Chapter 16 #2
“Shame.” The newcomer rested a heavy hand on the hilt of his sword.
He feigned a protruding lower lip in the briefest show of performative sympathy.
“His first day on the job, too. You think after a millennium of training, you’d know better than to leave yourself open to so many points of vulnerability. ”
I took one step back, claws still extended, teeth bared.
A shrug. “Oh well. Eliminate the weakest links in the chain.”
The snarl sat in my throat, an unrelenting rumble.
He looked me up and down, eyes sleepy, as if he found the interaction tedious. “You’re outnumbered, Your…Highness.”
My ear twitched with the sound of a new set of footsteps. The big cat’s body was mighty, but its muscular neck prohibited a quick glance over my shoulder. I twisted to see two men emerge from either side of my human’s home, all dressed in pale neutrals, all armed to the teeth.
“Come on. Step out of that tiger. Let’s have a talk. Man to…well…whatever we are.”
Even with my shapeshifting abilities, I didn’t think I could take three of them at once. The first takedown had been fresh blood to chum the waters. Between their swords and untested skills, my best bet, at least for the moment, was negotiation.
The terracotta roofs slowly populated with shadow as my legion congregated.
Dozens became hundreds, became a darkened sea, two thousand deep.
They stacked, piling, arcing overhead until they blotted out the sun.
Perhaps they didn’t exist in corporeal form, but they were no more smoke than I was tiger.
I could change my being, as could my fragments.
I liked our odds.
Another step back, and I shifted onto two legs, black on black, and hair as snowy as the newcomers’ rich glints of sand.
From over my shoulder, one of the others called, “We’re not here to kill you, for better or for worse.”
The last scoffed. “Your lucky day. Don’t fuck it up.”
I was no longer snarling. I had a legion, the patience of a hundred lifetimes, and the nonchalance of a god-killer. They had…sparkles.
I pointed to the third speaker. “I’m going to call you Lucky.
” Rotating slightly, I jabbed my index finger toward the one in the center, announcing to the second speaker, “BW. Better or worse. It’s cute.
I bet it’ll catch on.” Then, tapping my chin, I sized up the one posturing as their leader.
The vanity required to build structured shapeware around your bulging muscles really was something.
“And you, rippling pectorals, will henceforth be known as Tits. You’ve got a nice rack. ”
Lucky chuckled. BW hissed at his brother in arms. The leader’s boredom evaporated. Tits lit up, as if truly enjoying the shift in energy.
He planted a foot over his fallen comrade. I matched him step for step as he moved, keeping the space between us equidistant.
“My friend here wasn’t lying. Today’s little meet and greet isn’t an attack. Consider this…a courtesy.”
We’d paced until Tits was poised between Lucky and BW. I wanted to be comforted that I’d corralled my enemies into one corner, but for all I knew they had a new set of armed meatheads wrapped in leather ready to storm in from the market behind me.
I was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, I had thousands of other-worldly loyalists ready to throw themselves on a sword for me, and should I need to live to fight another day, I could turn into a bird and dart from the scene before they’d even comprehended the unexpected flutter of wings.
I didn’t recognize the entities as native to Byzantium. They were too polished to be cryptids. Too confident to be fae. Too informal to be gods. I faced soldiers, to be sure, but the swords, the leathers, the hauntingly familiar perfume…
The memory connected to the smell hit me all at once.
My father’s old clothes.
His leathers, the white feathers he’d plucked from the ground, the weapon he’d encased in his office.
He spoke seldom of his past life, but the visual reminder strummed at my heart strings as I watched him move through the realm.
He was kind, self-possessed, powerful, respected.
He was a dreamer. A visionary. But the display reminded me: he hadn’t left from hate, or corruption, or anger.
He’d been cast out, rejected by his King, abandoned by his people.
I was certain some vestige of him still held a candle of that love, or the armor, the feathers, the reminders of a life he would never have back, would have been cast into the fire long ago.
Angels.
I slipped one foot behind, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet. “Ah, Tits, you came all the way down from Heaven to pay your respects? A letter would have done just fine.”
Lucky seemed to find me funny, which I appreciated. What was a comedian without his audience? BW shot him another scathing look, but Tits had no idea as to the disorganization in his ranks.
There it was.
Over the gore of spiced angel blood, stronger than the food stalls, more powerful than the old scents of Byzantium and the new odors of Constantinople combined. Clean air, higher than the mountain tops. Her soul’s shimmer had moved away from the topmost window, but she was in there. I knew it.
I clapped my hands, then rubbed them together in parting. “Well, Gents, I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, but why bother with the lie? Now, I have business in the city, and unless you wish to be mauled by a tiger, I’m going to need the three of you to step aside.”
It was BW’s time to laugh, though the drip of sarcasm at every forced note added a piece to a puzzle.
Heaven had found my human. Three angels were here. They claimed to be here for a courtesy. BW found the idea of me walking toward the house amusing…why?
Unless…
My self-assuredness fractured. My hands went limp at my side.
Tits cracked into a self-congratulating grin the moment my face drooped. The men behind him exchanged meaningless, performatively masculine gibberish. I hated their delight in my suffering.
I looked up at the interlocking wire of scribbled arms and legs of my legion. The alley darkened with their shadow. I gave them a slow, single, shake of the head. “No.”
I understood now why Tits had moved back with his men. I was in no place to ask favors, but I was so close. She was right there. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was downright diabolical.
Tits exhaled. “I’m afraid so. Hell has a weak spot. And Heaven wants you to know that you’ve shown your hand. Your human?” His laugh wasn’t even cruel this time. A quiet huff, no performance, no need for frills. “Our human.”
My eyes unfocused. She was within spitting distance. I could have wrapped my arms around her. I could have helped her, guarded her, loved her, begged her to see me. But she was a snow hare trapped behind a fence.
“Can I touch it?” I asked.
He hadn’t been expecting this. Perhaps they didn’t realize how quickly I’d put it together.
Lucky spoke for the retinue. “I think it’d be easier for you if you did.”
The others made a habit of chastising him, but he was unruffled by their judgment. He wasn’t here for their approval. It wasn’t very angel of him.
I took a few careful steps forward before lifting my fingertips.
Each step grew smaller, as I closed the space between myself and the host of heavenly soldiers.
I was less than an arm’s length away when my fingertips hit the shock of bottled lightning.
Pale tendrils spread from my gentle touch, spreading and disappearing like clear ice cracking and filling, as the snaking, electric lines revealed the dome surrounding her house.
Tits strode forward, inches from the unseen protective layer. He could easily reach through and grab me, unaffected by its voltage. I’d have to learn their real names to see if this handful of angels could put up a good fight, even if they couldn’t kill a god, or if I was facing archangels.
My legion had uncoiled, but remained on the roofs around us, as if prepared for how desperately I wanted to hold the broken parts of myself together.
She was right there.
Right there.
My legion, trying desperately to stop me, plucked sharper memories from the muffled remnants of disregarded advice.
Those who had departed Hell without signing the treaty had put their money on a champion horse.
They’d scampered off to Heaven, ready to suck the cocks of whoever would be the most powerful.
“She’s not at the market today,” I said slowly, “because it’s the Sabbath. She and her family…”
“She’s ours,” BW was quick to interject.
“The prayers are hers,” Lucky said. “She, specifically, is praying against all who stand against her God.”
In the twisted tangle of paths laid out before me, how hadn’t I considered the single, most obvious obstacle between myself, my human, and the prophecy?
It wasn’t the interference of meddling gods.
It wasn’t their fae, their agendas, their vendetta against my vow for bloodlust, nor their shortsightedness, as we decided how to handle the viral pandemic that was Christianity and its spiritual contagion.
“You could just kill her.” I heard the deadpan words as if they happened somewhere beyond myself.
“If she dies, we get rid of the immediate problem. What if she’s reborn somewhere that hasn’t been exposed to our King’s message?
We kill her, and we roll the dice. You may get your shot at her, after all.
” The piece of information Lucky volunteered might have been comforting under other circumstances, but here? Now?
She wouldn’t be harmed.
No torture, no puppeteering, no…anything.
Tits took two long steps toward me, abandoning the safety of his shield, forcing me backward toward the dead soldier.
“I could kill you today, you know,” he said.
He dropped his voice so only I could hear.
“It would be so easy. Hell’s Prince gone”—snap—“just like that. But Hell would retaliate, of course. We’d win.
It’s been predestined. But who would we lose in the process?
See…” He puffed his chest. I stood my ground this time, eye to eye, chin to chin, as he leaned as close as he dared.
“We’ve been racking up victories before the world even knew we were in the fight.
And this prize piece you’ve been hiding up your sleeve?
We really appreciate you exposing the wildcard.
We can’t tell you what it means that you gave us everything we needed to win without spilling a single drop of angelic blood. ”
I kicked the body behind me, shoving it with my heel, but didn’t break eye contact.
“A single drop of important blood, anyway. See, Prince, you were born in Hell. You don’t share memories of The Fall, of the Watchers, of our brothers who once knew what it was like to be on the winning team.
You’ve served your kingdom, you’ve loved your people, and I’m sure you will try your hardest.”
He stretched his sausage fingers toward me as if to pat my head. I scowled, swerving out of the space before he could touch me.
“Your father kept you from the real enemy for as long as he could. Either that, or you weren’t important enough to register on our hit list before now.
Hell’s Fraudulent King probably knew what it would do to you when you realized: you’re outmatched.
There’s no triumph for you. Not when you go toe to toe with Heaven. ”
He punctuated the point with a final bolt through the cage that separated us.
His cronies walked up to the edge of the dome but remained on the safe side.
BW’s forced smirk was more annoying than if he had been truly amused. “Finally, you’re grown enough to play with the big boys.”
Satisfied with their taunting last words, it seemed our interaction had come to an end.
Tits turned to leave with BW close on his heel.
Lucky loitered just long enough to say, “You didn’t want her to be in the prophecy either, right? This is her best-case scenario. If you love her, maybe you’ll let yourself see that.”
A high-pitched whistle bounced off the clay walls. Tits barked his command as they departed.
“Hey! You coming or what?”
Lucky meant to convey something with the weight of his last look, but I couldn’t fathom that there was anything he could say or do that would make this situation better or worse.
She was alive.
She was safe.
And for as long as her family worshipped our nemesis and prayed over their home, she’d be close enough for me to touch, while being a lifetime away.
I experienced a new kind of loss as I watched the three men disappear.
I settled onto the clay shards and stared up at the window, hoping for a glimpse at who she was in this life, a sense for her smile, her health, if she was happy. I sat for a day and a night, but she did not come to the window.
What if this was it? What if, in this cycle, her faith carried her to an afterlife in Heaven? What if our story was over before I’d gotten the chance to say goodbye?
The clear sky was pink with morning light. The angels did not return, nor had I moved, threatening the boundary they’d set.
I detached from the hope I’d felt in Hell’s stadium, surrounded by almighty beings willing to press their oaths into our treaties.
My heart hollowed, its beats echoing in a tinny, absent way as I stared.
I could rally the pantheons.
I could make history with unforetold treaties.
I could be one half of a legend that belonged to the two of us alone.
I could get the support of my kingdom, of the gods, of the world.
And it still might not be enough.