Torchlighters

by Megan R Miller

  All the way at the bottom, the angel said.

  “You have my word I will as soon as I’ve found what I’m after,” Ely said. “Enough for now?”

  Do not lie to me, the angel said. They will not keep me in my bondage forever.

  “My parents raised me better than to break my word once I’ve given it,” Ely said. “And you have my word.”

  All seventy-seven eyes closed, and the angel vanished.

  The shelves down here weren’t nearly as ostentatious as the ones in the stacks had been. The public part of the library was kept beautiful and grandiose to draw in touring students. Down here, the archives were much more utilitarian. Ely ran her fingers along spines as she read along and tried to get a feel for the organization down here.

  Legislature. Census data. There it was. City planning. It was one of the smaller shelves down here, but she knew she would be able to find what she was looking for here.

  There was a sharp creak that made her hold her breath for a moment. She leaned around the shelf and saw the metal diamonds that were the gate starting to shrink in on themselves as someone opened it up and started to come in. Damn. She thought she’d have had more time than this.

  She skimmed titles quickly, looking for a book that would help. A hand bound volume with a hand-written label declaring it ‘old planning documents’ caught her eye and she grabbed it and shoved it under her coat, pinned between her arm and her side.

  That was about the time the blond mortician from upstairs rounded the corner.

  Now that he was in front of her, she got a better look at him. He had a round face, but he probably wasn’t quite as old as she’d originally guessed. Maybe thirty. His eyes were a pale blue and magnified to at least four times their original size by the fizz bottle lenses of his glasses. His hair was pale and stuck up at odd angles like he’d slept on it funny the night before and not bothered to comb it back down and there was a light dusting of freckles over his cheeks and nose.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here, ma’am,” he said. He sounded a little bit nervous, and he didn’t seem unkind. Ely rolled the situation in her head and responded without missing a beat.

  “I’m not,” she admitted. “I seem to have found myself in a spot of trouble and I needed to look into the structural integrity of several buildings around town to find my way out if it.”

  “Are you even really interested in the medical program?” he asked. So he’d heard. That also meant he knew who she was and he was down here questioning her anyway. That took more spine than she’d initially given him credit for.

  “I am,” she said. “In fact that wasn’t a lie at all, I am keenly interested in learning the surgical arts.”

  She didn’t tell him about how she’d vivisected the rats she caught growing up, or how she’d successfully removed a kidney from one of them, cauterizing the joining points with her own seraph’s fire, and watched it recover in real time. There were rodents all throughout the docks with stitched up scars from Elysia’s tender ministrations. She had gotten very good at taking pieces out without killing them. It was a skill set she would like to have for humans as well.

  Human bodies were harder to come by.

  “Well,” the mortician said, “I’m interested in architecture. And if there’s something you’re trying to figure out, well. I figure I might be able to help.”

  Interesting. It wasn’t something to bring up right away, but if you happened to want human bodies, there were few better places to get them than from a morgue.

  “And if I told you the thing I’m trying to discern is of dubious legality?” Ely asked.

  “I would politely request that you not tell me anything else specific,” he said. “Besides. I kind of figured that much when you told the guy at the desk your name was Trezza. I’m Martin.”

  He extended a hand for her to shake. His right hand. She had the book tucked under her right arm. He seemed to notice her hesitation, but he didn’t drop his hand. Ely held the book in place with her left hand as she shook with him.

  “I have access,” he said. “Whatever it is, if it’s on this level I can check it out. So how about you pass it to me, and we can meet up to discuss it later?”

  “You know where the Nostra Estate is?” Ely asked.

  “It’s one of four manors in city limits,” Martin said. “You can lean out your window without hitting your head on the building next to yours, I’m pretty sure I can find it.”

  They both laughed.

  She stopped at the top of the steps, slipped him the file and waited. He paused, his brow furrowing at her. She smiled.

  “I actually want to go check out some medical texts,” she said. “Go ahead. I’ll see you when we agreed.”

  To make it look real, she stepped out with him and started to peruse the shelves. He lingered by the door talking to the clerk for a moment, and Ely actually took the time to sit down and read for a moment until the clerk stopped being suspicious and she was able to sneak back down the stairs.

  The first floor down was barren and silent. As the angel had promised, it had gone back down to the lower levels. She stopped at the top of the steps and looked down.

  There was no telling how many of these creatures they had bound down there. Anyone else in her position would have been indignant. After all, she was part angel.

  If they had been more cautious they wouldn’t have ended up here, she thought. She started down the steps, her stride light and one hand on the interior spiral of the wall. Her gun would be of no use against these beings.

  The second floor down was quiet and dark, and she continued down the spiral staircase without taking it. On the third, she could see a little bit of light flickering in her peripheral vision and at one point she was almost sure she caught a mouth opening wide. She didn’t falter in her stride and she didn’t spare so much as a look.

  All the way at the bottom, the angel told her. They might be allowed to attack her, but they would never think to if she walked in like she owned the place. That could only last for so long.

  The bottom of the stairwell was lit only by three wisps whose encasements were embedded in the floor. It sent rippling lights up along the walls and gave her the feeling of being under water. The door was closed and very thoroughly locked.

  Seraph’s child, the angel said. In that moment Ely knew it was right behind her.

  “You’re lucky I’m good with locks,” she said, cocking her head at the hole. She drew her picks out of her sleeves and got to work. “Watch my back, if someone else stops me you’re never getting out of here.”

  Right now, you are a treasure to me, the angel told her, and a soft keening filled the room just below the point of being able to actually hear it. Do as you are, and do not look back. I can promise your safety only if you do not look back.

  “I won’t,” she assured him. She sounded perfectly confident. Then the angel’s strange present-and-not-present voice kicked up into a high warble and there was an impact at the top of the stairs. Suddenly keeping her promise was difficult.

  Ely focused on the lock. Even when the room shook. Even when there were crashes and cries. Even when a rope of twitching flesh crept into her peripheral vision. She did not look back.

  The telltale click of the lock coming undone was like a weight off of her shoulders. She felt the warmth and weight of the angel against her back.

  Corinthiel, it said. Free me and no others. Go.

  The whisper of the name gave her more than just the sounds that made it up. She understood it. Corinthiel, the name, the being, the glyphs that comprised it. Ely slipped through the door and shut it behind her.

  The circles here had been made to last. They were carved deep into stone altars with circles in front of them made on moving platforms that could seal and unseal at the will of the summoner. Six of the eight platforms were glowing, and she walked among them looking at the letters.

  Corinthiel was towards the end of the room. Some of the
name glyphs had been scrawled in chalk and paint. Corinthiel’s had been embossed into the marble. They never planned to let this angel free.

  Too useful, she wondered? Too powerful? Too dangerous?

  Not to her. He’d promised not to harm her.

  And, an intrusive thought pressed at the back of her mind, had he promised not to harm her family?

  No, she thought. No he hadn’t. But if he stabbed her in the back after a favor like this she would give him a fate worse than protecting a library. She had his name from his own mind. He had given her power over him in exchange for his freedom.

  There was something important in honoring that.

  Now, Ely did draw her gun. She aimed it at the curve of one of the arterial lines of the summoning circle, and fired. A rush of air like static went out from the marble alter and for a moment her ears rang with the reverb of the shot.

  Corinthiel was beside her. She could tell from her peripheral vision that he was no longer a ring of arms, though he still seemed to have too many eyes and a shape that was not entirely human. In her periphery he appeared to be a pillar of light.

  One last favor, he said, for my kind friend. Seraph’s child. Close your eyes.

  She did. In a burst of energy the pressure in the air changed. Her ears popped and it was suddenly very cold.

  Corinthiel spoke to her again, but this time he sounded very far away and she knew she wouldn’t see him again until she called him on purpose.

  Thank you.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Black Water

  “Here are some things they won’t tell you folks unless you go to one of those upper class schools; how to protect yourself against outsiders.

  For afrite and rhakshasa it’s as easy as not getting set on fire. The half-breeds anyway. You see a full blooded rhakshasa on the loose, you walk away. Don’t run. Never run from anything from another plane, all it does is attract their attention. You walk, hide, and pray it goes for someone else first.

  Contrary to popular belief, preta only devour the flesh of the dead so if your neighbor keels over and shows up the next day, don’t worry your pretty head about it.

  Asura have a pretty obvious threat range with those arms. Four to eight, depending on the power of the thing. And I know it only looks like they have two eyes, people, but even if you’re standing behind it, it can still see you. That’s important, don’t forget it.

  Concubi, though…

  I can already hear some of the less mature folks listening out there making a joke about not getting what you were expecting in bed, but let’s be real. Not all of them can shift that way. Not even most of them. The real threat is what a concubus can do with its magic.

  All it takes is that spark of attraction and you’re dragged under. You want to take one as a lover you make damn sure you can trust them not to abuse your faith in them.

  Oh, and in case you were wondering? Love is a good defense. It’s harder for a concubus to grab your mind and hold on when it’s on somebody else, after all.

  Stay warm out there, stay safe and stay vigilant. The night has many secrets ready to pounce on the unwary.”

  The hammering sound against the door echoed over the entryway and Ophelia Trezza strode to answer. It had been a rough couple of days, and whoever was knocking on the other side sounded like they meant business. She felt a burning in her chest. Whatever business they meant, they had better be serious about it or be ready to back down.

  She opened the door and found herself face to face with the Captain of the Hellwatch.

  “Barghest,” she said. The word was clipped. There was a moment of surprise on his face when she answered and that only made the bitter heat in her chest flare harder. This was, and always had been, her house. Why shouldn’t she answer the door?

  “Ophelia,” he said. She kept her jaw clenched and watched him. “May I come in? I have something I need to discuss with you regarding an incident just off of Gate Street.”

  “An incident?” she asked.

  “We have reason to believe one of your affiliates might have been involved,” Barghest said. He put a stress on the word ‘affiliates’, like they both knew what he meant and the truth was something dirty.

  “You’re going to come in here and accuse my family of something right after my son died?” she asked, incredulously.

  “There were bodies,” Barghest said. “You’ve done the job before, you know your boy’s death makes your family more suspect than otherwise. It’s a strong motive. Let me in and talk to me so I can rule you out.”

  She took a step back from the door and nodded him in. He ducked to get through the door and shut it quietly behind him. Barghest was a big man, in and out of armor. They stood awkwardly together in her foyer.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to do this right now of all times,” she said.

  “Where were you yesterday evening?” Barghest asked.

  “I was here,” she said. “I was taking care of my daughter and doing my best to console my grieving husband. I spent a little bit of time walking the docks before that and Joey was with me.”

  “But you don’t know where your son was?” he asked.

  “Six feet under,” Ophelia said, meeting his eyes now. “Where the Gaters put him.”

  She knew he didn’t mean Callum. It didn’t matter. Her body was tensing around a thread of anger with no direction. Barghest walked in and just made himself a convenient target.

  “Sam,” Barghest said. “I mean Sam. Where was he last evening?”

  “I’m sure you’ll have to ask him,” Ophelia said. “Assuming he’s willing to talk to you at all. He’s upset. He’s grieving. We all are.”

  “I see you’re going to make this difficult,” he said. He set his jaw. She’d seen him do that before, a long time ago. It was both a comfort and a source of irritation that some things never changed. “Yes, I will need to speak with him assuming you don’t know where he was yesterday evening.”

  “He’s been locking himself in his room a lot the past couple of days,” Ophelia said. “It’s almost as though he’s mourning and isolating himself to deal with that, isn’t it?”

  “Ophelia,” Barghest said. She met his eyes and the coldness she felt must have come through her gaze because he stopped in his tracks.

  “I know,” she said. “I know you still have a job to do. I know that you have rounds to make. You’re right, I’ve done the job. Couldn’t it wait? Couldn’t you just go and give me my time to grieve and get over all of this before you start in on me? Haven’t we been through enough for a couple of days?”

  “I know you’ve been through a lot. If we can just get this out of the way then you can get on with what you need to get on with and I can get on with the job,” he said. “I came personally because I’m the only person I trust to handle this with a bit of care.”

  “Well,” Ophelia said, “he isn’t here right now. But this is Sam we’re talking about. He has never in his life been confrontational and you know as well as I do that he didn’t do whatever it is you think he did.”

  “Whether that’s true or not, you know I can’t lie about this. I just need to talk to him so I can say that I talked to him,” Barghest said.

  “So do you intend to wait or would you rather he come meet you at the station?” she asked, raising a brow.

  “I’m sure I’m the last person you want sticking around your house right now,” he said.

  “And I’m equally sure you wouldn’t spend more time here than you had to,” she said.

  “So…when you see him send him my way, or call me and I’ll come talk to him if that’s what needs to happen,” he said.

  “Fine,” she said. “Fine, I can do that.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danny hovering in the doorway under the stairs. Barghest was already heading for the door. He paused there, looking back at her, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something.

  Whatever it was, she never found out for sur
e. He clearly thought better of it as he shook his head and shut the door between them.

  Danny waited until Barghest’s heavy stride had faded down the walkway before he emerged into the foyer.

  “Hellhound making trouble?” Danny asked.

  “He had questions,” Ophelia said, turning to face him. “He needs to ask Sam some questions. I need to ask Sam some questions before he gets the chance to.”

  “Damn,” Danny said. “You really think he did it.”

  “I think he’s his father’s son and grief does things to a person,” Ophelia said.

  “You’ve got that look, sis,” Danny said, nudging her a little with his elbow. Ophelia looked up at him. He’d always been a good brother. He’d taken it in stride when she became his sister-in-law, and ever since then she’d been a part of the family to him, no questions asked. “You keep staring at the rug and you’re fighting to keep your voice level. You’re angry and you don’t want me to know, but I’ve known you too long for that.”

  “Barghest isn’t a bad person,” she said. “He’s a good watchman. He’s fair. I hate what he’s doing right now, but I’m self aware enough to know that’s not his fault and he still has to be the Hellwatch Captain.”

  “Yeah,” Danny said, “and you still have to be Lady Trezza.”

  She knew what he meant. She had to protect her family and she had to protect their interests. If Sam had killed some Gaters that was hardly a crime as far as the family was concerned, but Barghest could scent out a lie from a mile away and Sam…

  Sam had an honest face.

  She should have lied, herself, and said she’d been with him as well. She always had so much trouble with that when it came to Barghest.

  “Try to ease down,” Danny said. “Joey will take him when it’s time to go and talk to the dogs, he’s not going to face this alone.”