Of course, he didn't have wings like some people. He stalked along the perimeter, not surprised at all to find no door or gate. Along the way, he pulled a couple of thick ivy vines and looped them over one shoulder to use instead of rope. Closer inspection of the wall showed close-set stones but no mortar. With cracks just wide enough between for fingers and toes to get a grip, Zack began to climb, grimly determined to take Michael down, truss him up, and take him home.
"Oh, my love." Michael rose on leathery wings to hover just over the wall, his laugh cold enough to freeze nitrogen. "You'll have to learn the hard way. Of course, you will. So damn stubborn."
Those huge black wings drew back, blotting out the sun, and swept forward with a rushing boom of displaced air. The resulting wall of air slammed into Zack's chest, breaking his grip. As he fell, another whirlwind struck him, throwing him thirty feet back into the trees. They tried to cradle him, branches catching at him as he fell so he landed nearly on his feet, scratched, sore, but whole.
Fine. Frontal assault without a plan. Not my best idea.
He retreated into his forest to think. Michael had wings, but once snared, Zack was certain he was still the stronger of the two of them. After dark, he had the advantage. Michael had never liked the dark, and his night vision sucked. Yes. Better. Maybe with actual rope for a lasso, in case Michael simply took wing. He was badly shaken but not beaten. Later, he'd have to figure out what to do with the stinking wall, but that would have to wait until Michael was sane again.
* * * * *
The moon set sometime after midnight. Under the heavy blanket of stars, Zack had just enough light to see, where most diurnal creatures would be blind. He hung his bow from the branch of the yew that kept guard over his hunting horn while he was out in the human world.
The horn… he could have used it to call Artemis. Even if his cousin were visiting the human world, she would still hear it and come to him. But, damn it, he could fight his own battles. She was the best, no arguments from him there. Problem was she was as likely to shoot Michael as to help trap him. Certainly wouldn't be the first time she shot first and asked later. The horn would also call his beautiful Arcadian greyhounds, but he didn't want them in harm's way.
Stripped to his boxer briefs, vine rope slung across his body, grappling hook fashioned from a gnarled bit of fallen ironwood, Zack set off at a run toward the invading wall. Here in his own element, he was silent, his feet flying over the uneven ground as sure as any deer.
At the bottom of the wall, he crouched, listening. A few yards to the left, Michael slept atop his monstrous construction, and Zack's chest ached at the familiar, peaceful rhythm of his breaths. That sound should have been in their bed, Michael's head nestled on his pillow, or more often, Zack's, since he rooted closer most nights.
Or he used to.
No, he couldn't think that way. Fear lurked in the corners of his mind, terrible fear that Michael would never come home, that nothing would ever be the same, that he would lose his heart and his reason to live because of the machinations of an unstable, dying goddess. If he gave the fear room to maneuver, it would spread into every corner of his thoughts like invasive weeds and choke him, paralyze him. No. He had to keep going, keep moving. Action drowned fear.
He shook out his impromptu grappling line and swung the hook in a tightly controlled circle before he tossed it at the top of the wall. A soft plink let him know his aim was good, and he tugged carefully until it caught on the edge. A few harder tugs to make certain the hook was settled, and Zack pulled himself up, setting his feet against the rough stone to take some of his weight as he climbed.
When he reached the top, his breath caught hard in his throat. Michael lay on his side, one wing folded against his back, the other draped forward across his body. Despite the leathery wings, he looked like Zack's angel again, his face vulnerable and open in sleep. It gave him hope that his Michael was still in there, simply lost and hurting. Zack silently retrieved his rope and hook and crept to where Michael lay sleeping.
With tears stinging the backs of his eyes, Zack reached out and stroked hair silvered by starlight. He leaned in to wake Michael with a tender kiss, blood thundering in his ears as those soft lips moved under his, responding with familiar warmth and passion.
"I love you, Michael. More than I can ever say," he whispered against Michael's skin, so cold in his stone bed. "Please come home. Please. I can't make it without you."
Michael's eyes flew open on a gasp. He sat up slowly, wrapping his arms around Zack's neck, and lunged in to lock their lips together again, his kisses hungry to the point of desperation. For a brief, bright moment, Zack was certain love alone would be enough. Love conquers all, and by all the ancients, I love him so much it hurts.
The moment shattered when Michael broke their kiss with a soft, arctic laugh. "My darling, my own, you came to me after all. Nice of you to save me the trouble of hunting you down. But we can't go home, not to that ridiculous little house in the human world. This will be our home, Zagreus. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can get on with our lives."
Zack swallowed hard, muscles tensing for the fight he knew was coming. "You loved that house. We've been happy there."
"I was in transition, don't you see?" Michael ran his fingers through Zack's hair, suddenly tightening them in a painful grip. "I know it's a lot to take in. I know. Shh. It's better this way, though. You won't have to be my keeper any more. You won't have to pity me and coddle me."
"I never pitied you. Never."
Michael chuckled. "I don't think you realized you did. It's all right. Now you'll be the consort of a god." He surged forward, pinning Zack against the stones, grinding his hardening cock against Zack's thigh. "Mine. To kneel at my feet and adore me."
"No! Damn it, Michael! Get off!"
Zack yanked a leg free and flipped them, wrestling for position, for enough leverage to secure Michael's hands. They rolled and slid on the wall's broad top, precariously close to the edge several times. Michael slammed a knee up into Zack's groin, but he twisted at the last moment, saving the most vulnerable bits. The blow still hurt like hell, and he roared, adrenaline singing through him as he trapped first one, and then the other of Michael's wrists behind his back.
Chest to chest, they panted in each other's faces, snarling. The impasse lasted only a moment. Michael's grin blossomed suddenly as his wings snapped out behind him. "Oh, my darling, you will learn."
Those huge wings beat downward once, and they both lurched into the air, Zack's legs dangling and throwing off Michael's balance. They dipped in stomach-dropping plunges, and rose again by slow degrees as Michael's wings beat skyward, over the top of the wall, above the highest oaks. Zack clung tight, though gravity worked against him now, making it impossible to keep Michael's arms behind his back. With a sinew-creaking wrench, Michael freed one arm and pulled it out of Zack's reach.
"Michael, don't. You don't want to do this." Zack managed to keep his voice soft, though anger climbed up his throat with his fear. They soared above the treetops now, the wall a child's building block construction far below.
Slowly, with a terrible strength Michael had never possessed even as an angel, he pried Zack's fingers off his wrist and held him suspended by a grip on his right forearm. "I do love you. You know that. But we can't be together again until you know your place."
"Michael! Don't!" Zack made the mistake of looking down. Holy mother of us all.
"Come back to me when you're ready to kneel." Michael smiled, blew him a kiss, and let go.
Falling a short distance is oddly more terrifying than a long one. Over a short distance, the body only has time for that terrible oh, shit moment of the drop before the sickening jolt of contact with the ground. Over a longer distance, without physical references, the sensation of freefall takes hold, an illusion of standing still while the wind rushes past.
Zack had time to watch Michael recede against the stars, farther and farther out of reach, as if h
e watched his lover flying away down a dark passage. Michael hadn't moved from where he hovered, of course, and the illusion soon shattered as Zack crashed through the treetops, his momentum too precipitous for the trees to catch him. Head, back, and limbs all smashed into branch after branch, through the canopy, harder and harder into the larger branches and finally through the scraping, skin-tearing fingers of the understory.
He lay on his back as the stars above faded, his vision darkening as agony wrapped him in its cruel embrace, crueler still since he knew he had failed.
Chapter Six
"Hey. Zackie."
The voice wasn't Michael's, new or old. Something thumped against the sole of his foot.
"Hey."
Zack cracked an eye open. Oh, crap. My head hurts. Everything hurts. My eyelashes hurt, for fuck's sake. He lay on something soft, morning light filtering through the leaves. Someone stood near his feet, and he had to squint to make sense of who it was.
"Artie?"
"Yeah, it's me." Artemis leaned on her silver bow, silver eyes regarding him with what might have been concern. "Starting to think I'd have to get some help out here for you. Nice landing."
"Thanks. How bad?"
She helped him sit up and gave him water from her own flask. "Could be worse. Broken ankle. Broken ribs. Two. Your brain's probably all banged up but that shouldn't slow you down much."
"Great," Zack managed in a dry rasp. "You saw me fall?"
"Was just coming back from the Taiga Forest. Heard a scream. Saw something big and clumsy crash through the trees. Figured the bears hadn't learned to fly, so it was probably you."
"Ha. Funny. Thanks, though, for coming to check."
"Yeah. About that." Artemis settled beside him. "Want to tell me why the wingless flight, and why some damn fallen angel's made a mess of our forest?"
"The damn fallen angel's Michael."
"Not a time for jokes, Zackie."
"Wish it was."
She flipped her single black braid over her shoulder and stared at him, maybe checking for practical joke twitches. "Okay, so spill. From the start."
Because it was Artemis with her calm, no-nonsense demeanor, he was able to get through the whole narrative without choking on his words or breaking down. Anyone watching them would think she wasn't listening, as she stared off into the woods, twirling a dried leaf in her fingers. But she drank in every word, asking soft questions when he had finished.
Finally, she patted his arm. "You're an idiot."
"I know."
"Love isn't always the answer, no matter what the songs say."
He shifted uncomfortably. "But it should be. It should be enough."
"But it isn't, and sometimes it makes things worse. Makes you blind to things you should see. Makes you deny things you know are true. Sometimes when you have a responsibility, you have to get around love and still keep going. It's hard. It hurts." She shrugged. "But it's not always the most important thing."
"What's more important than love?"
She smacked his shoulder. "Keeping your promises. Keeping the things safe that it's your duty to keep safe."
"Yeah. Not doing great on those, either."
"You promised to keep him safe, too. You still have to keep that promise."
Zack winced at the thought of all the Olympians descending on Arcadia to put things right. Despite Michael's new power, he'd end up a smear on the forest floor. "I know."
She chewed on the leaf stem, obviously lost in thought. "You have to rest up a couple of days, anyway. But start thinking, Zackie. Shake the cobwebs off your brain. Think like a hunter."
"Right."
"I'll check on you every few hours, but I have to see what's happening." She rose in one fluid motion, then cocked her head at him. "Maybe think about his first change. How it happened. What happened. I don't know. There has to be something."
"And if there isn't?"
"I'll take care of it if you can't." Her frown said she didn't like that option, but that she would do what she had to.
Zack lay on his bed of moss, staring at the leaves. He had to resolve this before Artemis or any of the family decided to step in. Michael wouldn't survive if they did.
* * * * *
Two days later, Zack met a small, worried contingent in the parking lot of White Clay Creek State Park. While he could walk in and out of Arcadia at any green spot he wished, this was the most convenient for everyone involved. While he recuperated, he'd sent messages back and forth with Artemis, asking the family to gather what he needed.
While he healed quickly in the human world and even faster in his own domain, he still limped. His ribs were still a misery, but he was out of time. Artemis reported ziggurats rising up inside the walls, and she was becoming edgier by the hour, her fingers twitching on her silver bow. Zack couldn't delay any longer.
"But I could help," Dionysus insisted again, as he settled the pack frame on Zack's shoulders. "You know I'm good with the wilderness shit."
"I know. Thanks. I can't… ask anyone to be there for this." Zack pulled his youngest cousin into an awkward one-armed hug. "I got this, Dio. Promise."
Only younger gods were present, Hermes, Dionysus, and Artemis, Zack's favorite cousins whom he could trust not to run to the older gods unless the situation was hopeless, and trust not to interfere if he asked them not to.
Hermes shoulder-bumped Dionysus. "Besides, you'd forget you were supposed to be in stealth mode five minutes in."
"Would not!" Dio was outraged for a third of a second. "Okay, yeah, probably."
Artemis tapped Zack on the forehead. "Think, all right? No more rushing in."
"I got it. Love you guys, but you're a pain in the ass sometimes." Zack gave them a final wave as he limped off into the trees to make the transition back to Arcadia. While they had all wanted to help and Hermes had even offered to lend his winged shoes, Zack needed to do this his way, with the methods and tools in his comfort zone.
Dusk was gathering in Arcadia as he limped toward the ever-growing city bisecting its heart. Zack settled in a thicket within sight of the walls but hidden from above by a thick canopy of blackberry brambles. Here he waited and rested. First light was the best time to catch Michael unaware. He never had been a morning person.
With false dawn shading the sky leaden pewter, one of the nightjars confirmed by dropping an acorn that Michael still slept soundly atop his new ziggurat. He had, according to Artemis, built his first two towers by flying granite blocks in from hell-only-knew-where and assembling them with blinding speed. Clearly, Michael's new wings were more than just wings…
This was the thought that had brought Zack up short a day and a half ago. He mulled through Michael's original fall, all that had occurred, the horror of that moment when the angels had descended on him with blazing swords. Horrible as it was, the solution had presented itself.
Zack just hoped he would be able to do it. The thought alone made him ill.
This was Michael's last chance, though. What he wished and what he must do were about to collide like two runaway Eurostar trains. With a lead ball threatening to drag his heart down to the Underworld, Zack hobbled out of his hiding place and set up his net cannon. It wasn't a precise instrument, but the net opened up to cover a wide area and he had a lot of experience aiming the thing. He whispered a mantra to forgiveness, knowing he might never know its blessing, and loosened his long knife in its sheath.
Dawn began to paint the sky in long veins of red. "Michael, I'm sorry. I wish… I wish I could have done something to stop this sooner."
He dropped to one knee behind the cannon and bellowed, "Michael! Yo, Michael! Time to get up!"
His voice echoed crazily off the walls of New Uruk, ricocheting back at him like shrapnel. For a moment, he wondered if he'd misjudged, if the new Michael might be too wary and suspicious. But no, within two minutes the beating of huge wings floated down to him, Michael's sleep-tousled hair silhouetted against the sky.
"
Zack?" he called down, his voice sleepy and uncertain.
That befuddled morning voice nearly made Zack hesitate a moment too long. He just wanted to take Michael into his arms, huge black wings and all. The moment shattered when Michael's cold, sharp laugh drifted down to him.
"Trying again, love? You really sh—"
With a prayer sent up to the laws of physics, Zack fired the cannon, the net whistling up through the morning mist and spreading out as it flew. If he misjudged the distance, if Michael reacted in time and simply flew higher, he would have lost his first chance. He had other contingency plans, though, rather more horrible ones.
With the first piece of luck to come Zack's way in weeks, Michael turned his head toward the sound and was only able to jerk sideways as the net hit him, tangling in his right wing. Chirping and cawing gathered behind Zack in the trees. The birds were flocking in to watch, perhaps cheering him on or simply curious about the outcome.
"Really, Zagreus? This is the best you could come up with?" Michael tsked in annoyance, struggling to keep aloft as he twisted to grab hold of the net.
Unlike the birds, Zack hadn't simply been watching, though. He pulled back his bow of black yew, held the string at his ear while he aimed, and let fly. Michael shrieked as the arrow flew at him, but with his wing fouled, he was unable to maneuver properly. The shriek turned into a bark of laughter when Zack's arrow only pierced the net.
"I'm so sorry, darling! I think that fall ruined your aim!"
Jaw set in grim determination, Zack wrapped the rope tied to his arrow around his forearm and began to pull, dragging Michael out of the sky. Michael cursed but went back to the task of methodically freeing his wing. If he succeeded before Zack could ground him, Zack had laid out other arrows to use, barbed tipped, hemlock laced, thick-shafted arrows designed to pierce bone if necessary.
No Enemy But Time (A Brandywine Investigations Universe Story) Page 5
