3. Is that an Angel?
Nevaeh
I groan like a dying goat when I hear two more hurried footsteps approaching me.
I’m in the middle of slicing a Deviant in half, panting like I’m on my last breath with one arm secure around the kid. It’s so not a good time for another dumpster fire.
Where is a fucking miracle when you need one?
Fates, it's tricky to turn my back on every blow before it can touch the toddler strapped to my chest. The said toddler is taking the nap of his life—which I'm starting to think is not really a nap—while my back is making space for fresh slices.
Deviants are already energy-consuming with their rabid senses and little to no fighting style, but add my exhaustion, constant bleeding, and a dwindling Divine, and you’ve got the perfect recipe of ‘how to enter Azure in five quick steps’.
And, I’m going to Azure. No one can stop me. I refuse to be stuck in another nightmare after this one ends.
A girl needs a break, dammit.
Surprisingly, instead of adding to my panic, the new footsteps light up my Divine like a firecracker, and now I’m worried I’m losing what little is left of my sanity.
Suddenly, my spear slices through the air, and I stumble forward from the force I was putting behind the attack. The Deviant before me drops to my feet with an arrow sticking out of his forehead.
That was not me.
And now I have goo on my bare feet. Ew .
Two warriors covered in armor from head to toe sprint through the woods, arrows raining on their arrival.
Dark shadows make it impossible to see their faces, but I clearly hear the sharp crack of a whip that vibrates the ground beneath me. Twin whips covered in spikes, snake around two Deviants and dig into their flesh before throwing them away.
I wait for an arrow to come for my head, but strangely, not a single weapon is aimed at me. The two surprise arrivals are solely focused on the brainless puppets.
What kind of trickery is this?
It’s clear the strangers aren’t on the coven’s side judging by how the ground soaking in deviant goo, but they can’t be on mine either.
No one is ever on my side.
Maybe I should’ve been more specific about that miracle.
I’ve been hit in the head countless times in the past decade, so I’ve learned to blame everything weird I see on my head injuries. I would write this down as ‘ hallucinating again because brain is useless’ if I wasn’t seeing it with my own two eyes.
The warrior holding the twin whips twirls them in a manner that conjures up a storm.
A fucking storm .
What begins as a small rush of wind quickly transforms into an angry black tornado with bright purple lightning wrapped around and inside it.
What. Is. Happening.
Two giant tornadoes spinning in tight circles, fast enough to make me dizzy, sweep up the remaining Deviants before smashing them into trees. How these two take care of the brainwashed puppies is something I barely register before Deviants start barfing their black, gooey organs.
Wait… how… no… what?
There's no way I’m imagining Deviants coughing up pieces of decaying lungs and melting into boiled soup.
Side note: I think I’m going to be sick.
Whips? Arrows? And storms out of thin air. The ones with such powers aren’t supposed to be strolling through coven grounds and killing Deviants.
The coven defeated the Horsemen years ago, right?
More Deviants fall to the ground with arrows lodged in their necks before getting carried away by the wind.
Horsemen Famine?
No, that can’t be.
The arrows can be misleading. Anyone can have a bow and shoot with practiced precision. And the whips... they can be replicated too. For all I know, this is another one of Visha's mind games.
Oh, how I wish my Divine wasn’t dwindling to uselessness so I could figure out what they are.
The two male warriors— I’m guessing by their builds —quickly finish off everyone before frantically searching the forest. If they’re looking for more Deviants, should I tell them that I already took care of the rest?
In case my lousy luck returns, I use their distraction and quietly bring my spear in front of me as a contingency plan, choosing to believe they can’t see my arm trembling.
“Nevaeh?”
My head snaps to the man carefully approaching me like you would a wild animal. Good . They should be scared shitless because if they touch me or my kid, I will eat them alive. But n ot literally.
My throbbing knee humbles me right away. The pain temporarily blocks my hearing with a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
With a mask of indifference, I cautiously lower myself to the ground without taking my eyes or spear from the men. This feels an awful lot like I’m submitting to them, and it bruises my ego more than my ribs. But then I think about face-planting in front of them. I would rather look meek than take that mortifying fall.
I hate that I don’t look as terrifying as I want to, but for their sake, I hope they don’t test me. Having more blood on my hands would hurt my gentle soul.
Just kidding.
I would gladly carve them to pieces if I’m threatened .
The man who for some unknown reason knows my name crouches at a safe distance as if to appear non-threatening and pays no attention to the weapon pointed at him.
Brave? Yes .
Stupid? Also, yes .
The moonlight plays a clever game of hide-and-seek, sneaking through the gaps between trees to bestow its soft hue on the face previously hidden by dark shadows.
When my eyes meet the most beautiful pair of dark emerald eyes I’ve ever seen, I’m almost certain I gasp out loud. I’m so fucking glad I sat down before I made a fool of myself by falling on my ass.
Because. Mother. Fucking. Shitballs.
My eyes refuse to blink in fear of him disappearing into thin air. I refuse to breathe until I know the slightest gush of air won’t wake me up from this beautiful dream.
Every bit of my pain and confusion is forgotten, and my trembling hand freezes mid-air. The shortness of breath should concern me, but staying alive isn’t my biggest priority right now.
I can just not breathe for a few minutes, right?
I wasn’t aware of how dangerously my body was shivering from the harsh cold until it came to a soothing halt from a single glance at this man. The man I can’t take my eyes for some reason.
Is he an incubus? Is it a full moon night? Am I being tricked by the most handsome man of his kind?
I’m not sure why his hypnotic eyes reel me in with this unknown familiarity when I'm sure I’ve never seen him before. How my guard crumbles with an innocent tilt of his head is unbelievably terrifying.
Before I completely drown in those enchanting emerald eyes, I reluctantly tear my eyes away from his.
Terrible idea .
If I was drowning before, consider me dead because what the fuck is this man made of.
Loose chestnut curls sway in the wind, making a strand lazily drop on his forehead. It's like someone carved the shape of his jaw that my fingers are itching to run along.
Smooth ivory skin glowing in the moonlight has me in a trance. My brain malfunctions and a quiet ringing starts in my head when my eyes land on his perfectly sculpted plump lips, a shade of pink—
Snap out of it, Nevaeh! He could be the enemy.
As if I wouldn’t let him stab me just to get him closer.
Why the fuck did I just think that?!
The unashamed staring between me and the perfectly sculpted Angel of a man is broken when I see the other man step closer from the corner of my eye.
Shifting my attention along with the direction of my spear, I point it at the man who broke my trance and fix my deadliest glare on him.
The warrior instantly raises his hands in the air, indicating he isn’t a threat. “It’s not polite to threaten people who just saved your ass, Princess.” The man makes a disapproving sound with his tongue.
Dropping to the ground, he gets comfortable with his legs crossed. I'm itching to ask how he's sitting with those layers of solid armor on him but refrain.
These people are doing something to my head.
When he dusts his shoulder, I notice how his armor is overflowing with colorful stickers. His whole ensemble resembles a children’s drawing book, and his smile feels borderline creepy. I admit the smiling idiot is cute, except for how he keeps gawking at me like I’ll start pooping rainbows any minute.
The recurve bow on Angel's back is an ancient weapon I’m familiar with, but the whip the other young man has tossed on the ground—albeit similar—isn’t what the Horseman of Famine wields .
The markings on the weapon are different.
Having enough of them staring at me while my brain spirals with unanswered questions, I ask, “Who are you two idiots, and what are you doing here?”
“Introduction sprinkled with insults? You’re not very welcoming, Princess.”
Raising my spear higher, I aim for his head.
“How about I stab you as a welcome present, princess ?”
“And that’s my cue to shut up. Anxo, your turn.”
The cartoon drags himself backward until Anxo is on the tip of my spear.
The prettier one, the one I’m going to continue calling Angel because of how dreamy he looks, mumbles something under his breath. With a nod, he tries to come closer, but I’m not taking any chances.
“Come any closer and they’ll have to pick your pieces off the ground.”
Angel's jaw visibly ticks at my warning. I wait for him to lash out, instead, he turns to his friend and whispers as if I can’t hear him. “Fates, she is frightening.”
“Tell me about it. And Dean said his daughter was the sweetest girl ever.”
“Well, that was a lie.”
‘I killed your family. I held his beating heart in my hand and squeezed until it stopped.’
I shove her dreaded voice to the back of my head and focus on the fact that they mentioned Papa. I’m not stuck in her dungeon, so I’ll be dammed if I let her voice in my head control me any longer.
Lowering my spear as a sign of truce, I give them an opportunity to explain.
“How do you know my father?”
“I’ll explain everything, but we need to leave. Now.”
Angel stops short in his approach when my Divine seeps out of me sensing my impatience. A fog of dull gold circles me before it crawls to him. I expect my essence to be eager to attack, but it just floats around him dumbly.
This is when my Divine decides to act tame?!
“Talk.”
“Definitely his daughter.” Angel man mutters in annoyance, but once again calms down faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. What a strange guy.
I’ve never met a man other than Papa and Harvey who didn’t take their anger out on me.
I quickly retract my struggling Divine before they can discover my strength is a bluff. I hate to admit it, but I need their help which means I have to play nice.
“Let's make a deal. If you can prove you are my father's allies, I promise not to kill you both.”
I make the offer so they will finally get to the fucking point, but their lack of regard for their own safety and their trust in me that I won’t follow through is honestly astonishing.
The man, hidden behind Angel scoffs, “I’m not sure you are capable of anything like that right now.”
“You want to try me, sticker boy?”
When the fog thickens, feeling the sting of my insult, and reaches for him faster, the manchild scurries back.
“I’m going to let it slide, but the next time you insult my stickers, I won’t be as lenient.” He points a finger at me. At me .
Fates, at this rate one of us will be dead before these idiots get to the point. I’m about to get up and leave, which will be a pain in the ass when Angel’s hand in front of my face stops me.
My brows furrow as I narrow my eyes at his hand. What does he want me to do with his open palm? I’m not a fucking palm reader, my man.
Before I can open my mouth to rip into him, he turns his hand around, and my eyes immediately find the white crystal on his index finger.
The ring .
Exactly like Papa’s.
A moon-white crystal has thin strings of gold floating inside resembling trapped rays of sunlight. A gold band at the base shaped like veins crossing and climbing upon one another with delicate leaves following the curve of his finger.
Magnificent .
This ring and the marked weapon on his back, the one that's only gifted to a Horseman on their coronation tells me all I need to know. I had an inkling before, but now the truth is staring me right in the face.
So was all of it a lie? Did Visha lie about everything or just the attack? What else was she lying about? Is Papa alive? And my mate? Was that a lie, too? A clever scheme to break my soul?
My lack of response or reaction stumps Angel. Thinking I’m probably too dense to figure it out, he hastily removes the armor from his left shoulder to expose the markings engraved on his skin.
The markings of A Horseman of the Apocalypse.
Despite being the firstborn or pure blood, the three sisters of Fate have on occasion denied an heir by not blessing them with these enchanted markings. It's said only a true Horseman can bear the markings and everything that comes with that power.
The markings are equivalent to tattoos for humans, only we don’t get to choose them.
These markings on Angel’s shoulder prove who he is. Every design and line of writing tells me exactly who he was meant to be in bold, proud markings.
“Horseman of Conquer.”
The moment my recognition registers, they all but jump in excitement before remembering we are still in enemy territory, so the celebration will have to wait.
The ache in my heart that I couldn’t shake for years, is suddenly bearable. I don’t know if Papa is okay, but seeing my fellow Horsemen standing before me gives birth to a new hope.
“And I’m the Prince of Famine if it wasn't clear.”
When the Prince bows his head, I mirror the action assuming it’s a new custom, only for both men to erupt in snickers. What w eirdos .
“It’s good to finally meet you, Princess Nevaeh.” Angel smiles at me.
It’s strange hearing my name out loud. Harvey was the only one who called me by my name, so after his escape, I got into the habit of using my name when I talked to myself so wouldn’t forget another important part of myself.
The Horsemen kingdoms don't have Kings since after the coronation, one becomes a Horseman of the apocalypse, and their partner, the Queen.
The king is chosen for a purpose greater than running a kingdom, so it’s normal for the Queen to be responsible for the welfare and prosperity of the kingdom. She’s the one running things, while the King/Horseman focuses on serving The Fates.
There’s never been a female Horseman in our history, so I’m unclear on how things would look like if by some miracle my unstable ass was chosen for the throne.
“Let's move before more of those things show up.”
Angel offers me a hand, but the action is so sudden and foreign that my instincts process it as a threat and I flinch violently.
My eyes squeeze shut as I wait for the blow. Forcing a breath, I hold still. Logic is screaming at me that it won’t happen, but old habits die hard.
Come on, Nevaeh, don’t act bat shit crazy on your first meeting with important people.
Peeling my eyes open, I find one hand clutching the kid in blind protection and the other in front of my face.
Lifting my head, I’m shocked to find Angel right before me. The concern on his face makes me re-evaluate how hard I hit my head last night.
Is he worried about me?
I scoff at that silly thought. That’s impossible. No one is ever worried about me. He probably thought I would lose it and accidentally kill him or something.
With my sanity temporarily pieced back together, I nod casually as if I didn’t just flip my shit over him offering me help. His eyes don't hide his concern, but Angel doesn’t comment on it.
This time, when he reaches for me, it’s more tentative.
My conscience screams it’s a bad idea, but since I have a faulty brain, I ignore the suggestion and gingerly place my palm on his. The rush of heat from the touch has me clutching his hand, not wanting to let go of the only source of warmth I’ve felt in years.
Is he too hot, or am I too cold?
Blowing a shaky breath, I take his help to lift myself, when a sharp pain shooting through my leg makes me fall back, erasing the little distance I managed.
Shit that hurt.
I steel myself to avoid highlighting the pain on my face, but I don’t think I do a good job. Now Angel looks more worried. Even the other guy— whose name I should've ask ed —cautiously asks how he can help.
Angel shifts his gaze back to my face after analyzing my knee with the bone still sticking out. He silently asks if I want to try again, but I shake my head vigorously, not wanting to feel that again.
I can’t stand, and we don’t have much time. What if they leave me here? I need to convince them to take monkey, at least.
“Can you pass the kid to Seiji? He can carry the kid while I help you. Is that okay?” Angel asks gently.
If I wasn’t in the middle of a forest and injured, I probably would’ve dozed off by how soothing Angel's voice is.
Repeating the offer in my head, I realize there’s no other way. The kid is still unconscious, so I begrudgingly agree, and let Seiji take the boy from me.
I have to bite my tongue to stop the onslaught of threats I have lined up as the boy is taken from me.
Stop it, Nevaeh. He is helping.
Be grateful they are not leaving you here to die .
When monkey stirs a bit, I'm ready to take him back but Seiji bounces a little while rubbing his back.
And just like that, my boy is quiet again.
“If he wakes up, hand him over to me immediately. He freaks out if anyone other than me comes near him,” I warn Seiji.
“Noted.”
For the first time since we met— which was only ten minutes ago —Seiji's face shows nothing but sincerity. The teasing smile he had plastered on until now is nowhere to be seen.
Angel waits until I’m sure the kid is fine before offering help again. I’m dreading this next step. I almost passed out last time. I brace myself for the pain when suddenly a pair of arms snakes under my thighs and back and lifts me off the ground.
What the—
Unannounced physical contact is a trigger.
At least it has always been until now.
I wait for the panic to consume me, for my fight response to kick in, but all I feel is the sheer amount of heat emanating from this man. The comfort of his warmth and the zero fear of our proximity stuns me into silence.
I can’t think of a single protest.
What kind of witchcraft is this?!
His hold on me is strong, not enough to hurt me, but enough to keep me firmly in place. I’m so dumbfounded I don’t even notice how my treacherous arms are looped around his neck.
I grip him tighter when I peer down. Falling from his height would leave more than a few bruises.
How fucking tall is this guy?
“Relax, I won’t drop you. I promise. I couldn’t just watch you in pain and do nothing about it.”
His voice is so comforting. I don’t trust it.
I don’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth, but that is rude to say to a man carrying me, so I keep my mouth shut.
“The kid— ”
“Still unconscious. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”
Should I believe Angel? For all I know, he could be faking the niceness and waiting for the right time to attack.
A million thoughts running in my head speed up the process of my body beginning to shut down.
I can’t drop my guard when I don’t even know where they are taking me. What if I blackout, and they take away my little boy? What if they drop me back at the witch’s doorstep? I would rather hammer nails into my eyes than go back.
In the end, my exhaustion wins over my anxiety.
My head drops on his shoulder when it gets too heavy to hold up. I’ll rest my eyes for a minute, and then I will focus on the route we’re walking in case I have to escape them later.
Anxo’s chest vibrates as he says something to Seiji, and I burrow my face into the crook of his neck. My need for warmth overrides my sense of shame.
“Sleepy?” The way my body goes from stiff as a board to limp must give Angel his answer.
“Take a nap. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I barely register the quiet whisper. I know I should stay awake because sleeping will only end in another episode, but right now... his arms are providing me a sense of safety I haven’t felt in a long time.
Cocooned in his arms, I let myself drift off.
This warmth will disappear tomorrow, and I’ll be alone and cold again. So, for tonight, I will allow myself to indulge in the fantasy of having someone to rely on.