Between the Blade and the Heart

by Amanda Hocking

  Oona sighed. “Fine. First, what do you know about Eisheth Levanon?”

  “She’s a Fallen and Cormac says she’s an ex-prostitute.”

  That made sense, because a lot of Fallen ended up that way. Some angels were allowed to live and love freely, but certain sects were required to be completely “pure” and abstain from all sorts of physical pleasure. If they gave in to their urges, they were booted out of their group and usually lost their jobs. And without any real skills, other than their former purity and goodness, many of them fell onto prostitution.

  “She lives in the city?” Oona asked.

  “Supposedly. A lot of Fallen live in the Wolf River District, so if she’s here, she’s probably staying somewhere in that area.”

  “Great. That narrows it down. I’ll get my kit,” she said, and she was already up and hurrying to her room.

  Oona gathered up her alchemy toolbox and lugged it to the living room. She pulled out a mirrored tray and set it on the coffee table, then began rummaging through her toolkit until she pulled out several different-colored vials.

  One of the largest bottles, curved and filled with a glowing lime-green liquid, sat near the top, and she picked it up and pulled out the glass stopper. Slowly, she poured it into the tray, filling it up to the edge of the lip. With deft movements I didn’t understand, Oona waved her hand over the liquid, causing a glowing mist to rise above it and dissipate throughout the room.

  “This isn’t going to hurt Bowie, is it?” I asked.

  My wolpertinger was sitting by the window, dutifully cleaning his long ears with his front paws. But at the sound of his name, he perked up and looked over at me.

  “I would never do anything to hurt Bowie. He’ll be fine just as long as he doesn’t drink this.”

  She added a few more vials, saying a Latin phrase each time she poured one in. Taking a long stick from her box, she stirred the mixture before adding a vial of black crystals. The pool of liquid turned black and became smooth and reflective, appearing more like a television screen than a tray of potions and liquid.

  Oona rubbed her hands together and cleared her throat. “Ostende mihi Wolf River District.”

  “What’d you just say?” I asked, and she held up a finger to silence me.

  The liquid began to swirl, changing from black to gray, and slowly an image began to take form. At first I didn’t recognize it, but as the streets and old warehouses took shape, I realized it was an aerial view of the Wolf River area.

  “Lumino angelorum lapsus,” Oona said, and buildings started lighting up, glowing bright green.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  She motioned to the tray. “It’s showing places where fallen angels live.”

  “That’s like a hundred places or more,” I pointed out. “Is there a way to narrow it down?”

  “Well, I was hoping there would be fewer spots on here.” Oona chewed the inside of her cheek. “What else can you tell me about Eisheth?”

  “Um, she’s supposedly been hanging around with this Bram guy a lot lately,” I said.

  “Would you say she was his consort?” Oona asked helpfully.

  I shrugged. “Maybe?”

  “And what do you know about Bram?”

  “Just that he’s a draugr. Allegedly.”

  “Oh, right.” Oona thought for a minute, then leaned over the tray and cleared her throat. “Lumino consorcio immortui.”

  Many of the lights blinked out, but about two dozen still glowed.

  “I think that vampires and a few other types of the impious are being lumped in because I had to use the word for ‘undead,’ since I didn’t know the one for draugr,” Oona explained. “So I need something else.”

  “Can you just say Eisheth?” I asked.

  Oona shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. Beings go by many different names. You have to describe who they are, not what they’re called.”

  “Cormac thought she used to work for an archangel, if that’s helpful.”

  “I’ll try it.” She rubbed her hands together again and incanted, “Lumino servi archangeli.”

  With that, all the lights went out, except for one.

  “Adducet eam ad me,” Oona said authoritatively, and the image in the pool zoomed in, bringing us just above the glowing building. “That’s where she is.”

  “So where is that?” I asked, tilting my head.

  “What does that look like?” Oona leaned over the pool, squinting at a street sign. “I think that says … Lake Street and … Canal Avenue.” She sat back on her knees, looking proud of herself. “Eisheth lives in a building at the corner of Lake Street and Canal Ave.”

  I was about to thank her, when something occurred to me. “Why can’t we do this with Bram or even Tamerlane Fayette?”

  Oona shook her head. “They’re way too powerful. This kind of thing only works on low-level supernatural beings, like Manananggals or the Fallen. I doubt it would’ve even worked on Tamerlane Fayette before he became a draugr.”

  Angels were divine and immortal, but once they became Fallen, they gave up their immortality and all their authority. That would make Eisheth Levanon easier to deal with once we found her, because she wouldn’t need a Valkyrie sword or a kill order for me to be able to end her life, if that became necessary.

  I leaned back in the couch, exhaling deeply. Bowie came over and hopped onto my lap. He ruffled his feathered wings, and I absently petted him, smoothing them out.

  Oona propped her elbows on the table and looked up at me. “What’s your next move?”

  “Wait for the pain meds to kick in, and then go tell Marlow that we found a link to Bram Madichonnen,” I decided.

  “Are you gonna contact Asher?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Not today.”

  Things were already strained enough between Marlow and me right now. I didn’t need to add the tension surrounding Asher and all the mixed feelings about his quest. Besides, I was only going to relay some info to my mother. It’d be simple and quick, and nothing exciting should happen. He didn’t need to be there for that.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “You didn’t have to come with me,” I told Oona as she huffed up the flight of stairs behind me.

  She’d wanted to drive me here because she didn’t think I’d properly be able to drive the luft with my injured leg since I’d overdone it last night, even though I’d been coping pretty well the last couple days. But if it made her feel better to tag along, I was happy to let her.

  “No, no, I got this,” she insisted, jogging up the last few steps to catch up with me. “I do really need to start working out more. It’s ridiculous that it’s harder for me to go up those sixty steps than it was for you with your injured leg.”

  “I do train for this kind of thing,” I reminded her, pausing at the landing outside Marlow’s apartment to give Oona time to catch her breath.

  “Maybe I should start training with you.” She reached out to touch my bicep, firm and brawny underneath my light jacket. “Wow. Maybe I could start out slower, like with a spin class.”

  I knocked at the door, and Marlow answered relatively quickly, at least for her. Her hair was still wet from a shower, and she was makeup-less, other than her usual dark red lipstick. She leaned on the doorframe, sighing at me.

  “Don’t you ever call anymore?” she asked.

  “You never answer when I call,” I countered, which was true. I’d tried calling her three times before I came over, but she literally never answered her phone.

  Marlow raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “That’s a real nice way to talk to your daughter,” I muttered before plunging into my spiel. “I just came to tell you that we found out something about one of those draugrs, but if you don’t wanna talk—”

  She instantly straightened up and her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you found something out?” Then she glanced over at Oona. “Oh, fine, come in. The both of you.�
�

  Marlow walked into her dim apartment, which was still fairly clean from Asher’s visit, though there were several empty alcohol bottles piled up around the sink. So either she had cleaned out a closet, or she had gone on a minor drinking binge after parting ways with Asher and me yesterday.

  Some exercise equipment—free weights and a stair-stepper—was strewn about the living room, and she had on her stretch pants and a loose muscle shirt. The armholes hung low, exposing the black of her sports bra and a nasty scar that ran along her ribs below it.

  Oona and I sat down on the couch, but Marlow remained standing, lighting one of her cigarillos.

  “How are you doing, Oona?” Marlow asked. “Is your mom still running that dress shop?”

  “I’m good,” she said, sounding exaggeratedly chipper. Like most people who had met Marlow, Oona was intimidated by her. “Yes, she is still sewing and tailoring.”

  Marlow nodded, taking a long drag of her tobacco. “That’s good. Tell her hi when you see her.”

  “Will do,” Oona replied.

  “So.” Marlow cast her gaze on me. “What is this exciting new piece of information you discovered?”

  “Last night, Asher and I went to the Red Raven—”

  “You did what?” Marlow growled, instantly tensing, and Oona shrank back on the couch beside me.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” I said, trying to play it off. “We were both fine.”

  “I specifically told you not to! It’s too dangerous!” Marlow shouted at me.

  “Well, we were fine, so it wasn’t that dangerous,” I argued. “And you didn’t seem to care that much about my well-being when you sent me out to face Amaryllis Mori on my own.”

  She shook her head and began pacing slowly across the living room. “That was different.”

  “How is that different?” I asked.

  “You’re supposed to handle Amaryllis on your own,” Marlow contended. “You trained for it, have a sword for it. Hell, you were born for it! You can’t just go taking on the demon underbelly by yourself.”

  I let out an exasperated groan. “We were fine! I don’t even know what you’re so mad about.”

  “Because you didn’t wait for me when I asked you to,” Marlow said, speaking to me like I was either stupid or a small child, or maybe a particularly stupid small child.

  “We’re not just going to wait around forever for you,” I told her. “Tamerlane Fayette has already killed at least one Valkyrie. We need to stop him before anybody else gets hurt.”

  Marlow finally stopped pacing. She flicked her cigarillo in a nearby ashtray, and her entire body slackened. Staring down at the floor, she rubbed her temples and exhaled heavily.

  “You need to be more careful,” she said.

  “I am,” I insisted.

  She looked at me like she wanted to argue, but she took a resigned breath instead. Her normally hard steel eyes were misty when she said, “I know I’m not much of a mother, Malin. But I just want you to be safe.”

  I opened my mouth, wanting to say some sort of word of comfort, but I couldn’t think of anything. I wasn’t used to any tenderness from her and didn’t know how to react.

  But she was still my mother, and I did still love her.

  “So what did you find out?” Marlow asked finally.

  I explained everything Asher and I had found out at the Red Raven, which caused her to respond with several eye rolls and tongue clicks. Then Oona chimed in to explain the incantations she’d done to track down where Eisheth Levanon lived.

  “Well, I suppose we ought to get going, then,” Marlow said abruptly when we’d finished.

  I glanced over at Oona in surprise before asking, “Right now?”

  Marlow put out her cigarillo, then went over to her pantry. That’s where most people stored their food, but hers was filled to the brim with weapons. She grabbed several knives, including her sword Mördare.

  “You were asking around the Red Raven last night and caught the attention of Arawn,” Marlow explained as she laid out her weapons on the kitchen table. “It won’t be long before Bram Madichonnen and any other draugrs know that you’re looking for them. And then they’ll either skip town or go on the offense and come after us.”

  “So you’re saying that we need to get to them first?” I asked.

  “Exactly,” she replied. “Oona, are you coming with us?”

  “I can, in case I might be able to help if you guys get lost,” she offered.

  Marlow held a jagged knife toward her. “Then you better take this, just to be safe.”

  Oona did as she was told, while Marlow headed back to her bedroom to finish getting ready. I went over to the weapons cabinet to start picking out a few knives for myself. Oona stared down at the knife with nervous eyes and chewed her lip.

  “Stay close to me, and you’ll be fine,” I promised her.

  THIRTY

  The large square brick building before us had once been a warehouse—an old luftfahrrad factory, Marlow thought—but it now housed over a hundred small loft apartments. Or at least that’s what the property manager had claimed.

  Oona’s magic had gotten us to the building, but it was Marlow’s old-fashioned detective work that got us to Eisheth’s door. She’d gone in to the property manager’s office and, using a combination of flirtation and threats, was able to ascertain that Eisheth Levanon lived in apartment 21B, and even got the manager to buzz us into the building.

  The lights in the hallway hung below the exposed pipes and kept flickering on and off. In the last few seconds before Eisheth finally opened the door, we were submerged in total darkness.

  For a moment the only light came from her loft, and she stood backlit in the open door—a dark shadow with wings towering over her. The silhouette of a demon.

  Then the hall lights flicked on and revealed a beautiful young woman standing in the door. Her long dark hair cascaded past her shoulders, and two black leathery wings extended from her back. She wore a white sarong, loosely tied up around her neck, so her ample breasts were all but falling out the sides, and the sarong was sheer enough that her nipples were entirely visible.

  She parted her lips slightly and tilted her head. “I didn’t buzz you in, did I?”

  “No, the manager let us in,” Marlow explained. “We just wanted to chat with you.”

  She laughed hollowly. “I’ve already met my lord and savior, and I don’t have any money to buy anything else you might be selling. Sorry.”

  Marlow put her hand on the door, stopping Eisheth from closing it. “No, we’re not here to convert you or sell anything.”

  Eisheth narrowed her eyes, but didn’t try closing the door farther, so I took that as a good sign and plunged ahead by saying, “We only wanted to know if Bram Madichonnen is around.”

  Instantly her expression hardened. “I don’t know anyone named Bram.” She tried to slam the door, but Marlow held strong, and the door wouldn’t budge.

  “We know you’re lying,” Marlow warned her.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Eisheth demanded.

  “I’m a sorceress,” Oona piped up confidently. “I know all kinds of things.”

  Eisheth gave up and sighed. “Fine.” She turned and walked back into the loft, her hips swaying subtly under her dress. “You can come in if you want, but Bram’s not here. And when he gets here, if he doesn’t like you, he’ll kill you.”

  The loft was sparsely furnished, with thick black drapes covering the large windows and blocking out any light—and keeping out any prying eyes. The décor felt very bohemian, with lots of draping, beads, and mandalas. There were no traditional tables or chairs—only cushions and pillows on the floor.

  Candles had been set out all over the space. Kitchen counters, the mantel, the floor, nearly ever surface had a candle on it, burning dimly. Melted wax was dripped onto everything.

  “I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t want you here, so…” Eisheth laughed lightly at h
er own joke, then fell back onto the “bed,” a collection of overstuffed pillows and blankets.

  I walked to the center of the room, close to where Eisheth lounged. Oona followed me more slowly, careful not to step on any open flames or freshly melted wax. Marlow began circling the edge of the room, taking slow, deliberate steps.

  “We don’t mean to intrude, and we don’t plan to be here long,” I said.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Eisheth murmured, lounging back on her pillows.

  “When do you expect Bram back?” Marlow asked, stopping to admire a large art piece made out of macramé.

  “Soon,” Eisheth replied indifferently.

  “How long have you known Bram?” Marlow tried again.

  “I’m not telling you anything about him,” she said. “If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself.”

  “That sounds fair,” Oona said.

  Eisheth turned her narrowed eyes on Oona. “Are you really a sorceress?”

  Oona nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Show me something,” Eisheth commanded.

  Oona smiled nervously. “I’m not a magician. I don’t just perform feats for simple entertainment.”

  Eisheth leaned forward, resting on her arms, and looked up at Oona. “If you show one of your tricks, I’ll tell you something about Bram.” Oona glanced back at me, so Eisheth added, “If it’s something really good, I’ll tell you three things.”

  Oona chewed her lip, thinking. “Okay. I got it.” She dug into the pockets of her jacket and pulled out a small satin bag. “My cousin Minerva just gave this to me today, so I’m not entirely sure it will work.”

  “Show me what you got, Magic Man,” Eisheth teased.

  Oona dumped the bag into her hand, filling her palm with tiny amethyst crystals, looking like purple grains of salt. She closed her eyes and began slowly rubbing her hands together. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear any words.

  Finally she opened her eyes and held her hands far apart, up in the air, and all the purple crystals were gone.

  “As ypárchei skotádi,” Oona whispered, and the candles went out—every single one, plunging the loft into near-total darkness.