by Brian Fuller
She paused, breathing out and bringing her knees up to her chest. Helo glanced at Aclima, whose face was troubled.
“So,” Tela continued, “if it would have stopped there, it wouldn’t be so bad. I guess I should say that seeing the tree comforted me. But as I walk closer to get a better look at the fruit, I hear someone coming and I hide, because the feeling . . . Well, it’s awful. Like waiting for a serial killer.
“These two men, naked and covered in blood, walk up, one from the left and the other from the right. The one on the left has an ax, the other a saw. The one begins chopping at the roots surrounding the tree. The other starts sawing at the branches.” She teared up, hugging her knees tighter. “Sorry,” she said, voice quavering. “With every chop and with every pull and push of the saw, Helo screams, his agony echoing out into the forest and making the branches shake.
“The dream doesn’t last much longer. With every root chopped through, part of the fruit goes dark. With every limb cut down, the same. But the oddest of all is realizing the two bloody men aren’t working with each other but against each other, like a contest to see who can destroy the tree first. Every once in a while there are dark figures lurking in the shadows of the forest who come tear fruit off the tree and smash it to the ground. The dream ends with almost the entire tree dark, save for one branch at the top. That’s it. The next dream’s worse.”
Helo swallowed. Worse? The first dream already had his skin crawling. He shifted in the chair, and it squealed and popped. Tela jumped.
“Sorry,” she said. “That’s the sound the entire forest makes in that dream. Just . . . just awful.”
“We can wait until morning to finish up,” Aclima said, reaching out to touch one of her hands.
“No,” she said. “I think I need to get this out. It might help them stop.”
“How long have you been having these dreams?” Helo asked.
“Every night for the last month or so,” she answered. “The next one actually came before the one I just told you. It only comes every once in a while. Nothing triggers it, as far as I know. The last time I dreamed it was three days ago, I think.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Aclima said, squeezing her hand.
Tela exhaled roughly and swallowed hard. “This one is short, and it’s worse simply because of the feeling that comes with it. I see this hand, red, with skin that looks burnt. I see it touch the lips of a woman, and she kisses the index finger. After the kiss, the end of the finger grows this nail, a claw, really, that is bony and pointy and looks like it belongs on a rotting corpse.
“The hand moves, the single finger pointing out and leading the way. Then Helo is there, chained to the floor of this haunted house–looking place. It’s dark, and lightning flashes through one window. Finally, I can see the silhouette of the owner of the hand and finger, and it is like the devil, with horns and hooves and a body half human, half animal. And then . . .”
She stopped. The tears came now, her face ashen, hands wringing. Helo stood, cursing the noisy chair that made her jump again.
“You know,” she said, bleary eyes on Helo as he made his way over. “That’s the sound the floor makes when the devil-demon thing walks around.”
Helo put his arm around her shoulders, calling upon his Inspire gift. To his vision, Virtus flowed along his arm and into her body as he spoke. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “These nightmares won’t last forever.”
She smiled up at him and grabbed his hand. He kept his gift ignited as she finished.
“The devil thing kneels next to you and drives the nail into your temple. You scream and scream, just like in the other dream. It twists the nail in your head for a while. Then a light, not from the storm, shines in the window. The demon hates it and howls, but before it flees, it breaks the nail off in your head. You keep screaming and thrashing, and this blackness starts running across the veins in your face and neck. The dream ends with you giving up and crying in agony as the blackness spreads all over your body.”
She gripped his hand tighter. “So now you see why I was so messed up earlier.”
“They’re just dreams,” he said, knowing full well they weren’t. “Now that you’ve seen I’m okay, maybe your mind will realize it doesn’t have to worry about Helo any more. Just focus on the dream you had with me and the angel.”
“What was that?” Aclima asked, eyes hard.
Tela explained the dream of the singing angel that had inspired “Never Low,” and Aclima nodded. Something was running through Aclima’s mind, something unpleasant. Tela slumped back, drained.
“Why don’t you get ready for bed,” Aclima said. “Helo and I will stay with you tonight.”
She nodded and hopped off the bed. Helo stopped the flow of Virtus, but Tela gave him a quick hug. “Sorry to dump all that on you just after you show up. You sure you have to leave tomorrow?”
“Yep, but, uh, Danny will be here to keep an eye on things.”
She walked toward the bathroom. “Keep an eye on Angie is about all he ever does,” she said. “Just gotta brush my teeth and I’ll be out.”
Tela closed the bathroom door, and Helo turned back to Aclima, who paced along the far side of the room.
“Wow,” Helo said quietly.
“Wow doesn’t cover it,” Aclima returned in a whisper. “Not even close. You remember when I offered to take you away and hide? Well, you should have said yes. In fact, we should leave tomorrow. If those dreams mean half of what I think they mean, you and anyone who knew you in your mortal life—even in your present life—are in awful danger. That includes cute little Tela. And I don’t mean in danger of dying. I mean in danger of being destroyed.”
“Her dreams are warnings,” he said, keeping his voice low and hoping Tela couldn’t hear what they were saying. “If we can puzzle them out, we can do something. Nothing in visions or dreams is written in stone.”
“That didn’t seem to be your opinion on the plane,” Aclima said matter-of-factly.
“I thought we were moving on.”
“Sorry. You know me. Look,” Aclima said, eyes drilling into his. “Cain has already made it bad. Those dreams mean it’s going to get worse.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. The caller ID said Archus Ramis. He wondered what the head of the Gabriels could possibly want with him personally. He highly doubted he was calling to recruit him back into his division. It was odd that he would call at all, unless . . .
“Who is it?” Aclima asked.
“Ramis,” he said, heart sinking. He pushed the button to accept the call. Something told him Aclima’s prognostication about things getting worse was about to come true.
Chapter 15
Meditation
Helo stepped outside into the crisp night air and closed the door before answering the call.
“This is Helo.”
“Helo, this is Archus Ramis. I felt it was appropriate for me to call you personally to inform you of a change of circumstances in the investigation into your parents’ murders. Your brother, Brandon, who was under our surveillance, was abducted this morning from his apartment in Virginia—”
This morning? “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
Ramis ignored him. “We believe he was abducted by one of the Dread Loremasters, a male. This evening, the police released a statement saying Brandon was the primary suspect in your parents’ murders and was at large. We are doing our best to track his whereabouts.”
“How did he get taken?” Helo asked, realizing his grip on his phone was getting tight enough to bend it. “I thought my family was being watched after!”
“He was taken by force, Helo,” Ramis said, voice changing from toneless to exasperated. “And I will not accept any implication that we were derelict in our duties. I have called you as a courtesy. Under no circumstances are you to come anywhere near this investigation. Your involvement would only compromise the operation and endanger lives. And we certainly don’t n
eed to lose any more Ash Angels on your account.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Ramis?” Helo asked.
The phone went dead, and Helo looked at the screen in disbelief before shoving it into his pocket. Of course Ramis meant Cassandra. Archus Ramis had favored her for some reason, protected and helped her at every turn, even though Cassandra detested him. That Ramis would somehow blame him for her death stunned him. Cassandra had followed Helo to the Tempest of her own free will and against orders. How could Ramis pin her death on anyone but her?
But Brandon!
Helo’s throat constricted. Would Cain murder his brother just to get revenge for stealing his Dread-controlling pendant? His brother had been the one bright spot in his family life when he was a boy—in a brother sort of way that included pranks, teasing, and the occasional fistfight. Even if King’s vision of his brother cheating on him with Terissa was true, he couldn’t let this happen. If there was going to be a rescue mission, Archus Mars had to let Sicarius Nox take it.
He turned to go back into the hotel room but thought better of it. Tela seemed keyed into his moods, and he didn’t want to upset her after she had just finished the harrowing task of reciting her chilling dreams. But he had to do something. He needed a mission, a task, preferably one that involved blowing Dreads back to hell. They had to find Cain before everything Aclima had warned him of came true.
To settle himself, he took a moment to wander the poorly lit environs of the hotel, boots crunching on the gravel. The lateness of the hour had settled the traffic and extinguished the lights in most of the hotel rooms. But the caress of the wind and the serenity of the quiet parking lot couldn’t overcome the fist-clenching need to do something. He would turn himself over to Cain if that would make it stop.
Footsteps behind him turned him around. Aclima had found him. Arms folded, she regarded him with a worried expression.
“I don’t think Tela’s going to go to sleep unless you’re in there,” she said. “What’s happened, Helo?”
“Cain’s got my brother,” Helo said. “Took him right out from under the Gabriels’ noses.”
Aclima’s hand went to her mouth. “I am so sorry.”
There was a yell born of primal anger he wanted to unleash to the sky, but he kept it chained down, locked away, letting it slowly burn within him to give him purpose and direction.
“I’ve got to turn myself over to him,” Helo said. “If it’s revenge on me he wants, then I’ve got to let him have it.”
“No,” Aclima said, eyes hard. She put her hands on his shoulders. “It won’t work.”
“Why?” Helo asked.
“You don’t understand how revenge works for someone born six thousand years ago,” she explained. “In modern culture, revenge is about hurting a person. In ancient times, it was about hurting a family. And revenge wasn’t just about killing. It was about ruining reputations, rewriting history, and spreading false stories until even the cultural memory of the family was corrupt. That is what Cain is doing to you, to everyone connected with you. Even if he killed you, he would keep going until your family was obliterated and shamed in front of the entire world.”
Helo stepped away and ran his hands over the stubbly hair on his head, pacing in a circle and staring at the silent heavens.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” he said. “I have to do something! I can’t stand around and go to dances and hang out at Zion Alpha while Cain destroys me!”
Her eyes softened, and she extended her arms. “The first thing you can do is come here. Please.”
He walked over and she embraced him tightly, pulling his head next to hers. Something inside him wanted to crack, needed to, but he kept it together. He had to be strong. Aclima’s embrace was soft and fervent, and when she pulled away a few moments later, he missed it.
She took his hands. “Now listen, Helo. You will have to let yourself mourn. I know it can be tough to let grief have its way. But for now, there is something you can do. In that terrible hotel room is one young woman whose warped nightmares about you have scared her half out of her mind. She needs a Helo who helps her feel like the boogeyman isn’t going to come out and grab her while she sleeps. Can you do that?”
Helo nodded.
“Good,” Aclima said. “I promise I will help you however I can. I’ve got a call in an hour to help translate Admah’s interrogation. If I learn anything that will help, you will be the first to know, okay?”
“Thanks, Aclima,” Helo said, grateful for her guidance and loyalty. His football coach had always said to take the season one game at a time, and right now his advice made sense. He might not be able to get his hands around Cain’s neck yet, but he could help Tela.
Aclima released his hands. “Well, get in there. I’ve got a few calls to make, and then I’ll follow. Alan’s in there now. Just kick him out.”
Helo wondered why booting Alan out was necessary, but when he went back inside, Alan went out to watch the perimeter from the car without being asked. Tela was sitting up in bed reading something on her phone, but she looked up and smiled at him, eyes red and bleary. Helo tried to keep his expression light despite the weight of his mind.
“There you are,” she said, clicking the phone off. “Was that your boss checking in or something?”
“Something like that,” he replied, sitting in the noisy chair. “Hey, I was wondering if I could give you my phone number so you can call me in case you have any more of those dreams and want to talk it over.”
Her face lit up like Christmas, and she pushed a button to wake up her phone. “That would be great! One sec. Okay, go ahead. I’ll text you after so you can have my number.”
He rattled off the number while her fingers danced over the phone. Then she took a selfie and texted it to him. His phone beeped a few seconds later.
“Got it,” he said.
“I’ll send a better picture tomorrow,” she said. “But, yeah, I’ll be sure to call you if I dream something interesting, and you can call and tell me all about the adventures of Helo the mysterious badass. Or just anything you feel like.”
He chuckled, glad to see a look of contentment spread over her face. She yawned and put her phone on the nightstand.
“Well,” she said, stretching and then lying down, “it’s been a long day. Promise you won’t disappear before I can say goodbye. And leave the lamp on until I go to sleep.”
“Deal,” he said.
She grinned, pulled the blanket to her, and was asleep in minutes. He envied her. Sleep was an escape, a way to forget all the bad for a while. Being eternally awake meant no reprieve from anything tormenting your mind unless you could willfully ignore it.
To pass the time, he searched for news releases about his brother, confirming what Archus Ramis had told him earlier. The reporters said his brother was a dangerous fugitive on the run from police rather than just missing, and he wondered what Cain had done to create the appearance of his brother’s involvement in the murder.
Once he was sure Tela was in a deep sleep, he clicked off the lamp but left the light in the bathroom on with the door open a crack so he could see. Rather than risk the squealing chair frightening Tela out of sleep, he sat with his back against the wall near the bathroom, his shotgun on his lap.
To pass the time, he tried more of Dolorem’s meditation technique. He knew it would be hard. There were too many hurt feelings, too many bumps in the day’s road to empty his mind or his heart as he should. He wrestled for control, and once he got the image of the reflective ball orbiting the burning sun, it again annoyed him that one side of the sphere was forever in the dark. He knew the goal of the exercise was to empty the mind. The ball and the sun merely acted as a focus to keep his mind occupied. Why should he care about one side never receiving the light?
The door to the hotel room creaked open, and Helo opened his eyes. Aclima. At last, maybe some news. She shut the door behind her, scanning the room until she found him. After a glance at Tela, Acli
ma sat down beside him, scooting in close until their shoulders touched.
“Is she asleep?” Aclima whispered.
“Yeah,” he said. “For a while now. How’d the session with Admah go?”
“He wants to make a deal,” she answered quietly, leaning in close, her hair falling over his shoulder. “In exchange for the freedom to disappear into the wild, he promises to show us where Avadan’s prison is. There is a sticking point, however. He refuses to show us on a map. He says the only way he’ll agree is if he guides us there personally.”
“You let him out, he’ll run,” Helo said.
“That’s the worry,” Aclima agreed. “We may be able to contain him, but it’s a huge risk. Still, Avadan’s prison is a big prize, and crossing Avadan off the list would be a severe blow to Cain.”
“You think they’ll do it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Aclima said, laying her head on his shoulder. It was nice. “I’m not in on the deliberations. How’s Tela?”
The pop singer’s face was awash in the amber light of the cheap alarm clock. Her mouth sagged open, and she breathed in deeply, face peaceful.
“Good, I think,” Helo said.
“Well, she’s smitten with you,” Aclima teased.
“She hardly knows me.”
“Ain’t talking about no knowledge, Helo,” Aclima returned, affecting a ridiculous Texas accent and elbowing him in the ribs. “And what did you expect? She’s dreaming horrible dreams about you in pain, bringing out her Florence Nightingale instinct. And then you show up with your jacked-up biceps carrying a big, bad gun doing the bodyguard bit. Even strong, independent women have a hard time not falling for the archetypal protector bit. Too bad she’s not an Ash Angel. I think she’s your type.”
She was trying to drag him back into the stupid conversation about love. Time to divert her attention. “Now that you bring it up,” Helo said, “what kind of guys did you go for? And don’t give me that ‘I’m six thousand years old so I’ve loved all kinds of men’ crap.”
