by C. S. Wilde
Because now there was Liam.
“Feels like so long ago since I first walked into the Order’s hall,” she muttered, glancing at the training room’s glassed wall.
The wonder and awe which had been there during her journey as a Guardian now had been replaced by disapproval and disgust.
Ava wanted to save the Order desperately because there were things to be saved; pure things like the angelic devotion to mankind, or the advances and sciences used by the Order which were then carefully introduced into the world of men.
The Order might be crooked, but it still focused on helping humans and improving the world. For that alone, it was worth saving.
“That day when I saw you,” Ezra said, “it was as if the light in me echoed with yours. I can’t explain it.”
“Your light also soothed me. Always did.” Her words shook Ava to her bones, as if there was an answer to an unknown question hidden in them.
The image of Liam, bloodied and dying, flashed in her mind. Shadows wrapped around him, pulling him away from her and into a darkness beyond.
She held the need to scream.
Ezra must’ve sensed her agony because he stepped back with a confused frown. Before Ava could attempt to explain, he said, “Let’s see if we can get those wings of yours working, shall we?”
3
Liam
Sunlight peered through the barred window of Liam’s cell. The irony of a Selfless sleeping in jail wasn’t lost on him, but then again, he wasn’t part of the supernatural police anymore.
Liam grumbled and turned on his bed, facing the sandstone wall. He pulled the blanket over his head.
He could’ve picked any room in the Legion. Jophiel had said so himself, but Liam didn’t want to be near others, especially the priests of the Gray. Humans were frailer than demons and the In-Betweens. He didn’t doubt a few of the Gray could kick his ass on any given day, but they were still human. If he had a demonic fit, they might be harmed.
So the dungeons became his new home, though his cell was never locked.
The place wasn’t all that bad. The sandstone walls and barred windows which opened to ground level took in light well. Fresh air coursed through the corridors, coming from the windows and natural ventilation tubes that cut through the stone.
The sound of water dripping in the distance made for constant background noise, and the scent of wet iron wafted through the place. It added a sour tang to the air, but Liam had gotten used to the smell and the noise by now.
A curtain to block the sunlight would’ve been nice, though.
On his first day here, Liam asked Jal why there weren’t any prisoners.
“We can’t afford to take any,” he’d said, remorse all over him. “Not as things are at the moment.”
Liam rolled in bed, left then right, until he gave up and kicked the blanket away.
Guess sleeping time was over.
Not that he had much sleep anyway. Last night’s events replayed in his mind nonstop. Archie looked at least twenty years younger, and he also had navy dragon-wings attached to his back.
Why did the old man wait so long to show himself?
Archie had begun to apologize, but Liam got up and walked back to the Legion. At some point Jal and his father stopped calling after him.
The darkness hadn’t bothered Liam during the way back, and it had stayed quiet throughout the night. Maybe it pitied him; maybe he pitied himself.
Hells, he was really losing his mind.
He sat up and rubbed his forehead. The scent of brimstone mixed with something spicy came from the cell’s entrance. Like cinnamon burning on lava.
Do not listen, the dark whispered in his ears, lazily waking up. He left us.
Liam raised one eyebrow at Archie, who stood by the cell’s half-open door. He got up and went to him only to slam the bars closed on his father’s face.
The darkness spread through the edges of Liam’s consciousness, shadow tentacles that wrapped around his thoughts and words, dragging him down to an endless deep.
Where were you when we died, Father?
Liam paced around the room, his breathing ragged as he fought the waking darkness that told him he was alone and that he shouldn’t trust Archie or any of those motherfuckers in the Legion—no, in the entire world. There was only the darkness and Liam, and this was how it would always be.
Archie stood outside, his hands gripping the bars. “You gotta let me in, kid.”
If guilt had a tone, it was his.
“It’s not locked,” Liam barked without looking at him, his attention on the barred window. Sunlight stung his eyes, but it felt better than staring at Archie.
Ava left us. So did Father.
Shut the fuck up, he thought back.
The rusty iron door squeaked and steps clicked on the stone floor. Liam kept his back to Archie, but the darkness in him pulsed like a sonar. He didn’t see, but he felt the old man sitting on the stone bench opposite his bed. His father’s face and movements thrummed in the darkness inside him, around him, everywhere.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Archie said. His tone was ragged and tired. It belonged to old man Archie, not this forty-year-old demon in Liam’s cell, this stranger who had abandoned him.
Liam’s breathing echoed inside his eardrums as he pushed the tentacles of darkness away. It didn’t work, of course. If anything, they gripped him harder.
Without turning to Archie, he said through gritted teeth, “You left me.”
“I had to, kid. It was too dangerous.”
“You should’ve told me,” Liam snapped. “You raised me. I’m not just your partner, I’m your son!” He spun around and pointed to the day outside. “It was always you and me against the world. We were a team!”
A moment of silence and then, “I know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“You are my son and always will be.” Archie stood and pointed at him in the same dominant manner. Heck, it was scary how much he’d taken from his father, even if they weren’t biologically related. “But I had to deal with my own darkness. It was imperative that I take on my current mission. As you’ve seen for yourself, the darkness isn’t easy to control; it’s a part of us we never explored before. It took me some time to find myself again.”
He observed Archie’s navy wings wrapped over his shoulders like a cape, and for a split second the old man reminded him of a giant bat or a vampire. Not the real ones but those from the old horror movies.
A hint of sunlight brushed upon the scales and made them gleam a deep blue.
Liam nodded at the wings. “Why are they on display, Archie? Show off or fight?” His answer was silence, so Liam continued. “You ascended quickly. Or is it descended, since we’re all going one floor down?” He scratched his cheeks as a mad laugh burst from his throat, but Liam hadn’t meant to laugh.
The darkness did.
“I had to go on an undercover mission,” Archie explained. “All the shit that’s happening, it hangs on how well my undercover work plays out. That’s why I wasn’t here when you arrived and why I didn’t contact you before.”
“A mission?” Liam frowned. “You abandoned me for a fucking mission?”
Hurt gleamed in Archie’s eyes. His throat bobbed, and he sniffed back tears. He opened his mouth once, twice, but nothing came out. Finally, he managed, “We slay monsters, Liam. We protect the weak and save the world, no matter the cost.”
Liam scoffed, but he understood where Archie was coming from. His father wouldn’t be his hero if he weren’t the type of man who’d sacrifice anything for the greater good.
Still, the darkness wanted Archie to suffer, so the words rushed out of Liam’s throat before he could stop them. “Yeah, tell that to the Cap. She was collateral in your fight for the greater good. We both were.”
Archie bit his lip and looked away. His hero, the unshakable wall who raised him, seemed smaller somehow.
“You think leaving all of yo
u was easy?” he croaked.
Liam slammed a hand on his forehead. A massive hangover had to feel better than this. “I’m sorry. The dark takes over sometimes.”
“It’s not the dark, it’s your dark, kid.” Archie shoved his hands in his black jeans pockets. “Look, you want to join me in this mission? It would be undercover work just like old times. Maybe it will be good for you. And for me too, you know, to have my boy around after so long.”
A beastly growl bubbled in Liam’s throat. “Old times are gone.”
“Clearly.” Archie waved at his own face.
The gray of his hair had become a dirty blonde, and so had his ashen stubble. The deep wrinkles that once marred his face were completely gone.
“Your dark isn’t bad, kid,” Archie continued. “It’s relentless, but it makes you stronger if you overcome it. Insecurity, anger, it’s all part of the package. The good news is that I went through the exact same shit, so I can show you how to control it.” Archie angled his head and observed him. “Do you trust me?”
Liam stood there, pondering what to say. Finally, he nodded.
Archie’s movements were fast, and Liam might’ve tried to dodge the oncoming attack if he believed Archie would actually punch him.
The old man’s fist crashed against his face, sending him back a couple of steps.
Liam leaned on the wall, resting a hand over his throbbing left cheek. “What in all the Hells!”
“You’re a Terror,” Archie said casually, as if hitting Liam had been no big deal. “This means you get extraordinary speed and the power of fire, all from that wild darkness within you. Let’s dig those powers up. What do you say?”
“And fighting will help me control the dark? How?”
Archie shrugged. “Worked for me.”
Liam snorted. Good enough, then.
He sprinted toward his father, a scream erupting from his throat. He kicked Archie’s stomach with the plant of his foot, sending the old man slamming against the opposite wall.
Bits of stone and dust fell over Archie’s wings. Shadows covered them and then the wings disappeared in a fog of darkness. The dust fell on Archie’s black sweater, peppering his black pants.
Fitting clothing for a demon.
“You don’t want to fight anymore?” Liam asked.
“I can take you without them, kid.” Archie brushed off the dirt from his clothes as if Liam’s attack had been nothing. “How’s that voice inside your head?”
Liam skipped a breath because the darkness had silenced. He glared at his hands and feet, feeling for the first time like himself again.
The old man smiled. “Good.”
They walked in circles until Archie charged and punched, but Liam dodged just in time. Archie’s fist met the wall inches from Liam’s face, leaving the deep imprint of his knuckles in the stone.
Liam glared at it. “When did you get so strong?”
Archie cracked his neck left and right, then shrugged. “I’m a Behemoth. Strength is one of our main skills. So is shapeshifting, but let’s leave that for another time.” He raised one finger. “Now, I truly want you to consider joining me. My mission required I infiltrate a demonic faction, and to be here with you, I had to leave my duties. If I brought in a new recruit, I’d get extra points. Also, I’d be able to work with my partner, my son, again. It’s two birds with one stone, really.”
Archie went for a punch but stopped midway and tripped Liam with his leg instead. Damned old man; he caught him off guard.
Liam’s back slammed on the uneven ground, all breath fleeing his lungs. “So …” He coughed. “You assumed I’d say yes to this mission. After all I’ve been through?”
Archie’s gaze softened. “I know you, Liam. Always have.” He motioned to the cell as if there were no walls around them. “You’re stronger than this. How’s the darkness?”
Liam scanned his own mind. “Quiet.”
“Excellent.”
Archie raised his foot to slam it down on Liam’s chest, but Liam rolled out of the way just in time, quickly jumping to his feet.
He raised his fists and shifted his weight, ready to fight.
He felt the darkness inside, but it was razor-focused on Archie. Instead of working against him, the darkness worked with him, making Liam’s instincts sharper, his movements quicker.
He could get used to this.
“Why didn’t you trust me?” Liam asked as he nailed two punches on the old man’s face.
Archie spun, then glared at him in surprise.
“You could’ve let me know you were okay.” Liam hit another punch straight into his jaw. “Hells, have Jophiel tell me, since you couldn’t escape your precious demonic duties.” A jab to his stomach. The old man bent over, failing to put up a fight. “But no, you just treated me like a child. You always do.”
Something broke inside Archie. Liam could see it through those light-gray eyes that had watched him his entire life. And from the pit where Liam’s darkness lived, his own voice hissed, we went too far.
Archie’s eyes glistened as he straightened up. Had Liam’s attacks done nothing to him? “I trust you with my life, kid. Always have, always will. I just wanted a way out for you.”
Liam snorted. “Look how well it turned out.”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “But I’ll make it up to you.” He charged and punched Liam’s stomach.
They clashed against each other, a fury of never-ending attacks. Soon enough, the left side of Liam’s face felt swollen, and his arms and legs hurt. His trunk pulsed where Archie had hit him.
After one calculated strike, he broke the old man’s nose. Before he could jump around and celebrate, a dark fog surged from Archie’s pores, enveloping the wound. After a moment, his nose was healed.
Just like that.
“Hey! Not fair!”
Archie grinned. “Who said anything about fair?”
They kept fighting, and even though Liam’s entire body hurt and he was certain he’d broken a limb or two, he felt free—free in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.
Archie knew he would, of course. The old man spoke “Liam” fluently.
With a kick, Archie slammed him against the left stone wall. A cloud of dirt and debris enveloped Liam, dirt sticking to his skin and clothes.
He barely felt his body as he forced himself to stand straight—actually, it was a miracle he was still standing.
It didn’t last long, though. He fell with his knees on the ground, the piercing sting of bone hitting stone coursing through his kneecaps. Liam broke into violent coughs that splattered blood all over the sandstone.
A cloud of darkness shot from Archie’s fingers and enveloped him. It felt cold to the touch as it wrapped around his ribs, then pushed inside his mouth. Yet Liam could breathe normally, if not for the coughs that threatened to choke him.
Within a moment, all his wounds had healed—inside and outside.
Liam watched his arms, now free of any bruises. “Oh, you will show me how to do this, old man.” He stood and inhaled deeply, feeling better than before.
“It’s a skill you’ll get as soon as you ascend to a Drakar,” Archie explained.
“Isn’t that what Jal is?”
The old man chuckled. “He said you’re besties now because you’re the same type of demon, only with different ascension levels.”
A smile hooked up on the left side of Liam’s cheek.
“He also told me about Ava.” Archie wrapped his hands behind his back. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?”
“She is,” Liam muttered.
The darkness rushed to surface with the fury of a geyser, ripping Liam apart.
She’s nothing!
His entire body cramped from inside as the dark urged him to end Ava, Archie, the godsdamned Legion, and they would burn down the Order, too. They would burn down the entire fucking world.
She left us!
Liam clawed at his temples as a piercing pain impaled
his skull. A low groan escaped his lips, a sound half-man and half-beast.
“Fight it!” Archie yelled from a distance.
Liam couldn’t see him. He could barely open his eyes from all the pain. “I can’t!”
The darkness coursed inside him, burning his veins, sinking into his bones.
She’s nothing!
She’s everything!
“Liam!” He barely registered Archie’s muffled screams.
The darkness spread inside him, and Liam fell on his knees. The deep dark swallowed his jail cell, leaving Liam alone in an unending void that gnawed at him.
It was eerily quiet now.
He looked around. Cold sweat coated his skin, but at least he could think straight.
“Archie? You there?”
Nothing.
A thousand voices hissed across the pitch-black, then gathered into one tone: Ava’s. In the void, she whispered, “We are the monsters.”
Liam screamed if only to drown her voice with his own, to destroy the truth she spoke. The truth he couldn’t understand but already hated.
He screamed until he couldn’t feel his throat anymore.
4
Ava
The training room was set to a sunny mountain weather. Alps peppered with snow decorated the horizon, and a clear blue sky graced the landscape.
Ava inhaled the fresh mountain air as unseen cows mooed in the distance. This virtual setting was so real, she could swear she stood outdoors.
The room was seven stories high, which was why Ezra flew carelessly above. Meanwhile, back in the precincts, the training rooms resembled public school gymnasiums. Lower angels weren’t much better off.
The differences between angelic classes were gargantuan.
Ava’s wings itched and wiggled. The stubborn things never obeyed her commands. Making them disappear into her essence was nearly impossible. Ezra had often used his light to help, but then her wings would pop out at the most inconvenient of times. Like when Ava was giving a lecture to newly formed Guardians and her wings flashed to life, spreading wide. Which would’ve been fine if most wings flashed randomly, but usually angels and demons only revealed their wings if they wanted to fly, show off, fight, or … fuck. The giggling that followed told Ava exactly what her students assumed.
