by S T Branton
“Thanks,” I said. “Catch you later. I need to contact some people.”
She waved absently. “Good luck. The signal’s not bad up there, but it’s been a little finicky lately. I hope it doesn’t give you too much trouble.”
I took the hand radio out of my pocket as I cut through the bustle in the sanctuary. The indoor scene reminded me a lot of Fort Victory, although not quite as organized. The church’s residents sat in groups, talking, eating, and laughing together. Children chased each other across the barren floor. Outside the few windows that hadn’t been sealed to keep out the cold, I spotted Smitty’s Weres on patrol. He’d really built a good thing for himself and Amber out in this creepy forest. I was glad for them.
The tower staircase, narrow and spiraling, looked like a set piece from a gothic movie. If I stood in the center of the ground floor and tilted my head all the way back, the massive maw of the bell yawned above me, its clapper the pupil in a great, dark eye.
Quite a feat of architecture, Marcus commented. Clearly a remnant of purer times.
“Yeah,” I retorted. “Accusing random people of witchcraft and then burning them at the stake was super pure. I bet there’s a god or two who are pretty mad about that one.”
In my experience, there is little the gods are not angry about, Marcus said.
The climb up was long but not too difficult. I took the shallow steps two or three at a time. When I reached the top, the bell loomed above my head and a rope as thick as my arm dangled from the clapper. The juvenile urge to ring it as loud as possible gnawed at my insides. I actually reached for the rope, but pulled my hand back at the last minute.
“They’d probably think the world was ending,” I told myself out loud. “It’d be worse than pulling a fire alarm.”
To be fair, the world is ending, in a way, Marcus said. Not that I condone this mischief.
“If you stood here, you would’ve pulled the shit out of it,” I said and smirked. “We both know the truth.”
I reserve the right to say absolutely nothing.
I scanned the round, open chamber until I spotted the radio tucked against a low wall. It was much smaller and less elaborate than ours, but its basic interface was the same. A pair of ancient headphones, held together with tape, sat on top of the wall beside the device. I leaned beside them and raised the smaller talk-box to my face.
“Come in,” I said. “Anyone out there?” The channel was already synced with Luis. I hoped he wasn’t sleeping or distracted.
“Loud and clear,” came his response after a brief pause. “I began to think you ended up in some bizarre fourth dimension. Fill me in, chief.”
He got the lowdown on our current plan. “The long and short of it is, I’m stuck waiting,” I said. “As soon as I get word from the away team I’ll let you know where we’re headed.” I felt bad that I forced the kid to wait, but the work couldn’t be exciting all the time. “Cross your fingers that it won’t be long.”
“We’re cool,” Luis told me. “We’ve kept busy. I have a few new rides on standby when you need ʼem.”
I smiled. “Awesome. You’re the best.”
“I know,” he said. “Keep in touch, all right?”
“Will do.” I slipped the radio into my pocket and turned to the well-used headphones, put them on gingerly, and twisted the tuning dial. Twenty seconds of snow buzzed in my ears. “Come on,” I muttered. “She’s got to be around here somewhere.”
“—and remember to report everything you see, people. Collective vigilance is what keeps us alive out here. We can’t afford to let our guard down.” Namiko’s voice crackled over the air. Her cheerful tone was undercut by a deadly serious subtext.
I pressed the button. “Namiko? It’s Vic.”
“Hey! I wondered when I’d hear from you again. What’s going on where you are? Nothing too awful, I hope.”
“Actually, things have recently taken a turn for the better,” I said. “I’m in Washington with Smitty’s camp.” I gave her the most efficient version of the details and ended on our supply coup. “I’m trying not to be too concerned about what that means for the scale of the operation we’re fighting against, but the thought is there. You know how it goes.”
“Yeah.” She laughed wryly. “Yeah, I do. Anything you need from me?”
I tapped my fingers idly on the large plastic cup of the earphone. “Can you patch me through to the fort, please? I want to give the girls a status update.”
“Sure thing. I can’t guarantee the reception quality, but at least you’ll get through.”
“We’ll manage,” I said. A flurry of clicks and whirrs rushed into the earpiece. The channel dissolved into static and reformed. The next thing I heard was a chorus of two of my favorite voices.
“Hello? Vic?” I could picture Maya and Jules huddled in chairs around the clunky fort radio, their heads leaned together over the speaker. The image made me smile wider.
“Hey, you two,” I said. “I’m checking in. How are things on your end?”
“They’re good!” Maya sounded as chipper as ever, which I was happy for. I needed her spirits to be high. “We heard from Frank and Steph earlier today too if you can believe that. They said they’re on their way back.”
I arched my eyebrows. “Really? I wonder what they found.”
“Beats me,” Maya said. “You know Steph. She’s not much of a talker.”
“Even to you?” I asked.
“What?” Maya frowned. “I think we exchanged a total of three sentences.”
I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“I don’t get it,” Maya said. “Anyway, supplies are stable. We’re eating well. It’s as cold as hell every night now, so preserving food is way less of a problem for the moment.”
“Everyone’s still happy for the most part,” Jules added. “They’ve asked about you a couple times. I think the general consensus is that the fort is safest when you’re here. But Veronica hasn’t mentioned major unrest, and so far, there haven’t been any riots. We’re locked into the idea of wintering here.”
I nodded. “There’s bound to be some cabin fever, especially as the weather freezes over. I had some itchy feet myself before I left. But as long as they’re all committed to ensuring the safety of the group, I think we’ll come out the other side fine.”
“If no one gets sick,” Maya pointed out. “V and I are in the process of arranging another pharmacy run. I’d like to stock up on everything we can before cold and flu season hits. Germs will spread like the damn devil in here.”
“Good idea.” I sat down on the wall. “It sounds like you guys are all kicking serious butt back there. I’m proud of you.”
“What about in Washington?” Jules asked. “Is everyone okay?” A subtle note of urgency rang in the question. I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew whom she was most curious about.
“Yeah,” I replied, a little teasingly. “Smitty and Amber are amazing. You should see the outfit they’re running here. It’s in a church.”
“Oh. Oh, that’s great!” Jules tried hard to disguise the disappointment in her words. I felt a pang of guilt. “A church might creep me out at night, though. It sounds spooky.”
“Brax is okay too,” I told her. “He even smiled a few times yesterday.” I conveniently left out the violent reason why.
“Wow,” said Jules. “That’s unusual.” Even over the distance and the shoddy signal, which grew worse by the second, I knew she was flustered. The blush almost registered on the radio readout. She said something else after that, but it cut out after the first syllable.
Namiko replaced her in the headphones. “Things are starting to break up,” she said. The sentence crackled. “We’ve got to go.”
“Hey.” Jules came in one more time. “Can you tell—” The static overtook the last part of her sentence. She paused and tried again. “Tell—” Again, nothing but snow followed.
I smiled slightly, and on the off chance that she could still hear m
e, I said, “Okay, I’ll tell Brax you want to go to prom with him.” An incoherent snippet of her voice popped through the noise. It sounded like she might be yelling. Then the channel cut out completely. I chuckled, removed the headset carefully, and stepped away from it to walk to the other side of the chamber and enjoy the view. A thin, cold mist blanketed the trees in soft gray. This high up, my eyes traced the scars left in the land by Oxylem and the Vikings. Evidence of the fires stood out despite the fog.
Oxylem has committed grave atrocities out of fear, Marcus mused. But I still feel sadness for the way he must have suffered at his own hand. I have no doubt the remorse described by Jerry was genuine.
It was hard to wrap my brain around the idea of a god shedding tears as he worked to destroy the land he loved. The more it stuck in my head, the less I wanted to think about it. I took a deep breath of the crisp, wild air and focused my eyes far out on the murky horizon. Tiny droplets of condensed water clung to my skin and clothes. “What a gorgeous place,” I said. “But kind of damp, though.”
“I hate it,” someone grunted at my back. “Give me dry heat any day. I don’t care if it’s a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade.” Brax propped himself up in the corner to my left.
“I figured you’d hate that kind of weather more than this,” I said. “Because of Asphodel.”
“I’m not saying I love it,” he answered. “But it’s easier to tolerate than this. It feels like I’m soaked all the time.” He stared out at the view. “Nice country, I guess. I mean the part that doesn’t have all the fucked-up trees.”
I swallowed my smile. “Right.” He fell silent and held his trademark tough-guy pose. Droplets beaded on his glasses and he eventually took them off and scowled as he stuck them into a pocket. I made sure not to stare at his naked face. “Hey, Brax, can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer, but I’ve wondered about it.”
“What?” he asked flatly. He was obviously not thrilled, but he didn’t say no.
“Laurel’s baby,” I began, somewhat hesitantly. “Why’d you save her?”
“We already talked about this,” he answered gruffly but didn’t look at me.
“Not really,” I said. “You told me you were reminded of something, and that was it. I know there must be a story there.”
“And let me guess, you want to hear it?” He glanced my way expectantly.
“Only if you want to tell it,” I said as gently as I thought he’d allow.
For a few moments, the demon said nothing. Then he shuffled his way over to a place where he could sit and heaved a sigh. “You humans get fixated on the weirdest shit,” he told me. “All right. Whatever. Here you go.”
Chapter Thirty
I didn’t join Brax right away. He was clearly out of his comfort zone, and I wanted to give him his space. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and studied his clasped hands. Whenever his black eyes caught the light, they sparkled slightly, like multifaceted jewels.
“I don’t know how long ago it was.” He spoke after a long period of solemn contemplation. “Phoenician empire, maybe. It would’ve been ancient times for your kind. You were only learning how to write and all that shit.” He chuckled to himself. “Anyway, it barely matters. Once upon a time, let’s say, I got out of Asphodel and they couldn’t catch me. Whether they forgot, or they decided to not give a shit, or they were so mad their damn heads exploded, I don’t care. All I know is, I was out for a long time.”
“Got it,” I said.
He nodded. “In the beginning, it was impossible to enjoy freedom, even though I loved it. The feeling of going anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted, with no one looking over my shoulder? There’s nothing like it in this world or the next. But I was a fugitive, and I was never sure who lurked around the next corner. I was paranoid.” His dark gaze flicked to me. “I had to be. If Kronin had sent anyone to chase my sorry ass down, I knew exactly who he would have chosen.” He paused to give me a sharp look. “Would you sit down? You’re making me fucking nervous standing there.”
“Sorry,” I said. He shifted to make a space for me, and I took it.
Brax resumed his story. “The guy’s name was Belen. I called him Bell End later, which he did not appreciate.”
That is extremely disrespectful, Marcus cut in. Belen was not the head of a phallus.
“If you haven’t guessed, he filled the same spot as your invisible buddy, only years before. I wish I could say he loved Kronin less, but I think he might’ve loved him more. He was a real zealot. And a real asshole.” Brax rubbed his jaw and his brow furrowed at the memory.
This slander is heinous, but I shall bear it to hear the demon’s tale.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he clarified. “Belen was good at the things that made him valuable to Kronin. He was supremely confident, shrewd, and strong in battle and in mind. What he lacked was integrity. He’d skin me alive as soon as he’d throw me back into Asphodel if he was given the opportunity to choose. Hell, I’m sure he wanted to. Kronin had to keep him on a tight leash, or else he’d be ruthless.”
I listened for Marcus’s commentary. This time, the centurion stayed quiet. “You stayed away from him,” I said.
Brax shrugged. “He never showed up. I spent years constantly on the lookout and expected to see his smug, sneering face bear down on me at any second. It never happened, and the longer time went on, the more I relaxed. I let myself think I’d finally done it, and I gave myself permission to roam freely over the world. Or as freely as possible, anyway. I still wasn’t able to interact with humans, on account of all this.” He made a vague motion that encompassed his blatantly demonic features. “And I couldn’t risk stirring up trouble, so I drifted along in the margins of society and tried to ignore the void I felt. I was weak.”
“You were lonely,” I suggested
He knit his brows. “Same thing. I didn’t think I’d want any sort of companionship after the way I was treated in Asphodel. It hit me hard.” He hesitated. “And then one day, I was hiking through the mountains on another one of my long walks to nowhere, and I heard this terrible scream straight out of hell. To this day, I can’t say why, but I went to investigate. I found this woman cornered by a mountain lion. This was back when they were huge, and they had giant fangs.”
“Saber teeth,” I said.
“Yeah, close enough to it anyway. She was about three seconds from getting ripped apart. I jumped in and got torn up instead.” He grimaced. “It was a stupid thing to do. She didn’t have a scratch on her, but I was hurt. She said she couldn’t leave me like that. And she took me in.”
“What was her name?” Of all the things Brax might have told me, a love story was the thing I least expected. He looked ready to staunchly deny any hint of romance or soft feelings, but I could not be fooled.
“Elissa,” he said. “A widow with children to care for alone. As repayment for her kindness, I took up residence on her small farm and tended to her flocks and raised her children in her late husband’s stead. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t grow to enjoy it. She was a warm, compassionate soul. All her little ones were bright and curious. Gentle things, those kids. We might have remained that way for a long time—the rest of their lives. It’s impossible to know.
“Belen didn’t stay away forever. When he finally showed himself on Elissa’s land, it was to say that he had observed me, watched, and waited for a weakness to reveal itself. He patiently allowed me to form bonds with the fragile humans I came to know, and then he struck. I was ordered to comply with his every demand or see the whole region burned to the ground.” Brax’s face was a stone mask. “All he asked was that I give myself up and return to Asphodel. That was all he had permission to ask. If Kronin’s authority hadn’t tied his hands, he might have killed them regardless, simply to punish me. That’s the kind of man he was, deep down.
“I’ve never hated anything more than I hated Belen at that moment. But I did what he said because I wanted Elissa and her chi
ldren to be safe. As far as I know, he honored his end of the bargain, but that’s another thing lost. My next escape was far too late. She was gone from this world, as were all traces of her family line. Belen remained. And so did I.”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m sorry, Brax.”
I, too, must offer as sincere an apology as I am able. I had no knowledge of the details of these events. Had I truly understood their gravity, perhaps I would have acted with more sensitivity. I am sorry, Abraxzael, for the cruelty of my predecessor. Belen was not a perfect man.
“It hardly seems worth fretting over now,” said Brax in response to my empathy, “but I appreciate the sentiment.” He moved his hand to his coat pocket, and I figured he would put his glasses back on. Instead, he withdrew a slip of paper, which he handed to me. “You wanted to know what your friend gave me. Take a look.”
I unfurled the sheet. It was a poem written in Jules’s precise handwriting, about a beautiful girl and the “rough” man who saved her. It was sweet. Underneath the verses, Jules had noted, Mediterranean region, twelfth century BC?
“Where does she find this stuff?” I folded the paper and returned it to him.
He shrugged. “It is a kinder gift than any I’ve received in thousands of years. Maybe the kindest gift of my lifetime.” He gazed thoughtfully at the trees. “I believed what Belen said that day for all the years to follow, that caring for others is a weakness. I still want to believe it today. Things are easier with an unmoored heart.”
“I used to think so, too,” I told him. “Then I got thrown into this batshit crazy mess, and I learned it’s exactly the opposite. Think about how fucking badass you looked, saving that family. Think about how they’ll always remember what you did for them. You’re building a legacy, Brax, with every incredible, selfless thing you do.”
He mulled that over quietly.
“It’s not a weakness,” I emphasized. “We both know you’re the furthest thing from weak. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s why you keep jailbreaking Asphodel like it’s nothing. You care, and it makes you stronger.”
