niece. I pictured my bedroom back at Whateley: the purple bedspread, the wooden beams filling the rafters, the still-broken balcony doors, the mostly-empty bookshelves where Khan liked to sleep.

And I visualized those triple rings of protection carved into the floor meant to protect the world.

Already pulsing energy outward to trigger those prepared mystical defenses I landed on the bed with wings and arms cradling the doomsday device.

As the crystal exploded and the terror felt by slaughtered millions began shredding through my mind and body, I caught sight of Khan. He was standing by his food dish safely outside the circles looking back at me as the wards flashed on in full.

His fuzzy little face was rather sad.

In that moment I knew that the seal had broken and Danielle was gone.

The room’s reality ripped away and I didn’t care where to.

~o~O~o~

 

The shattering of the Third Seal rumbled through the halls of Netjeriykhet’s legacy, smashing raw and glorious power into the two gods daring to stand athwart the flow and slow the resultant tsunami. They strained to hold just long enough for the genius of the mortal’s device to route the power back into itself along fractal dimensions which themselves expanded infinitely within the moments caught between the transitions of life and death.

The hawk-headed god shrieked a mighty war-cry as his all-seeing eyes perceived every outflow of that stream, relaying precise directions to his animal-headed companion who in turn bent his immeasurable strength to force the multitude into the channels manifesting out of the hieroglyphic-forged reality by the woman riding the controls behind them.

Together in perfect synergy they lit up each and every pyramid across Egypt and kept the world from being overwhelmed by the energetic bounty bottled up within Gaia’s heart for so long.

A massive rotting tree of sharp spindles and jagged roots clawed and dug at the sides of the flow attempting to burst those channels and let the energy tear across the world. The two gods in unity and sheer focus of will shattered the nightmare’s trunk into innumerable wooden shards which were immediately swept away.

Around the globe every mystically sensitive individual felt the hairs on arms and necks dance with electric excitement to the presence of a new - yet safely contained - source of magic. And every fae spirit locked for millennia as human incarnates paused what they were doing to look around in puzzlement.

In their ears and in their hearts they heard singing.

 

Epilogue - Forge

The ranch house was modest, a single story under a shingle roof containing only a handful of small bedrooms and secluded behind the pines surrounding the few acres of property.

A long pebble drive lead to the house’s front where a U.S. flag flew proudly over a black and white POW/MIA flag that waved underneath. The drive split to lead into a closed garage, but before terminating there it forked again to end in front of a modest workshop.

It was towards this workshop that Soren walked, long coat pulled closed against the autumn wind. The shop’s roll-up door had been pulled up and the sound of hammer to steel rang out in a steady beat.

He paused at the entrance, watching the burly smith pound at the glowing iron as sweat dripped from the shaved head onto the protective leather apron covering a thick chest.

The smith grunted, using an axe to score a line down the center of the hammered-thin metal before folding it over and placing it back into the forge’s glowing embers.

As the smith used a wet rag to mop at his face and head, Soren spoke.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Polk?”

The smith didn’t look over at the visitor, swinging the rag over a muscled shoulder before taking a deep pull from a bottle of water. “I’m retired.”

“Do soldiers ever truly retire?”

“Some do, some don’t. Who are you?”

“Callas Soren. I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

Putting down the bottle, the smith again picked up the metal tongs. “I didn’t ask what people call you. I asked who you were.”

“That is not a simple question to answer.”

A grin split the tanned skin of the smith’s face. “Sure it is, chief. You just aren’t sure how much I’d understand.”

The corners of the dark sorcerer’s lips turned upwards. “And how much would you?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been wondering how long it’d take for you to show. Figured it might be a few months, but heck it’s only been a few weeks since you shook everything up and triggered the dreams to come every damned night.”

“So you remember then.”

The tongs plucked the iron from the fire and held it over the anvil. The smith picked up the hammer and began to beat on the metal, causing the color to shift from yellow to orange and then red. “I remember enough. I remember the name I had when I once served yours.”

“Nathanael.”

“Ayup. That’s the one. So now that you’re here, hit me with the pitch. What’s the plan?”

“I have been gathering the Powers that we may once again serve the Light.”

The smith frowned, the hammer blows missing a single beat. “We chose not to follow the First when the others winged their way after him.”

“I don’t mean him. I mean the one who aided us against Azazel.”

Rescoring the metal, it again was folded and returned to the fire. “Her light burned out, Camael. She couldn’t hack it and she’s gone.”

“She has been reborn, stronger than before. She will restore the Light to Heaven.”

The smith stared at his visitor. “Her spirit shredded itself granting us the power to hold Azazel down. There was no miracle that could have saved her.”

“Not then. But Azrael preserved the fragments and Gabriel used her own pattern to make them whole.”

“Impossible, even for Gabriel.”

“Do you remember the prophet we raised to Heaven to testify against the Grigori?”

“Enoch? The one who became Metatron?”

“Yes, him. Do you know how he was so transfigured?”

“Elohim spoke through him and it was done.”

“But first he had been given a seed. And when Gabriel was commanded to the garden to retrieve it, she took not one but two.”

“She disobeyed?”

“Azrael has not judged her actions so.”

“Mighty fine hair you’re splitting there. Not everyone will agree.”

“That is why I need those who once fought at my side.”

The smith peered past the other man’s shoulder. “And where is this new light?”

“She is somewhere safe, as safe as can be until we are ready. Are you with me, Nathanael?”

Pulling the glowing iron out once more, the hammer returned to its work. “Always have been, chief. Just give the word. I’d invite you in for dinner but you have the look of a man on a tight schedule.”

“There are more to find. Not all have remembered as easily as you.”

“I wouldn’t call it easy.”

“No, I suppose not. I will return when it is time.”

With that the sorcerer turned and walked outside. After a single step past the entryway he gasped as a knee buckled and his eyes filled with a crimson fire matching the smith’s metal. “This cannot be!”

Still holding the iron by the tongs, the smith too had felt a shift rip across the world. “Chief! You alright? What the hell was that?”

Straightening, Soren turned to face the smith. Strain and dismay surrounded those burning eyes. “The light, she falls beyond this world.”

“To what realm?”

“She burns past the gates of Hell.”

The smith pointed the glowing red steel towards his Commander.

“Then we’d best go get her.”

 

Continued in Book 4: Light And Shadow

 

 

Thanks to reader feedback it was thought that listing all the characters might be useful considering how complex things are getting. So below is a list of characters for Book 3 Call of the Light! Wasn't sure where to put it, but thought a blog entry would be safe.

Warning!

If you have not read Into The Light or Light's Promise then the list below will contain spoilers!!

 

Call Of The Light - Dramatis Personae

 

Angels

Jordan Emrys / Justin Thorne / Aradia / Amariel (’God has promised’) - Once a mild mannered middle-aged software geek (Justin) everything changed when his niece Danielle got kidnapped by a mysterious sorcerer. As a result of trying to save Danielle Justin became Jordan Emrys and had hoped to learn to live with suddenly having become a teenage girl herself. But Jordan was more than just that, she was the reincarnation of the Nephelim daughter of Lucifer named Aradia and with the arrival of her wings she learned her true and angelic name: Amariel.

Callas Soren - An ageless sorcerer who manipulated the start of the Apocalypse by kidnapping Danielle Thorne and virtue of ritual and circumstance triggered Justin Thorne’s transformative ascension into the angel Amariel. He himself was once Camael (’He who sees God’), an angel who accompanied Gabriel in investigating the transgressions of the Grigori.

Nicholas ‘Nick’ Wright / Barakiel (’Lightning of God’) - Demonologist and consultant for the Department of Paranormal Affairs, Nick has discovered he is the reincarnation of a Grigori angel, specifically the fallen angel Barakiel. He is also a former student of the sorcerer Callas Soren.

Azrael (’Whom God Helps’) - The Angel of Death and Judgment. Raised the abandoned Aradia along with the help of the fae Siabh.

Gabriel (’Strength of God’) - An Archangel who is currently missing from Heaven while apparently busy behind the scenes manipulating events on Earth surrounding Jordan, Danielle, and pretty much everyone.

Raphael (’God has Healed’) - An Archangel who assisted Jordan and became dismayed at witnessing the restoration of a fallen angel to his full empowered Name.

Azazel (’Scapegoat’) - Fallen angel and former Captain of the Grigori. He gained power through a deal with an agent of the Primal Chaos and used it to corrupt and control his fellow angels. Bound by Camael for thousands of years under a mountain to contain the Chaos energy he possessed, Camael returned and cast him into Hell.

Tsáyidiel (’God’s Hunter’) - formerly a Fallen angel mind-controlled by Azazel, redeemed and restored by Amariel’s Light.

Kokabiel (’Star of God’) / Ester Berglund - A Grigori who had spent millennia consumed by Azazel’s Chaos. Restored to the light by Amariel which also freed her incarnate self: the young girl Ester.

Sandalphon (title meaning ‘co-brother’) - An Archangel in charge of the Book of Life, said in lore to have been the prophet Elijah. Metaphysical brother (twin) of Metatron.

Metatron (’Voice of God’) / Enoch - An Archangel whose purpose is to bring Elohim’s commands to those unable to hear Him directly. Originally was Enoch, a prophet raised to Heaven to testify on the dark doings of the Grigori on the Earth.

Tamiel (’Perfection of God’) / August Rose - A Grigori who had strong ties to the fae. By chance their incarnate self August touched a fragment of the Book of Life and thereby became entwined with it.

Shemyaza - Co-Captain of the Grigori with Azazel. With Heaven’s denial of their petition to return Home after being on earth for countless millennia, Shemyaza began a campaign of the Grigori breeding with human women to form an army of empowered Nephelim with which to declare independence from Heaven.

Michael (’Who is like God’) - Prince and Archangel, Heaven’s Defender, Commander of the Host.

Helel (’Shining one’) / Lucifer (’Lightbringer’) / The Morningstar - First of the angels, bearer of the Light, who abandoned Heaven and later his daughter Aradia.

Beliel (’God is my Lord’ / ‘Worthless’) - Second of the angels, former ruler of a domain in Hell but somehow escaped to Earth and resided there during the time when the Grigori fell from grace.

Gadiel (’God is my Fortune’) - A Kerubim, taking the form of both bull and falcon.

Hizkiel - A Kerubim, taking the form of lioness and eagle. Gabriel’s standard bearer.

Ruhiel (’Wind of God’) - A Kerubim, taking the form of a condor.

Zakiel (’Choice of God’) - A fallen Grigori.

Sariel (’Command of God’) - A fallen Grigori.

Armaros (’Accursed One’) - A fallen Grigori.

Ananel (’Grace of God’) - A fallen Grigori.

 

Fae / Gods / Mythics

Danielle Thorne / Siabh / Whateley Codename: Shioc (Gaelic for ‘Frost’) - Manifesting as a low-powered mutant at a young age, Danielle was raised by her mother after her father abandoned them. When her mother died in a car accident Danielle went to live with her uncle Justin. Recovering from being kidnapped by a magical tornado Danielle discovers that it’s not just her former uncle’s life which had been turned upside down. Danielle herself was the reincarnation of the fae priestess Siabh who had worked with Aradia to seal away the remaining mana of the world before it could be depleted beyond recovery.

Queen Fionnabhair - a Fae Queen ruling over the dream realm Arcadia and other vassal realms. Younger sister of Siabh and seven brothers. All the brothers died. With Siabh’s taking of the vows of priestess of Gaia, Fionnabhair was doomed to be queen.

Gwydion - Queen Fionnabhair’s Champion, one of the eldest of the fae.

Galen - a minor noble in the Queen’s Court.

Jesse Cameron / Zap / Heru (Horus) - Incarnate of the Kemetic god Heru, Jesse lived many years as a hawk before returning to human form to aid Jordan. As his god-self he journeyed with her to Arcadia and fought against Queen Fionnabhair.

Set - Kemetic God, known trickster and snarky manipulator.

Kami Kurohoshi / Drathonix - Incarnate of the ancient and revered black dragon Drathonix. Former Green Beret and current underworld information broker with his own dedicated team of operators.

Alal - Archon of the Primal Chaos and occasional airline passenger.

Bristlebeak - a small forest fae ever in a quest for gooseberries but who, after much careful consideration, decided that the tastiness of a lightberry was more than a sufficient substitution.

 

Thorne Family

Khan - Jordan’s much snuggled Maine Coone kitty. He once joined Jordan in the dream-realms where he occasionally became a larger-than-life tiger in order to defend her. Adores Jordan and demands his food bowl always receive proper attention.

Isaiah Cohen - Best friend and brother in all but name to Justin Thorne and also a high-powered attorney. Danielle’s legal guardian.

Caroline Thorne - Justin’s beloved wife who despite a valiant struggle still succumbed to the ravishes of cancer, leaving her grieving husband behind.

Helena Thorne - Danielle’s mother, deceased.

Mark Boone - Caroline Thorne’s brother and Agent of the Department of Paranormal Affairs (DPA).

 

Whateley Students

Jenna Beltran / Rockslide - Jordan’s best friend at school with the ability to turn her skin to stone. This has the unfortunate side-effect of causing all her hair to fall out each time she uses her power. She still mourns her younger brother Thomas who died due to self-inflicted immolation after he had a literal mutant burn-out which had left him horribly burnt and scarred over his entire body.

Brendan Rogers / Tank - A rather tall mutant who went to Whateley hoping to someday be a superhero and use his invulnerability powers to fight against evil.

Tamara McPherson / Sigil - A budding witch who has become good friends with Danielle. Tamara once was saved from possession by a demon due to Jordan and Zap’s efforts. Her mother Marilyn is a High Priestess of some reknown.

Haruko Kurohoshi - Daughter of Kami Kurohoshi, Haruko is Danielle’s roommate. She is always armed with her trusty jade dagger and more skilled with its use than she likes to let on. Her spirit also hosts a dragon egg which usually swallows whatever magical energy she can muster.

Erica Lain / Fields - Having stolen a demonic pendant from her father’s safe and used it to influence her roommate Tamara into granting access to Tamara’s scrying sphere in order to hack various secure networks, Erica fled Whateley only to be taken by Queen Fionnabhair as a way to escape Azazel-possessed MCO agents. Thanks to Jordan’s risky negotiations with the Queen while in Arcadia rescuing Danielle, Erica was also set free of her oath of service to the Queen and saved.

Magnus Eriksson / Barrier - Magnus was raised by a grandmother who passed on the lore of how the fae once ruled over an enslaved mankind and wished to do so again. His encounters with both Danielle and Jordan have not gone all that well for him. He is able to project powerful magic barriers with the ability to block both physical and magical attacks.

Cassius Biron - A student of magic sharing a class with Jordan and Jenna taught by Rabbi Kirov.

Tian Li / Flint - A young martial artist with a minor ability to spark fires.

Evie Whitscomb / Mindshriek - Young Evie has a talent for manifesting her emotions, either her despair or her hope. It is only recently and with Jordan’s help that she has realized she is capable of hope. It was through Evie’s open heart even after all the trauma of her childhood that Kokabiel too was willing to embrace hope and accept redemption in the light.

 

DPA

Gregory Kirov - Gadgeteer and Devisor who works for the DPA creating various metaphysical analytical tools including his beloved ‘Big Betty’.

Elliot Goodman - Director of West Coast operations for the DPA.

Natalie Usher - Psychotherapist working for the DPA on loan to Whateley Academy.

Martin Diego - Wizard in employment with the DPA (suspended), father of Erica Lain.

 

Whateley Staff

Rabbi Immanuel Kirov - Rabbi and instructor at Whateley Academy, brother to Gregory and Anton.

Circe - Chairwoman of the Department of Magic and ancient sorceress of reknown.

Louis Geintz / Fubar - Head of the psychics and psychologists at the school, he is constrained to a water-tank due to an unfortunate transformation. As an extremely powerful psychic he uses astral travel to manifest where he needs to those he wishes to talk to.

Mrs. Carson - Headmistress and former superhero.

Sensei Ito - Strict and disciplined instructor of martial arts.

Gunny Bardue - In charge of the combat simulators.

 

Military

Major Barrett - An Army Major.

Corporal Alvarez - An Army Corporal.

 

Underworld Operatives

Fred Anderson / Doc - Former soldier now working for Kami Kurohoshi. His blood has a unique healing factor and can be shared with others.

Derek McCann - Hacker and devisor in the employ of Kami Kurohoshi.

Miguel ‘Miggy’ Ramirez - Former soldier also working for Kami Kurohoshi. Capable of reaching into the elemental realm of fire and unleashing that fire on his foes, with byproduct that his own fingers similarly get burnt to a crisp.

Hassan ibn Tariq al-Shadid / The Summoner - An assassin.

Tanya - A multi-sword for hire.

Bishop - San Fransisco nightclub owner.

Ms. Firuzeh Sardar - Kidnapper of Nick Wright and worker of the magic which triggered his memory of being Barakiel. Likely a fallen Grigori.

Legal

Mrs. Feingold - A no-nonsense attorney in Isaiah Cohen’s lawfirm.

Tracy Matheson - Isaiah Cohen’s legal assistant and secretary.