Chapter 49
EXCERPTS FROM MALAM
The following passage is one I have written based on a summary of notes provided to me by Malam.
Please indulge me for any inaccuracies, and know they are an artist’s liberties.
Malam would want this to be as factual as possible.
I would have avoided sharing this entirely, but it provides important context to the story, which I wanted you, dear reader, to have.
The hour is late, and it is dark as I materialize in a small alcove outside the mansion that the band owns. As I regain my footing, I momentarily struggle to maintain my composure. I can feel her pain from here, I’m dizzy with it.
Being around her the day prior was agony.
The pain alone would have been bad enough, but I could smell blood and antiseptic so strongly that I’m confident she’s covered in wounds.
Of course, the fucking angels believe themselves to be “civilized” and abstained from marking her extremities to avoid visible scarring.
Currently, it means she can attempt to hide her injuries from the others.
That is an action I am trying not to have an opinion about.
It doesn’t even surprise me that the angels beat her on top of whatever other wounds she has.
I could taste the lie on her when she said she had been in a fight.
The broken nose and fingers were courtesy of the angels.
My only comfort is that she was giving them hell if they varied from their tenets, since, with angels, those are the strength of granite.
I rest my forehead against the front door before I enter, taking a moment to breathe and try to compose myself. I need to be at my best for this, or rather, my people need me to be at my best for this.
I finally enter and make my way to the lower level, where the coven is getting set up. They are preparing for my instruction in the practice of group magic. It has been more than a fortnight since we last met, and we need to get back on track.
Reem glances at me as I enter the room and gives me a single nod before going back to his work. He is preparing the magic circle in the middle of the stone floor that is needed for coven work.
Lent is here as well, paging through a book.
I suspect he’s looking for the passages we’ve been working through.
Now that Chaosta is back, hopefully we will begin to make more progress again.
Growling to myself, I think again about how much more progress we could be making if Dio hadn’t sent her away to that treatment center all those months ago.
I wish the answer to all this strife were as easy as my people fighting the angels directly, but because of the unspoken truce, my hands are tied. Of course, as hard as I try to forget it, there’s also the pesky fact that they outnumber us by a significant margin. An extremely significant margin.
As part of my solution to that imbalance, these four men are being forged into a weapon I will point not at the angels directly but at their hideous city.
This is my first move to end this subversive war of inaction that is killing our planet.
A silent, slow war that, without action on my part, will also mean the end of my people.
Hopefully, the actions I have set in motion will be enough to save us.
I need these men to develop their skill in magic enough and learn ancient, nearly forgotten magic.
That esoteric weather magic is the key to the action I have planned.
Chaosta’s creation wasn’t about giving me another weapon to wield.
Instead, I created her with the elements I thought necessary to gain a powerful ally.
One who will do what is needed to begin to even the balance between demons and angels, dark and light.
At first, I wondered if I had made some mistake; she seemed so meek and unassuming.
Now, though, I see how her actions, or maybe even just her existence, have already caused the beginning of an avalanche.
One, I don’t think any of us truly know the scope of.
Unfortunately, I have also begun to care for her. Likely a side effect of giving her some of my life force. As a demon, it’s not in my nature to care for any but my own kind.
I remain in the shadows as Fem and Dio arrive in this large space.
I watch Dio closely. Where the others have been holding up well as we make progress toward our goal, Dio is rapidly crumbling. I can’t have weak steel in my weapon, especially Dio. His emotions are his weak point, and his control needs work if he is going to survive this.
After seeing his tattoos and discovering what he is capable of as a solo, magic practitioner, he is the card up my sleeve. However, since I still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to Chaosta, or that he has believed me to be a liar, I must admit my feelings on his usefulness are now clouded.
As I observe Dio, I note that Fem is approaching me. I mentally prepare for whatever conversation we are about to have.
Sharing as much information about Chaosta as I have with Fem has been a necessary evil. After I got her out of Piquory Center, someone needed to keep an eye on her to ensure she didn’t harm herself again. Fem was the obvious choice with his training in healing.
When I saw how seriously he was taking his role as Chaosta’s protector, I encouraged him to attempt to get closer to Dio, hoping that his support might help. I am not sure if it is working, but that’s neither here nor there.
Before Fem has a chance to begin the conversation the way he wants, I ask him quietly, “Has she allowed you to examine her yet?” My chest tightens as he shakes his head. “But she hasn’t harmed herself, right?” I ask.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, and I feel my muscles tense.
I’m on a razor's edge already, with her pain echoing through me, so it takes a massive amount of strength to pull myself back from the edge and compose myself. “What’s that?” I ask. My voice sounds harsh even to my ears. I see him flinch.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I started to wonder how she would’ve had access to a knife or blade at the center,” he says.
I relax slightly. I have the answer to this. “The notes in her medical record said she got violent, broke a table, and stabbed herself with the broken table leg,” I say, careful to keep my voice low.
“That wound wasn’t made by a jagged piece of wood; that was made by a blade,” he says.
There is a loud ringing in my ears. The room ceases to exist as rage causes me to dematerialize without intent and reform in the alley behind Lily’s building.
Fuck, that hasn’t happened since I was merely a few centuries old.
Thankfully, with the sudden cessation of pain now that I’m further from Chaosta, I am able to get control of myself fairly quickly.
Momentarily, I wonder if creating her and giving her as much of my strength as I did was a good idea, but I shake off that thought. The map is spread out ahead of both of us at this point, and while there are still large gaps, this is the only viable path.
Rage continues to course through me, and I begin to plan. I will find answers, and if it is as I suspect, based on what Fem just said, people will pay. Direct action on this problem will be a refreshing change of pace.