Chapter Three #2
“That bad?” Nia called uncertainly from the couch. Worry used a generous brush as it painted itself from her eyes to her mouth. She retreated slightly into the all-consuming cushions.
Kirby held up one finger from the kitchen, where they’d begun guzzling an uncorked bottle of red wine.
I bit my lip in an attempt to keep my expression neutral at the unabashed gulping sounds of sheer panic as they dealt with the horned grayscale god on the couch.
It seemed like an unkind time to tell them that I had it on good authority that he was a sadistic hellhound in bed…
unless I wanted to see Kirby’s brain explode.
It took a veritable effort to tear my eyes from the chaos unraveling in the kitchen, but I forced my attention back to Nia. I held up my marker but paused before making contact with her skin. “You said Darius is working from home today?”
She bit her lip. Aside from knocking herself unconscious from shock, which was more or less Silas’s fault, she’d been taking everything in stride.
“He’s banished to the basement. I told him we’re going through an intense friend-group thing that he couldn’t understand, and he was more than willing to take the day to binge whatever video game it is you two like to jabber about.
You just said we had to be in the home, right?
So, it doesn’t matter what floor he’s on? ”
I looked up at Az. “The whole house is protected, right?”
“Caliban put up the wards himself,” Azrames confirmed. He’d dropped his hand, watching Kirby with an amused expression while they pointedly avoided his gaze. “You know,” he called to Kirby, “it’s polite to offer guests a glass.”
Kirby planted their feet in the kitchen, flipping their middle finger as they finished the bottle with a final gulp.
“I like them.” Az grinned.
They reentered the living room with an unopened bottle of wine and a handful of accompanying glasses. They plopped their spoils down on the coffee table and gestured broadly. “Help yourself, make-believe creatures.”
Azrames’s smile broadened, teeth flashing in genuine glee. Kirby may have settled down had it not been for the vampiric glint in his canines, sending them on their heels as they returned to the kitchen for whatever else Nia had stashed in the cupboards.
“Now or never,” I said to Nia.
She looked at Silas, then at me. “This new guy had better have tentacles, horns, two heads, and three dicks for the reaction Kirbs is giving.”
I tilted my head to Azrames and raised a brow.
“One cock, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically, “though I do have horns.”
He successfully uncorked the wine with his teeth and poured glasses, first for Nia and I, then for himself, then for Silas. Nia kept her expression completely blank as the wine bottle presumably levitated, a full glass sliding toward her with hospitable graciousness.
I pouted sympathetically at Nia. “Only the horns, it seems. Though now you have wine as a consolation prize. Do you want to take a sip, or do we have to worry about you passing out again?”
“Sparkles surprised me!” Nia said, shooting a defensive glare toward Silas, who had no rebuttal.
A circle, an arrow, an eye, and a flame later, Nia took full advantage of her glass of wine. This time, when Azrames extended his hand, she took it.
“Thank you for inviting me in,” he said.
She gulped. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
It was a polite, if bizarre, exchange.
I set down the Sharpie and gestured for Kirby to take a seat.
With the four of them gathered on the couch, I snatched my glass of wine and began to tell my friends how they’d met a Nordic forest deity, how I’d visited numerous realms, how I’d fallen into cycles of love with the Prince of Hell, and how we’d gotten ourselves into a centuries-overdue battle with the King of Heaven.
“And this Caliban,” Nia said carefully. “This is who Fauna mentioned? The Cal you’re seeing? Will he…be back? Will he be here?”
I sipped on the air around me, refusing to exhale as I looked to Azrames for an answer.
“My guess is that he’s been in physical pain from the moment he left,” Az said. “I know a thing or two about love. He would burn the earth, the realms, everyone, and everything in it down for her. He’s got me looking out for you until he can claw his way back.”
The deepest parts of me clenched at the testament to our love.
“That’s it,” Nia said definitively, “I’m leaving Darius.”
It was meant as a joke, but I couldn’t help the quiet, high-pitched ringing that resonated through me.
Whether it was Fauna explaining cycles of Caliban choosing me time and time again, or Azrames describing the fire he’d bring upon the world for me, it was hard to see straight when forced to fathom a love like that.
I was almost certain I didn’t deserve it.
Silas hadn’t touched his wine. He sat stiffly on the couch throughout the duration of my story, save for my retelling of his battle with the estries. I spared no details when I spoke of how valiantly he’d fought, and how a Valkyrie had deemed him worthy to live.
The curious pain in his expression didn’t dissipate, even after I finished the story.
“What’s wrong, Sparkles?” Azrames asked, using Nia’s nickname as he wagged the cabernet. “Angels don’t like offerings?”
Silas respectfully declined.
Azrames finished his first glass and topped mine off. When no one else accepted his bid for the bottle, he drained it into his glass.
“Marmar has left out the best part,” he said, raising his glass.
“Oh, yes,” I sighed, looking at my friends.
Fire and incense emanated from Azrames, as they always did.
The scent of his powerful confidence battled the frankincense and insecurity of the angel who’d leapt from Heaven with no kingdom, no people, and nowhere to fall.
Somewhere in the midst of it was Nia’s peppermint candle, the clean scent of Kirby’s soap, and the existential sigh of life-changing knowledge resting on my shoulders as I looked at my friends.
I slouched with anticlimactic dissatisfaction as I said, “I forgot to tell you: I’m the antichrist.”
It was as if my words were a spell.
The sunny daylight muted as clouds rolled in.
The first gust of wind was ominous. The second was downright terrifying.
Darkness pressed against the window as if the sudden nightfall were trying to get in.
The shadows in the room stretched unnaturally long, twisting and winding further than the light allowed.
The candles flickered, not like they might with a draft, but as though the fire was breathing.
Beside me, Kirby let out a nervous laugh. “Okay…what the hell is that?”
Nia’s hands were clenched around the couch cushion so hard, her knuckles went white. Azrames was motionless, wineglass frozen halfway to his lips, eyes fixed on the sky outside.
Silas had stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. His shoulders tensed, his fingers flexed like they wanted a weapon.
My ears rang. The air turned to ice in my lungs. My breathing hitched.
“Azrames?” My voice squeaked.
He didn’t answer. He was staring at Silas.
The window howled. No—screamed. The windows rattled, floorboards groaned, and something outside—something massive—was moving.
The wineglass shattered in Azrames’s hand. Red wine drenched him like blood.
Kirby yelped at the shards of glass, shouting, “Okay, what the fuck is happening?”
Silas moved at last. He stood slowly, deliberately, and headed for the window. The sound of his exhale was lost beneath the wind as he said, “They’re here.”
I didn’t have time to ask who. I knew who.
The front door bowed inward. The walls shook. And then—
The lights went out.