by Kate Martin
“We’ll have to travel on foot,” Carma said. “Can’t very well take Bri through the eye of Hell. Stay here a moment, I shall find Mary and Brannick, they should have the carriage ready.”
She disappeared into the darkness.
Alec sighed and collapsed to the grass once again, unwilling to stand for any moment he didn’t have to. Bri cautiously stepped closer and knelt beside him. “This is my fault,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Another flash of pain made Alec wrap an arm around his middle. “Your fault?” Alec said.
“He wanted me.”
Alec wanted so badly to release Hell’s power—he never held onto it this long, it was too risky, and it was already starting to feel too good—but the moment he did, the pain would be so great he doubted he would remain conscious. “That’s not your fault. We all have something in our past. It comes with the territory.”
Bri remained quiet a moment, but Alec didn’t think that meant he had accepted his explanation. “When I—” Bri hesitated. “When you—I saw something.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw something, when you touched me. When you pushed me out of the way.”
“But I thought you couldn’t—” Understanding dawned on him. He had already drawn power by the time he had been forced to pull Bri away from the first attack. Normally he was empty, a void, and he suspected that emptiness served as the ‘quiet’ Bri described. But when he had grabbed him to save him, he had been anything but empty.
He had been filled with the power of Hell.
“Gods, Bri, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about it. I just acted. Carma’s right, you shouldn’t touch me now.”
A nod so small Alec almost missed it was his initial agreement. “I don’t ever want to see that again.”
He saw straight into Hell. No child should ever have to see such a thing.
— CHAPTER SEVEN —
Gabriel stood at the edge of the myst, the wisps swirling up against the shore like waves. Singers—seraph whose sole purpose was to tend and navigate the myst—fluttered in and out with ease. They sank down into the myst with their slender, featherless wings, far more suited to gliding through the myst than most seraph’s feathered appendages. Like Gabriel’s.
Gabriel had never wished to be anything other than what she was. As far as she was concerned, she had the best of both worlds. She could touch the myst, but she was not bound to it. A life of nothing but that swirling fog, constantly on watch for missteps, changes, interference, was not for her. The singers could spend their lives detecting it, but she could spend hers doing something about what they saw.
She stretched her wings, the joints cracking from fatigue and stress, the brown feathers lightly brushing her back as she folded them once again. The myst churned below and out beyond, ebbing and flowing against the shoal, uncaring of whether or not she actually knelt down and touched it. It had been a full turn. A turn of watching singers come and go, of other seraph dropping by for a quick peek. Gabriel had yet to actually touch the myst.
Don’t ask a question you do not want the answer to. Her mentor, Michael, had always stressed that. Until now, she hadn’t known what he meant. All knowledge was power, good. Gabriel had always sought answers, needed them.
Until now.
No. She would not be frightened off like some foolish child. She pulled off her boots.
“General, sir.”
Barefoot, Gabriel set her boots aside and turned to receive the salute she knew Temel had presented her. The expression on his normally unreadable face told her far too much, and darkened her already black mood. “What is it?”
The sight of the shimmering silver towers in the distance blended with his armor, making him a piece of the sweeping city landscape. “There has been an incident.”
“It’s not like you to keep me waiting, Temel. Out with it.”
He dropped his fist from his chest to his side. “Captain Vihiel has been killed, along with a sentry.”
“The Second File?” She had sent them into the Mortal Realm to investigate the boy and the demon who had taken him. She’d gone to The Center of Enlightenment, Education, and Knowledge, but the seraph there had only been able to tell her that the labrynth found at the ritual site was poorly constructed and incomplete, and therefore it was impossible to know exactly who the intended demon had been. However, they reasoned that whomever it was wouldn’t have been able to take the boy far. So much blood had been required. There was little chance the child was in good health. Knowing that, Gabriel had ordered the Second File to scour the countryside. If nothing else, it was a starting point.
Apparently, she had struck gold. Then lost it.
“Dead?”
“They failed to report to the rendezvous point. His second in command sent out a search party. They found armor and weapons inside a burned-out manor house. Nothing but ash remained, sir.”
Nothing but ash. Burned with Hellfire then. Instinctively Gabriel clasped her fist over her heart. A death no seraph could come back from. A final end. Not all demons were capable of such finality. “A tragedy. Though it does shorten our list. There are few demons old enough to control Hellfire that way,” she said.
Temel nodded. “Yes, sir. I already have a list being assembled.”
“Those at the Center said the labrynth would only have been able to summon a demon who had been weakened in some way. So whoever it is, they are old, but not at their best. That should limit the possibilities.”
“I shall inform those working on the list immediately. Are you going into the myst?”
“I was considering it.”
“May I ask why, sir?”
Why indeed? Gabriel turned and looked into that deep darkness that carried all the details of The One’s Grand Plan. “Because he can see it. And though I doubt the boy sees clearly, if I can determine what he sees, or what pieces appeal to him the most, maybe I can predict where he will go and what he will do. Too much time has gone by. Those above me want results. He changes too much.”
Temel’s silence carried far too much weight.
“What? What else?”
“Kadiel,” he said.
Carefully executed self-control was the only thing that kept Gabriel from screaming in frustration. This whole mess was Kadiel’s fault in the first place. If she had just followed orders… “What about her?”
“She knows you’ve had a lead. They are doing their best to keep her occupied, to make sure she has responsibilities elsewhere, but you know how she gets.”
How she gets. Gabriel was tired of tiptoeing around the matter. “Make sure she stays in that vault she loves so much,” she said, carefully holding onto the last few threads of her temper. “Personally. If she gets under my feet, it will be on your head, is that understood?”
Temel accepted the order with nothing more than a salute. The consummate right-hand man. He left her, knowing a dismissal even when she did not explicitly give one.
The myst crept forward, growing bold, and flicked against Gabriel’s toes. Before another distraction could approach, she lifted a foot and let herself sink deep inside.
One could walk easily enough through the myst, even without a singer’s streamlined wings. Really, the membranous wings only served as a way for the singers to receive more information from the myst, as receptors. Gabriel wasn’t trained to look in multiple directions at once—another trait of singers she had never envied—she much preferred focusing on one particular item at a time. And what she was trained to do, born to do, was use and see into the myst for her own purposes. It would not touch her without invitation.
A particularly thick tendril of myst wafted by, and Gabriel reached out and gently touched it with a single finger, the blue and silver glowing against her brown skin. Instantly she knew what future it led to, and for a brief moment, she allowed the images to enter her mind. A storm, three mortal generations from the current time, that would bring tornadoes and hail to tear apart a small village a
t the edge of what the mortals now called the Frontier. The village itself did not even exist yet, but its end had already been written.
Gabriel dismissed the myst and its part of the plan. It was as it had always been. As The One intended. She moved on.
With simple touches, she saw and heard centuries’ worth of pre-destiny. A man and woman who would preach the word of The One and accrue a great following. A cult dedicated to the mischievous twin gods, Kaeie and Kesi, that would bring as much piety as it would debauchery. A city that would rise to become the wealthiest of all the Mortal Realm. A city that would produce a leader who would bring peace and prosperity for all his reign, as well as that of his children and his children’s children. Oddly, the leader was not as of yet fully identified. But that was no cause for alarm. It most likely meant a new soul that had not yet been introduced into the cycle of life and death.
None of those paths were what she wanted to see. Closing her eyes and folding her wings, she sunk a little deeper into the myst, into the thinner and shorter tendrils. These she touched more rapidly; the time of a mortal life taking only an instant to see and feel. She peeled through these, witnessing births and deaths in the span of half a breath. Illness, tragedy, happiness, love; she waded through it all, searching for something that might interest the boy, or that seemed tainted, touched by him.
Nothing stood out.
Frustrated, Gabriel released all the tendrils she had touched and simply stood in the myst, refusing any of it entry to her mind. She couldn’t afford to spend forever there, waiting for the child to make an appearance. There had to be a better way…
Damn you, Talia. Damn your curiosity and your ill-gotten need to explore outside of this world you were given. None of this would be happening if you had just stuck to The Plan.
“Can I help you?”
The soft voice pulled Gabriel from her dark thoughts. The face before her was exactly as all singers’ faces were—soft, slender, kind, with silver eyes that could see more in the myst than Gabriel’s brown. Her wings were that same silver, and currently extended to their full length, collecting information even as she addressed Gabriel. It was odd to be approached by a singer, as many of them kept to themselves and the myst.
“Gabriel,” she said by way of introducing herself, “General of the First File.”
The singer smiled. “I know who you are, Gabriel.” She tucked her silver hair behind an ear. “My name is Oriel, and I have no rank to quote for we are all equal here. I ask if there is something I can help you with, but I feel I already know what has brought you here.”
Gabriel felt heavy and hard in the presence of this delicate creature. While all singers were seraph, not all seraph were singers, and the differences were very clear. She liked being strong, capable; and the militaristic life had always appealed to her over the priestly life of the singers. But standing there, face-to-face with this lovely thing, all silver, with gossamer clothes of that same pale shade, she felt for a moment clumsy and awkward.
With that, she reminded herself of how easily a singer could be broken, and how she could withstand almost anything. “And just what would that be?”
“The boy. The one who comes to the myst, but cannot find his way.”
“You have seen him?”
“We have all seen him. You know this. The reports go to you.”
“The reports tell me only that he accesses the myst, and that occasionally he lingers, like he did not long ago. He stayed long enough that I was able to come here and get an idea of his location before he fell out again.”
Oriel nodded, and looked saddened. “He is never truly here completely. Not like we are. If he was, then we could help him.”
“Help him?” Gabriel felt her temper about to snap. “We are not supposed to be helping him, the order is to capture and contain him. He goes against The Plan. You of all people should understand that.”
A tendril of myst glided by, and Oriel stroked it lovingly like a pet. “It is not his fault he came to be the way he is. I understand the orders, and the reasons for them. I do not dispute them, but if you were ever here when he entered, and could feel the agony it causes him,” she shuddered, “you would wish you could help as well. In any way.”
Perhaps. “Has he been here recently?”
“Not any more than usual. His presence is always felt here. The myst is drawn to him. He cannot escape it completely.”
“Is there one place that he visits frequently? A path that particularly appeals to him?”
“Oh no. He is always everywhere and nowhere. A single life here, a city’s future there. I think he travels, always with new people, in new places. There was something odd not long ago though. I’d never felt it before, and I often keep an ear out for him. Talia was dear to me.”
“Dear to you? You knew her?” Not many would admit to any relation to Talia since her fall. No one wanted to be suspected of the same taint.
Oriel smiled that serene smile. “Of course. She was my sister, as is Kadiel.”
Now there was a surprise. “And you admit to this?”
That smile never wavered. “Kadiel is young and impulsive. I neither apologize for, nor defend, her actions.”
“I should hope not. But what of you? You must have an opinion on the matter.”
Oriel shook her head. “What will be, will be.”
And with those words Gabriel detected the end of that discussion. “You said you felt something odd. What did you mean?”
“Ah, yes. Well, he disappeared.” She touched another passing tendril.
Gabriel had been about to touch the tendril Oriel touched, wondering if it were some clue, but then stopped short. “What?”
Oriel released the tendril. “He was gone, completely. There was no sign of him in the myst. Not even that tiny trace that always follows him. It was as if he had left, as we do from time to time, but he has never had that level of control before. And with no one to teach him, I can’t imagine him coming by it.”
The possibilities of what that meant raced through Gabriel’s head, and she paced. “Gone. You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes. Quite certain.” She touched another tendril. Never did her expression reveal what she might have seen. And, as she had through the entire conversation, she remained so still that it made Gabriel itch.
“Has he come back?”
“I can feel him now, but it is that vague presence. He is not overtaken or lost, simply living what has become normal for him.”
“Can you tell me where he is?”
“No.”
Gabriel accepted that answer, then thought better of her question. “Would you tell me?”
“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? But I like to think that I would. My sister’s child’s life is nothing but pain. That is a cruelty I cannot fathom.”
“Will you inform me the moment he is back in the myst? Deep enough that perhaps we could locate him again?”
“I shall send for you.”
“Thank you.” Stretching her wings, Gabriel turned and prepared to make for the surface. The myst gave her a chill.
“Will you promise me something, Gabriel?”
She pulled her wings in so she could glance over her shoulder. “That depends on a number of things, but you may ask.”
Oriel folded her hands in front of her chest, her focus solely on Gabriel. “I know what Michael and Raziel want done with the child. But he is still one of us in so many ways. When the time comes, he should be treated as such.”
“The boy is not seraph, Oriel. He would never survive here.”
“I only ask for mercy for my sister’s child who will have to pay for her sins.”
“I can make no promise, but I will see what I can do.”
Unwilling to hear more, or to be prodded for a further promise, Gabriel spread her wings and rose, breaking through the surface of the myst.
Oriel had given her more than she knew.
For when Gabriel had spread her wings the fi
rst time, they had brushed the gentle membrane of Oriel’s, and she had seen what Oriel always held so close.
Gabriel had the boy’s scent. A trip to the myst would yield far more the next time she had the chance.
The boy would soon be hers. This nightmare would be over.
— CHAPTER EIGHT —
Bri sat close to Alec where Carma had laid him on the ground within a copse of trees just outside the nearest town. He felt terribly responsible for all the blood and for each pained breath Alec drew. He had spoken up when they stopped short of the next town—something he rarely did, silence usually worked best for him—wanting to know why they didn’t proceed onward and get Alec a bed that would be more comfortable than the cold ground.
“Trust me, little one,” Carma had said, “what we are about to do would only draw far too much unwanted attention in a populated area.”
That had been the end of it.
The housekeeper and butler, Mrs. McCallahan and Brannick, had taken the carriage ahead to make the necessary arrangements. Brannick would return once everything had been taken care of, while Mrs. McCallahan would stay behind to make the rooms to their liking.
Bri had stayed behind only because Carma was unwilling to let him out of her sight. And he was unwilling to let Alec out of his. He wished he could take Alec’s hand, by way of apology and comfort, as well as for the quiet it brought. But the things he had seen, just from that one moment of touching Alec while he held that Hellish power, still lingered in his mind’s eye, tormenting him and giving him waking nightmares. The quiet would dispel it, give him time to clear his mind, and thus Bri had to handle the images on his own.
Odd. He had always done everything on his own, but one simple taste of that quiet and already he craved it, wanted to depend on it. Realizing that made him feel weaker than ever before.
Can’t even take care of yourself. So willing for an easy out. Such a coward. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.
