The Daughter of Zion

by Elicia Hyder

  Jett walked and yawned loudly. “Morning.” He did a double take when he saw Rogan. “You’re back.” He crossed the room but quickly stopped short of Rogan. Jett’s face soured. “Whoa. You stink.”

  Rogan shoveled another heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I know. Don’t care.”

  “Jett, how’s Iliana?” I asked.

  “She’s asleep.” He looked relieved. So was I.

  “What happened?” Fury asked.

  Jett walked to the coffee pot. “I’m not really sure, except Taiya came into the infirmary last night to play some game with Anya. When Iliana and I showed up an hour later, Taiya left for bed. As soon as she walked out, Cassiel’s vitals deteriorated. So Iliana brought Taiya back in. Cassiel didn’t get better, but she stopped getting worse so quickly. It was the weirdest thing.”

  The pans under the counter clanged together as Kathy retrieved a second frying pan. “You know…” Her voice was muffled by the cabinets until she stood upright. “Sloan told me Taiya’s mother almost survived the fever. They traveled for several days to try to get here before she died. That’s unheard of for the virus.”

  “I’d forgotten about that,” James said as the bacon started to sizzle. He looked back over his shoulder. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad Iliana was able to get some rest.”

  “Hear, hear.” I sipped my coffee.

  “Warren, you should ask Jett about John’s setup. He’d know better than me,” James said.

  “Setup for what?” Jett asked, pulling out the chair across from Rogan.

  “They were just telling me John is distilling moonshine now,” I said.

  The corners of Jett’s mouth tipped up. “Yeah. I told him he’s turning into a redneck in his old age. Didn’t you smell it when we got there?”

  I thought back to our visit. “All I remember about our arrival was a gun in my face.”

  “That was because we probably interrupted him doing a run.”

  “I figured it was just because he wanted to kill me.”

  “Maybe a bit of that too,” Jett said. “You taking up bootlegging?”

  “I’m wondering if we can use the same process to create crystal water.”

  “Crystal water? I can’t help you there.” Jett leaned his elbows on the table. “Can it be created here on Earth?”

  “Torman thinks so. Will you bring him in here?” I jerked my head toward the hallway. “He’s in the cell.”

  “Sure.” Jett got up and left the room.

  The oven beeped. Kathy handed James her spatula and then carried the baking sheet and hockey pucks to the oven.

  “Kathy, what is that?” I asked.

  “Biscuits. I made them yesterday and froze them so I wouldn’t have to make them again today.”

  My stomach growled again. This time so loud that Fury looked over. She laughed and shook her head.

  Jett returned with Torman. His hands were no longer chained together, but he was wearing the cuffs that would inhibit his powers and drinking the coffee I’d given him.

  He frowned as Jett led him past me. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Food is almost ready,” I replied, annoyed.

  Jett put him in the chair beside Rogan.

  Rogan scowled. “Why by me?”

  “I’m trying to contain the stench to that side of the room,” Jett said, joining me and Fury at the counter.

  “Warren, can you get some plates?” Kathy asked, turning the eggs in the pan. “Upper cabinet by the fridge.”

  I put my coffee down and crossed the room. In the cabinet was a stack of white plates. I placed them carefully on the counter.

  “Thank you, son,” Kathy said, turning off the burner on the stove.

  “Torman, is it possible that, even though Taiya no longer has an angelic spirit, she still carries healing qualities?” I asked, retaking my seat.

  “Of course. All bodies, angel or otherwise, retain some qualities of the spirit, even long after it’s removed. You’re an Angel of Death. Do you not sense bodies buried in the earth?”

  My eyes widened. “Yeah, I do.”

  “You’re not detecting flesh and bone.”

  Interesting.

  “The Father has the same kind of healing qualities, even when he’s in human form. The spirit is not easily removed,” Torman said.

  “He’s on his way here,” I said.

  Gloom flooded Torman’s face. I wondered if this might be the first time since the First Angel War that the two had seen each other.

  “Can the Father make Cassiel better?” Kathy asked.

  Torman took a sip of coffee. “His presence might help, but even he won’t be able to heal her completely. Not with the limitations he puts on himself here. I’m afraid crystal water is her only chance.”

  Kathy wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “What exactly is crystal water?”

  James chuckled as he turned the bacon. “Sounds like angel hooch to me.”

  “I’ve had it, and it kind of is,” Fury said.

  Disgust washed over Kathy’s soft face. “Liquor made from human tears? Sounds evil, if you ask me.”

  “It’s quite the opposite.” Torman put down his coffee. “While crystal water can be used recreationally, it’s vital to all human spirits in Eden. It’s the reason there’s no pain or sadness there. The humans’ tears on Earth are payment for never having to suffer again.”

  The room fell silent.

  “For he has stored my tears in a bottle and counted each and every one,” Kathy mumbled almost to herself. Her hand was over her heart.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “A song my grandmother used to sing when I was a little girl. Saintly woman. She always said God counted our tears and kept them forever.”

  Torman nodded. “In a way, that’s true. Crystal water nourishes the ground and filters into all the water sources. Even the plants release it into the air like oxygen.”

  Kathy looked like she might cry as she filled one of the plates with food. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

  My eyes narrowed. “It is, but it sure as hell doesn’t sound like something the Morning Star would create.”

  Kathy carried the plate to Torman, and he didn’t say thank you.

  “The Morning Star didn’t do it by choice,” Jett said.

  “You knew about this?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know the details, but the Father commanded the Morning Star to create the crystal water.”

  Rogan nodded and picked up his fork again. “It fueled the rebellion that led to the First Angel War.”

  “That sounds more like him.” I drummed my fingers on the countertop. “Torman, can we use something like a distilling setup to create enough crystal water to save Cassiel?”

  He swallowed the bite in his mouth. “Theoretically, it’s not out of the question, but you won’t get enough tears to do it.”

  “What about artificial tears?” James asked.

  “Must be human,” Torman answered.

  Our whole group was quiet. Kathy and James stopped washing the dishes. Even Rogan stopped eating. Torman, apparently, didn’t care. Collecting tears to save Cassiel wasn’t a more worthy cause than filling his belly.

  “How many humans do we have here?” Jett asked.

  I started counting on my fingers. “Fury, James, Kathy, Luca, Kane, Cruz, Lex, and Nash. Taiya is part-human. So nine?”

  “John, if he comes,” James said.

  Fury pointed at Rogan. “Shannon and Reese, when they get back.”

  I held up ten fingers.

  Torman shook his head. “No way that’s enough.”

  “Dr. Swain,” I added. “She’s coming by later today.”

  Fury’s lower jaw fell an inch. “Oh shit. I have an idea.” She looked at me. “How many students did she say would be at her lecture today?”

  “A hundred and fifty, I think.”

  Her eyes widened. “She said it’s brutal. Lots of
tears, I bet.”

  My brow stitched together with doubt. “I don’t see a bunch of college kids getting weepy in class.”

  Fury smiled. “They would if a bunch of angels made them.” She looked over at Torman. “Angels of Ministry can manipulate emotion, right? If they can make humans happy, surely they can make them sad.”

  “My god, Fury, you’re brilliant.” I sat forward on the edge of my stool and grabbed her thigh.

  “Damn,” Jett said, nodding his head with a raised brow and a smile.

  Fury beamed as she awaited Torman’s answer. Even he looked impressed. “Sure, they could do it.”

  She turned to Jett. “How many Angels of Ministry do we have in the area?”

  Jett thought for a moment. “Most are outside Asheville, comforting those who are still losing relatives to Blackmouth Fever, but there are a few here. Ionis could call them in.”

  Rogan raised his spoon. “Hold on. Let’s say you can get a room full of humans to cry. How would you collect their tears? Have us all stand by with paper cups to catch them as they drip off their cheeks?”

  Good question.

  “Give them tissues,” Torman said. “Then soak the tissues in water to release the tears from the fibers. Just like making moonshine mash.”

  “Yeah.” James pointed at Torman. “The water is siphoned off the mash, and that’s what makes the alcohol.”

  “Exactly,” Torman said.

  I split a glance between Jett and James. “Do either of you have a way to contact John?”

  “He has a prepaid cell that’s only for emergencies,” Jett said.

  “Can you get him to come and bring his equipment?”

  He grimaced. “I doubt it, but I’ll try.”

  “So will I,” James added.

  Fury looked at me. “Even I will beg if I have to.”

  I pulled her to me and kissed her.

  When I let go, Jett was watching us. No. He was staring past us toward the door. I looked over as Iliana walked in.

  “Morning,” she said through a yawn. When her mouth closed, her eyes drifted curiously around the room. “What are you guys doing?”

  I squeezed the back of Fury’s neck. “Just another day of trying to save the world.”

  “And my mother”—Jett flashed an approving gaze toward Fury—“has figured out how to save us all.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Are you all right?”

  I looked across the bench seat of the passenger van at Fury. “Yeah, why?”

  She glanced at my knee, which was bouncing up and down. “It feels like an earthquake in here.”

  “Sorry.” I pressed my palms against my thighs. “Just worried about leaving Iliana behind. She’s going to try to summon Sloan and Nathan, so they’ll have to open the protective shutters around Echo-5.”

  “She’ll be fine. She’s with Kane and Jett, and if anything good has come out of all this shit, we now have a few of the enemy’s weapons designed to kill angels, right?”

  “True.”

  I searched the sky. Iliana wasn’t all that worried me. It had been too peaceful since we’d been home. No reinforcement troops had been sent after Kelvin and his crew went MIA. We’d had no trouble getting humans or angels on and off the property. And there’d been zero activity when all of us had left Echo-5 that morning.

  It wasn’t a good sign.

  An old drill sergeant once told me, “There’s only silence on the battlefield for one of two reasons. Either the enemy’s dead, or he’s just reloading. You’d better know which before you stick your head out.”

  The Morning Star certainly wasn’t dead. And if he’d pulled his troops back, that could only mean he was mounting an even bigger attack.

  All of us were vigilant as we rode through the city. Cruz was driving. Reuel was in the passenger’s seat, and Anya and Rogan were sitting behind us. Taiya had tried to come, and she’d cried when I told her she had to stay home.

  On our drive to downtown Asheville, I believed what my friends had told me about the growth of the city since we’d been gone. The interstate now stretched eight lanes across, and all eight lanes were bumper-to-bumper. Corporate buildings dotted what was once undisturbed mountainsides, and skyscrapers had replaced the office buildings along Biltmore Avenue.

  We passed a cluster of brick shops that sparked some memories. One of the stores should have had a black-and-white striped awning, but now it was gone. The sign above the door said “The Holistic Apothecary.”

  It wasn’t until Reuel turned all the way around in the passenger’s seat with his eyes fixed on the building that I remembered what it used to be.

  A bakery.

  “That’s where Brienne’s shop was,” I said.

  Without a response, Reuel looked forward again. His stony silence reminded me that Fury and I weren’t the only ones who’d missed out on a lot here on Earth. Apparently, Reuel had been entertaining a hush-hush romance with a local sweets peddler. For a quick second, I wondered if she’d gone out of business due to lack of his patronage.

  They truly would have been a match made in sugary heaven.

  The heart of downtown was still recognizable. Pack Square was still dominated by a massive stone pillar. The courthouse and Sloan’s old office building still stood. And Tupelo Honey, Sloan’s all-time favorite restaurant, still had a line out the front door.

  The people were also just as diverse, just as eclectic, as they’d always been.

  Only now, there were many more of them.

  Business people sipping coffees. Teenagers on skateboards. Young mothers pushing strollers. Street musicians playing for spare change. There were crew cuts and dreadlocks, power suits and broomstick skirts.

  People had always spoken of the mystical draw of Asheville, but that had never been more true than now that Iliana was here. She was the beacon drawing wandering souls to the mountains.

  We passed a billboard advertising the seventh-annual Asheville Brews-N-Tunes Fest happening this weekend.

  “Asheville Brews-N-Tunes Fest?” I searched my memory. “I think that’s the festival where I first saw Sloan.”

  “Sort of,” Cruz said from the driver’s seat. “The festival changed names and owners several years ago. Sloan was pretty upset about the change when it was announced. We used to go every year. We’d all raise beers to you.”

  I smiled as we turned onto Merrimon Avenue. From there, I recognized nothing until we passed the turnoff to Sloan’s old townhouse. A chill rippled my spine.

  The Asheville University School of Medicine was a shining new campus on the west side of the city. “Damn,” I said, awed as we drove in. “How long has this been here?”

  “It opened this year,” Rogan answered behind us.

  Cruz looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Asheville drew a lot of attention from the medical community when people didn’t get sick here.”

  “Does the doctor know we’re coming?” Fury asked.

  I shook my head.

  Fury pointed past me. “They’re here.”

  I followed the direction of her finger. Ionis and seven Angels of Ministry waited in front of a large white-granite building. The ministry angels were all in spirit form, a typical choice for their choir.

  We parked and walked up the path to meet them.

  Ionis stretched out his arms with a bright smile. “Did I do good, or what?”

  “You did very well,” I said as we approached. “Thank you all for coming.”

  A few of the ministers gave slight nods. Angels without bodies, particularly ministry angels, rarely spoke. Audibly, anyway. These would be no exception.

  But we didn’t need them to speak; we needed them to act.

  Ionis stepped over beside me. “I explained why they’re here, but I wasn’t sure exactly what you needed them to do.”

  One angel floated a few inches in front of the others. He had yellow eyes that set him apart from the rest of the group. Ionis gestured toward him. “Warren, th
is is Shem. He leads the others.”

  “Hello, Shem.”

  He gave absolutely no sign of greeting.

  I moved over in front of them and kept my voice low. “We’re going to be in a classroom with about a hundred and fifty students. They’ll be listening to a lecture dealing with difficult subject matter for humans. Some students will become emotional. Rather than helping them feel better, we need you to make them feel worse. We must collect as many tears as possible.”

  “You got that?” Ionis asked Shem.

  Shem didn’t respond. At all.

  “I think he’s got it,” Ionis said.

  I lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Shall we?” I motioned toward the steps of Norton Hall.

  The ministry angels went ahead of us and floated through the doors like they weren’t closed at all. I tried the handle, but it was locked. As I moved to pass my powers over it, a young guy with a ponytail tapped a card onto a silver card reader. The lock clicked, and he yanked the door open.

  I caught it before it shut. Fury stood beside me as our friends filed inside. She and Kane carried bags full of tissue boxes. I took hers and looked in it. “How many did we get?”

  “Ten boxes. Should be enough, right?”

  “I hope so.”

  Reuel carried in a couple of small metal trashcans.

  “Think this will work?” I asked Fury quietly.

  “Nope.”

  At least she was honest.

  I walked in behind her, letting the door close behind us. Up ahead, Anya led the way, searching the door placards for room 203. We drew curious stares from the college students passing through the halls.

  “This is it,” Anya said over her shoulder. She pulled open a door and went inside. We followed her into a short hallway that turned right, then left and finally led into a large open auditorium. It had stadium seating for the hundred-plus students.

  Dr. Swain spotted me from the front row. Her eyes widened with alarm and she stood.

  “Wait here,” I said to my friends before walking to her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. We were hoping to sit in on your lecture.”

  “Why?”

  “It sounds interesting?” My response didn’t sound much like an answer.