Ashes of Raging Water

by Michael J Allen

  Quayla

  I took the mahogany stairs two at a time, leaving Caelum as far behind as possible. I knocked into a side table on the switchback, teetering the planter balanced there. My rush carried me to the upper landing and through the outer balcony doors.

  Anima opened the heavy doors at the opposite end of the short glass hallway before I crossed the distance.

  “I’m glad you made it in time,” Anima said.

  And yet Vitae’s waiting on us?

  I stopped short.

  My eyes clamped shut and tightened almost as much as the fists digging nails into my palm. The pressure I’d thought vanquished, ambushed me as if the short glass tunnel had squeezed everything going on into an overwhelming dread.

  A perfectly balanced perfume of growing things breathed cool air on my face. Water tinkled from the garden’s fountain. Their combined siren song invited me into my favorite place in our Shield, but this time the sweet melody hid false promises and savage teeth. The garden’s sirens summoned me into peril and conflict.

  I’m not sure how much more I can take.

  Vitae cleared his throat.

  My eyes snapped open.

  “Aquaylae, you’re blocking the entrance.” Vitae scowled from the garden’s center. “Your hair is untidy. Fix yourself.”

  I pushed long curled locks from my face.

  A stone archangel loomed over our life phoenix, wings and arms outstretched from the fountain’s center to the ceiling. Intricate stonework surrounded the angelic statue with a crowd of winged, infant trumpeters often misnamed as a cherub. Water streamed from each putto’s horn. Pure, glistening streams of water flowed from the trumpets into the wide basin, circulating water that Quayla had enchanted like Mare before her and Mare’s predecessor if one existed.

  The fountain hadn’t been crafted by someone familiar with the putti. I had seldom encountered them myself, though thankfully never so ill-attired. They were brilliant crafters, but ill-suited to transporting water which needed to arrive clean.

  Tougher than Sidhe dwarves, a statuary depiction as guardians over the small, depressed alcoves between their sandaled feet suited the putti’s nature. Each of five putti stood astride an egg larger than any an ostrich ever laid and more valuable than any other single treasure on Earth. A jeweled ovum to shame Faberge’s greatest creation nestled within a shallow recess ringed with angelic runes.

  The nearest egg—my egg—had been formed of sapphire and celestial silver. The life invested within glowed in time with my heartbeat. My egg drew me with more intensity than the other sirens—enough force that if my nest ran empty, the egg would summon me away from the threshold of True Death once.

  I glanced up at Vitae.

  His gaze darted to my egg and back. His palpable disapproval said everything. Terrance had shared the story with me just after my assignment.

  True Death had claimed Mare.

  None of the others, not even gentle Terrance, would explain how both Vitae and Mare had ended up without an egg. After True Death claimed Mare, an unexplained shortage forced the Atlanta Shield to go without a water shield for decades.

  A disgraced phoenix lucky not to be sent beyond—me—had replaced beloved Mare shortly after the Headingham incident.

  Vitae had been more than happy to hold Mare up as the penultimate example of duty and sacrifice. Mare had died saving the region in general and Vitae in specific. He’d made it abundantly clear that I was not, and would never be, Mare’s equal.

  Not even if I Died for the Shield.

  I gathered myself to face whatever Vitae had in store.

  “Terrance!” Caelum’s greeting made me jump. “How’s the DMV?”

  “Rude, but necessary.”

  My eyes followed the deep baritone to the bald, thick-bodied Moor. His smile blossomed like white orchids.

  “In other words, perfect for you.” Caelum whispered into my ear. “I am sorry for before.”

  I stiffened, not acknowledging his apology and crossed to Terrance’s wrought-iron bench. He took my hands, and I realized Terrance had somehow drawn me across the garden without speaking. “Hello, Quayla. You look beautiful.”

  “Of course she does,” Caelum said. “Her skin’s even got that newborn smell.”

  “Enough, Caelum,” another voice said.

  “Geez, chill out, Iggy,” Caelum said. “Always so testy.”

  Ignis slid fine-boned hands onto my shoulders. “I’m sorry for your loss, little sister.”

  I looked over my shoulder into slanted eyes the color of dying coals and cupped his hand. “Thanks, Iggy.”

  “Will this cost you Dylan?” Ignis asked.

  I bit my lip to prevent it quivering and held back the world’s returning weight. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t, I mean he knew, but...”

  “But do they ever truly understand?” Ignis asked.

  “Come to order and praise the Undying Light,” Vitae beckoned.

  We rose, each bowing to the fountain’s statue. Blazing light filled the rooftop greenhouse. Two divine phoenixes coalesced from the light, shifting from great bird to winged man to a pair of businessmen.

  The assembled bowed to one knee and spoke in unison, “Vilicangelus.”

  “Genuflect and acknowledge Summuseraphi,” Vitae said.

  They repeated their bow, uttering, “Summuseraphi.”

  “Summus has earned elevation,” Vilicangelus said. “He bravely defended the New Zealand Shield when all his brethren fell. When the mantle of Divine One was thrust upon him, he rose to the occasion and put down the remaining Sidhe insurrection.”

  “His whole Shield fell?” Caelum said. “Even their Divine? I thought—”

  Vitae shut Caelum up with his expression, a mean feat since Caelum never shut up. He gestured for Vilicangelus to continue.

  “Summus shelters under my wings, so you now shelter beneath his. For his next century of training, all communications channels that reach my ears with reach his as well. I remain this Shield’s Praefectus, but Summus will handle the year-to-year oversight.” Vilicangelus inclined his head toward the younger archangel.

  “Um, thanks. Obviously, I’m Summus—still getting used to the name—”

  “What was it before, Summy?” Caelum asked.

  Vitae scowled.

  “Lympha,” Summus smiled.

  I froze, staring at Summus, unsure how to feel. An aqua not much older than myself had been forcibly changed, not to a different body or gender, but to a completely different kind of phoenix. Questions spun out of control in my mind.

  Why did the divine—may his soul rest gently—have to elevate someone else? How could a divine fall so many times that their nest was empty? Do they even have nests or eggs? What if Lympha didn’t want to be elevated? Did she even get a choice? Why did she become a he? Are there no female divine?

  Vitae glowered at me, pointing at Summus and demanding my attention.

  Right. We don’t get any choices. We aren’t human. Our free will is a counterfeit. We’re just eternal soldiers never allowed rest.

  “There’s been a death in this Shield, though thank Creation not a True Death.” Summus turned to me. “Mistakes were made. I know, it happens. You should’ve seen the mess Vili had to clean up from my first moments Divine. Even so, mistakes must be addressed—”

  “Summus,” Vilicangelus said.

  Summus’s eyes flitted to his superior.

  “You’ve more than exhausted your introduction.” Vilicangelus gestured to Vitae. “The Shieldheart will conduct the briefing while we observe, quietly reserving our wisdom until the end.”

  Summus’s expression grew sheepish. “Oh. My apologies, Shieldheart, pray continue—can I say pray?”

  Vilicangelus smirked.

  8: Come To Vitae Meeting

  Quayla

  “First and foremost, this Shield has displayed a shameful lack of respect. Woolgathering in the presence of not one, but two Praefectus!” Vitae’s eyes blazed green at
Caelum, then shifted to me.

  I fidgeted, lowering my eyes.

  Vitae straightened his attire. “This Shield serves a vital function. Not only do we discretely protect humanity from supernatural interference and police the Fae Kissed who make deals with Sidhe who slip through the cracks, our jurisdiction abuts royal enclaves from both Sidhe Courts. We are protectors in diplomatic as well as physical regard.

  “Are you dressed or groomed as dignitaries? Do you carry yourself with dignity?” Vitae’s disapproval drilled into me, squeezing my heart. “No, you’re slovenly embarrassments to our Praefectus and our Creator.”

  “Vitae,” Vilicangelus said.

  My Shieldheart forged on, emphasizing every few words by slapping the back of his hand into an empty palm. “We must maintain clean, professional appearances while walking as if on rice paper. We must come and go like a breeze. We must never leave behind evidence we exist.”

  “Like Men in Black,” Caelum said. “I call Agent C for my codename.”

  Vitae’s displeasure shifted, lifting the building weight of accusations off of my chest.

  I took a breath.

  Thank you, Caelum.

  “Anima is concerned about the growing gaps in our sentry net. The faerie continue to remove the seeds of your essence planted through the city faster than they’re being replaced, blinding us to mischief and worse, stealing souls from Heaven by converting mortals into Fae Kissed. This cannot be allowed to continue.” Vitae focused on Ignis. “Your seeds in particular are heavily depleted.”

  “What do you suggest I do, Vitae?” Ignis asked calmly. “The wafers—”

  “Mortals,” Vitae corrected.

  “Right, we had no reason to expect the Sidhe would do something to actually help the mortals. Their awareness campaign demonizing the perils of ingested smoke came out of nowhere.”

  Caelum snorted. “Out of thin, smoky air as it were.”

  Ignis rolled his eyes. “The faeries don’t even have to remove my ashtrays; the mortals are doing it for them.”

  “Find a new way to seed your essence throughout the city,” Vitae said. “We must be able to feel faerie movements, or we risk ending up with full scale covens of Fae Kissed.”

  Caelum snorted.

  “What exactly do you find humorous?” Vitae asked.

  “That you can’t dress in this century, but we’ve got to be politically correct instead of calling them what they are,” Caelum said.

  “Names have power, little brother,” Terrance said. “You know better than to risk summoning their attention.”

  “A Pyri in my last Shield opened a chain of open grill kebab stands,” Summus said. “She added to our web, and we got to eat what didn’t sell. They were delicious.”

  He’s not as stuffy as Vili. Maybe a younger Praefectus will set a more relaxed tone—maybe even get uptight Vitae to back off.

  Ignis smiled. “Tha—”

  “Thank you, Divine One.” Vitae cut across Ignis. He cleared his throat. “However, this Shield’s failings will not be solved by adding more frivolous activities.”

  I stared at Vitae.

  “Um, you’re welcome.” Summus smiled uncertainly, glancing at Vilicangelus. My hopes the new Divine One would offer us a reprieve from Vitae’s unreasonable, inflexible adherence to the rules died in Summus’s quiet mumble. “Her stands never interfered with her duties...you know, before she died.”

  “We are honored by her courage and praise His mercy that her egg stood between her and final death,” Vitae bowed his head and we all observed silence with him. “Perhaps our Ignis could consult her once her regrowth completes, and she hatches in a century or so. In the meantime, Ignis will need to find other ways to satisfactorily perform his duties.”

  Ignis’ expression remained passive, but tiny glows escaped clenched fingertips.

  “Caelum, your seeds are the second least,” Vitae said.

  Caelum spread his hands. “I’ve got a lot of things on my plate. The city beautification program Summer ‘encouraged’ has the wafers—”

  “Mortals,” Vitae snapped.

  “Yeah, them—they’re removing my tags all over town.”

  “These excuses are unconscionable.” Vitae’s accusing finger swept the garden. “Faerie are running amuck because you are failing at your duties, yet all I get is finger pointing. They’re exploiting the holes in our sensor net and tormenting our charges.” His finger stopped on me, reinforced by a dark expression. “Your little hobbies—”

  I stiffened. “They’re not hobbies. Our jobs keep government agencies off our backs.”

  “If these jobs distract from your duty, then they will be forbidden.”

  An early winter washed through my essence.

  I can’t lose the shop. It’s the only place that’s mine.

  Summus raised a finger.

  Vilicangelus shook his head.

  “How do you expect us to pay our rent then?”

  “You will relocate into headquarters,” Vitae said. “Rededicating yourselves to your duties rather than frivolous pursuits.”

  Thermal vents lazed my essence to the brink of boiling.

  “Move in here with you, Dad?” Caelum asked. “No thanks.”

  Vitae whirled, but Terrance cut across him. “Caelum and Quayla are correct. Moreover, protecting Creation requires we stride its byways. You lost this argument when populations grew larger than could be easily monitored from a high perch, and those numbers have only grown. Your feelings aside, things are not as they once were. We must adapt.”

  I stared at my brothers, my own head of steam waning as they stepped in one at a time to defend me.

  “We have to be part of Mortal civilization,” Ignis said. “How many times did Mare cite a need to live with mortals so that we can understand them?”

  Vitae’s jaw tightened. Spots under his jaw colored, and he turned his anger toward me. “You don’t have to understand them to protect them. You certainly don’t have to engage in fornications.”

  “No, but it is fun,” Caelum said. “You should try it, maybe replace that stick up—”

  “Caelum,” Ignis snapped. “Shut up already. You’re not helping.”

  Part of me wanted to quail under Vitae’s glare, but the support of Ignis and Terrance bolstered my confidence enough to speak my mind. “What are we supposed to do, Vitae? Be like these putti? Unfeeling stone perched on rooftops? No offense, Terrance.”

  Terrance smirked.

  “Not unfeeling, impartial,” Vitae said.

  Now that the words had started, the flow didn’t abate. I shoved an accusing finger at Vitae. “You might be happy sitting up here in your ivory tower reading books and trusting the sentry net, but we actually care. We like the wafers. We know they’re not two-dimensional, not vinyl figures. They’re living, breathing, dynamic individuals, and we need to be near them, close enough to keep up with their rapidly-changing technology with an ear to the ground for trouble.”

  “You were created for a duty!” Vitae thundered. “You are not supposed to be weakening our defense, by spreading your nests—and legs—throughout this city.”

  Caelum placed a restraining hand on me before I’d taken a second step toward Vitae. I didn’t recall my first, nor him moving.

  Vitae ignored my expression and kept speaking. “Your petty indulgences are endangering our existence and our secrets. How many more mortals must burn at the stake for you to learn—”

  A waterfall roared in my ears.

  “Vitae,” Vilicangelus’s tone hardened. “Take care.”

  “All she had to do was let them burn her,” Vitae said. “She’d have been reborn in her nest without costing who knows how many mortals their lives? We are not individuals. We are a Shield, singular, an extens—”

  I shoved Vitae. “You think we don’t know that? I died—”

  Vitae backed up to the fountain but kept his feet. Contempt tainted his words. “You jeopardized everything to protect some filthy s
trays.”

  “God’s creations!” I said. “Aren’t you the phoenix of life? All life? Besides, I was stopping Wyldfae from killing His creation and exposing their existence to the wafers.”

  “Mortals.”

  Caelum drew me gently back away from Vitae and the fountain.

  “Whatever—you know what, that’s the problem too with your little picture of us as gargoyles,” I said.

  “Can we use Batman instead of Gargoyles?” Caelum asked.

  I elbowed him.

  “Fine,” Caelum backed away, hands raised in surrender, “but that cartoon was horrible even with all the Star Trek actors.”

  I resisted the urge to further accost my unfeeling elder and took my temper across the garden to Vilicangelus. “If God is about love, then why are we kept separate? We have souls because He realized without the ability to connect and love the wafers, we’d go the same way as the previous Angelic Host. We’d objectify those around us, think of them as fixtures to be moved on a whim. Why else would He give us souls but that He wanted us to love and be part of Creation—yet we don’t even have names of our own.”

  Vitae interposed himself. “That’s enough, Aquaylae. Your actions prove the reasons why. You’ve let the self-important vanity of this generation corrupt our ideals. It’s bad enough your sloppiness has required Vilicangelus to take time out of his busy—”

  Vilicangelus held up a hand. He stepped around Vitae and set the other on my shoulder. “Aquaylae, beautiful, caring child. You were created with a duty.”

  Vitae glowered down his nose, folding arms across his chest.

  “Duty alone would drive you to serve to the best of your ability,” Vilicangelus said. “He gave you a soul, knowing with it you would go above and beyond your best. You would love Creation with His heart, willing to give absolutely everything in you for it—willing even to face Destruction as Mare did.”

  Vitae’s face grew wooden.

  “We must avoid Lucifer’s path,” Vilicangelus said. “We must not become too full of ourselves. We limit such vanity by being mindful of the purpose of our power without abandoning empathy. It is a delicate balancing act helped by keeping us both part and apart.”