Chapter Six #2
She said, “I’m starting my car now. But, Marlow Whatever-the-Fuck-You-Are, explain what we saw in our divination.
Why were my guides screaming at me to drive to the middle of downtown?
Why did the Infernal Court tell Pris to get her ass over there?
Neither of us has had clearer, louder readings in the history of forever.
My cards, my oracle deck, my meditation was basically a lecture.
” She punctuated the word with more sass than I knew how to handle. “Explain yourself.”
Oh.
“I don’t know where to start,” I said honestly.
Her car purred to life. Moments later, houses blurred in the small slices of windows I could barely see beyond the face that took up the majority of the screen. “Begin with your deities. Who do you work with?”
I bit my lip. I rubbed my arms against the church’s dilapidated chill. “Hell, I guess? And a little Heaven? A couple of the Greeks…a few Nordes…the Phoenicians, now…”
She kept her eyes on the road as she spun the wheel, merging onto whatever interstate would take her to our crumbling chapel. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop. Those are conflicting pantheons. Who is your deity?”
“The Prince of Hell,” I said, somewhat uncertainly.
She made a face. “Which court?”
I shook my head.
“The Infernal Divine? The Draconian Court? The—”
“Oh, um.” I stepped into the shadows, leaning against the interior wall as my imposter syndrome grew.
“Xuan, I’m going to be honest with you: I have no idea.
I barely knew there were other courts until the Prince told me.
I’m not a witch. I didn’t even believe these things existed until they showed up.
But…” I chewed on my lip. “I don’t know a lot about wards, but I don’t think I should say much more over the phone.
Can you and this Priscilla person get here as soon as possible?
And…how are your…what are they called? When you can see things? ”
“Clairabilities.” Xuan frowned, disapproval heavy on her face.
“I see and hear everything. I always have, but…maybe that part of the story doesn’t matter now. I have a sigil for true sight that I’ve given a few of my friends.”
“Sorry, hang on,” she said, cutting me off. “There’s something on my windshield. It’s a bug.”
I waited patiently for her to clear the insect, then heard a thump over the receiver. Then another, then another.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I heard Xuan’s brakes screech. “I think—”
The thumping was so loud now that I could scarcely hear her over it.
“I think they’re locusts?! What the hell?!”
I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone had heard what Xuan had just said.
A six-foot-something silhouette appeared in the doorway between the annex and the sanctuary. Beige and white leathers barely distinguished themselves against the shadows.
“Heaven’s mad, all right,” Silas muttered.
I looked back at the screen. “Those might be my fault…can you see enough to drive?”
“What do you mean, your fault?! You sent a goddamn plague? Explain yourself!”
I winced. “I’m trying. I’m not sure how you feel about deconsecrated churches, but…the sooner you’re here, the sooner you’ll be safe.”
“Safe from who!” she shrieked.
I looked at Silas. “Are they in danger?”
He sighed. “Not yet. But they’re about to be.”
“One of the plagues just attacked her. How can you say that she’s not already a target?” I demanded.
“This sign from Heaven wasn’t attacking her,” Silas said. “It was threatening you. The phone was an open channel, and you were staring into it. That said: The closer people get to you, the more in danger they’ll be in.”
I covered the receiver, staring at him as I asked, “Is it immoral for me to include them?”
His voice was distant somehow, as if he were a ghost of himself, as he answered, “Wars need soldiers, and soldiers mean sacrifice.”
“That doesn’t feel right,” I said.
“What’s not right is losing before we even get a chance to fight. We win our battles one man at a time, knowing they might be injured.”
It was the baffling sort of riddle-speak that left me slack-jawed. He pushed away from the doorframe, slumping back to the sanctuary before I could ask any clarifying questions.
Xuan was still staring at me expectantly from the other end of the screen.
“Just get over here,” I urged. “I don’t think I can say everything that needs to be said over the phone. I promise, you’ll be safer once you get here. I don’t know who you work with, but Priscilla and her pals shouldn’t have any trouble entering. It’s demon-friendly.”
“Her pals?” Xuan repeated incredulously before muttering once again, “Who the fuck are you?” I didn’t miss the crescendo as the vehicle accelerated. The steady thumping of locusts against the windshield continued. She was on edge in more ways than one.
“We need a witch. We need witches. We need heavy-hitters, and it sounds like someone else we’re about to recruit is a bona fide man-hater, so I’m glad neither of you is a cishet man. Get here as soon as possible. And, Xuan?”
She looked away from the road just enough to cast me a guarded glance.
“Do you drink tequila?”
***
I cracked open the arched, wooden doors and waited for them to cross the deconsecrated threshold.
Xuan and Priscilla arrived ten minutes apart from one another, but they’d waited in their respective vehicles so they could approach together.
Green hair and hippie clothes matched the pace of black hair and a black dress as they mounted the steps toward the church.
“Welcome to our—” I wasn’t permitted to complete my greeting, cut short by the newcomers’ sudden scream. Xuan and Priscilla were frozen to the landing, Xuan clutching her chest as she gaped at me.
Priscilla—at least, I assumed that was whom she’d brought—approached me and touched the center of my forehead. She turned to Xuan. “I’m guessing you also saw—”
“Her eyes gouged out with blood streaming down her face? Especially after the locusts…”
Oh, good. I gritted my teeth, picturing the horror-movie mutilation that had set them on edge.
“You’ve been marked,” Priscilla said.
I forced the door open the rest of the way.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said at last, forcing them to stop what they were doing and shake my hand. “My name is Marlow, and I’m, well…I’m the antichrist.”
“That’ll do it,” Priscilla said, unbothered. She moved past me to make herself comfortable in what remained of the rundown sanctuary.
“Oh, so Heaven has it out for you,” Xuan said, patting me on the shoulder as she moved past.
Whatever they said, I hoped the vision was a one-time thing. I followed them into the church.
With the help of our witches, our little army was nearly complete.
I was struck with a curious thought, almost like watching a Renaissance painting unfold as I admired the bizarre amalgamation amidst the pews, the pulpit, the religious iconography, the graffiti, the cracks, the rubble.
I wondered how many reactions existed in the world.
We’d covered shock, anger, denial, and awe over the past few hours.
Nia and Kirby had welcomed them immediately.
Resentment, angst, and hostility burbled between Silas and Azrames despite their well-placed jokes and thinly tethered allyship.
Xuan and Priscilla added an entirely new dynamic.
I giggled at the display of flustered admiration and giddiness from Xuan and the respectful, cautious solemnity from Priscilla.
Watching how the angel and demon reacted to the witches, however, was a gift in and of itself.
As I watched the softened affection on Azrames’s face, I began to wonder if he saw witches the same way I might see a puppy.
He was instantly warm toward them, doing what he could to make them comfortable.
He answered questions, offered drinks that were not his to offer, and kept his broad, strong shoulders rolled forward with the same compassionate, protective stance I recognized in myself whenever I hunched over a particularly cute animal.
Silas, on the other hand, was doing his best to be very brave.
I wasn’t sure what power witches had over angels, but from the child-encountering-a-tarantula energy emanating from him, I imagined he’d had better days.
Ever the magnanimous host, Nia went out of her way to cater to the newcomers’ needs.
“Hey, babe,” I said, sliding between Nia and the box of booze. “Let someone else do that. You can sit back and relax.”
“Trust me,” Nia said through a tightly controlled smile, “I’m barely holding it together. You introduced me to a world of nonsense creatures and made me leave my husband behind. At least give me something to do with my hands.”
Fair enough.
I left them to the box of booze, appreciating how they were able to bond despite the extreme circumstances.
Kirby was already in love, which shocked none of us.
I couldn’t verify the status of their existing polycule, but I gathered that they were ready to risk it all to add a high-powered, witchy femme to the diagram.
Maybe if Priscilla returned their affection, they’d form a boat-and-barnacle relationship and I wouldn’t have to worry about Kirby’s safety.
Priscilla’s Spider Queen name had painted a rather intimidating picture.
I’d expected a waifish, ancient, bony woman in black, flowing robes.
Instead, I’d been greeted with a warm hug and white-toothed smile.
Priscilla Weber, a curvaceous woman in her mid-thirties, did wear black, but that was roughly where the expected visual ended.
She had curly brown hair, light brown skin, and tipped her pastel, cat-eye glasses as she winked at me and marched through the sanctuary.
“So, Heaven wants you dead,” Xuan said
“And you’re playing host to demons,” Priscilla added.
“At least one at the moment,” I confirmed, gesturing widely to Azrames. “And you’re…the Spider Queen?” I asked.