by M. R. Forbes
“That’s Lazar,” she said. “He’ll be Commanding the fodder and the hounds. If we can take him out we may be able to cause enough confusion to disable the other angels before they can recover.”
“That’s the plan?” I asked. “Why don’t I just tap dance in there naked? That would be an easier distraction.”
Rebecca bared her fangs in a twisted smile. “And a much more attractive one,” she replied. “But I think the only demon that would be distracted is me.”
I was able to be embarrassed despite our predicament. I could feel my face turn red. The hallway shook as another blast of energy slammed into the doorway. I looked over at it and noticed there was a small crack beginning to form in the upper left corner. We were running out of time.
I looked back at Rebecca, who was waiting for me to tell her what to do. Her face was fearsome beauty, framed to perfection by the flickering candles behind her. The flickering candles.
“Do fallen angels hate fire as much as heavenly ones?” I asked.
“Hell isn’t all fire and brimstone,” she said. “Of course they do.”
It was the most ambitious demand I had ever made, and Dante’s words were in my mind as I focused. “Bending the universe too much can have catastrophic consequences,” he had written. I didn’t know if I had the power to do this, but I was out of time and feeling desperate. I put my arm around Rebecca and whispered into her ear. “Hold on tight, and don’t move.”
The sound was something like a jet-propelled freight train; an oncoming wave of destruction and power that shook the Monastery with such force that I feared it might collapse. It started with a low rumble at the entrance to the structure, but built momentum in no time as I pulled and pulled on the air and the heat, bringing them to me in a gigantic combustible package.
The demons heard it coming too, but they didn’t understand they were under attack, and couldn’t understand how. They raised their heads to listen but stayed gathered in the dining hall while the fallen angels continued their assault.
They screamed in surprise when the flood of pure flame exploded into the room, filling it in moments with searing heat. The summoned demons were immune, but the weres were vaporized in an instant, and the angels cried out in pain and dropped their own attack while their flesh burned and healed and burned again.
I held Rebecca close to me in a bubble of air that I was holding the flood of flame away from. “Wait here,” I told her. “You’ll die if you go out there.”
She hadn’t realized what I planned to do, and her eyes shifted back to blue and begged me not to do it. “Landon, you can’t survive. You won’t heal fast enough,” she said.
“Maybe, maybe not. If I do nothing I’m guaranteed to fail.” I kissed her on the cheek, let go, and stepped out into the fire.
The pain was intense. My skin started burning and my clothes combusted away to dust in an instant. I pushed my body to heal faster, creating a constant battle of burn and cleanse on my own flesh. My eyes were burning blind, so I had to rely on my senses to see where my enemies were.
I would hit Lazar first, and then the other angels. My hand had melted to the handle of my sword, making it an almost cyborg-like extension. I broke into a run, dashing through the flames, my mind a volatile mixture of pain, calm, chaos, desperation, love, and anger.
I demanded my eyes to heal as I approached the angels, opening them just in time to see Lazar standing in front of me, his body flaming like a Burning Man, fear registering on his face to see me coming at him. He had no time to move before his head was severed clean from his body, the amulet slipping off his neck when the carcass tumbled to the ground. I was standing right in front of the angels’ door now, and I spun around, took a deep breath, and dropped the firestorm, the recession sucking all of the oxygen from the room.
My face was a twisted wreck of pain and glory. I shattered Boot’s sword into six deadly shards and sent them darting forward through the six angels’ crystal amulets, through the six angels’ necks. The blood of the Grail lost, their demon-turned bodies couldn’t recover from the damage of the blades.
I slumped to the ground, the world around me turning fuzzy. I struggled to stay awake, noticing a female shape moving towards me, vaguely understanding that it wasn’t Rebecca, and that I should defend myself. How could I defend myself? I had destroyed my sword. I had liked that sword too.
A clawed hand raked across my cheek, sending me flopping to the floor. The harpy jumped on me, her white fangs a stark contrast against ebony skin. She had a knife in her other hand. I should get her off me. I should do something.
There was an angry hiss, and then her head rolled forward and landed behind me, her body kicked away before it could cover me in blood. Rebecca stood above me, her expression worried despite her empty black eyes. I heard a growl, and then she fell backwards, a huge mass of muscle pouncing on her.
Focus. How could I focus? Everything was moving like mud. Like lightning. My eyes wouldn’t stay straight. My head hurt. Rebecca needed me. I struggled to push myself to a sitting position. Rebecca was wrestling with the hellhound, its jaws snapping at her face, her arms at full extension to hold it back. More demons were coming, more of the harpies, and another hound. I knew there was another hound.
The angels’ massive door began to open, sending a spreading ray of light into the room. I was still lying right in front of it, and it was so bright on the other side. In the doorway was a silhouette. An angel. Its eyes met mine. I knew this one. Josette.
She launched from the doorway like a rocket, her sword coming down on the hound lunging towards me. I hadn’t seen it, would never have been able to stop it. Another angel came out of the door, then another. They assaulted the remaining demons. Josette was at my side.
“Fellow, I did not expect to see you again, much less find you here,” she said.
She was an ethereal sight in a simple long white gown and sandals. She knelt and put her hand on my forehead. The world began to clarify. The other angels were dispatching the second hound, and now they were attacking Rebecca?
“No,” I cried, reaching out for anything I could and sending it banging into the angels. It distracted them enough to allow her to duck around them and run towards us.
“Don’t hurt her,” I said to Josette. I didn’t know if she could or not, but she had six hundred or so years on the vampire, so I assumed she could.
“This one is yours?” she asked, confused. She floated to her feet and held her hand up to the angels. “Stand down,” she said to them.
Rebecca reached my feet and turned. She hadn’t been running from them, but running to reach me, to protect me from them. She hissed when they approached.
“Stand down,” Josette repeated, placing herself between the angels and Rebecca. The angels pulled up. One was older, his hair long and grey, his bare chest lined with scars. The other was younger, with a fresh face and delicate features. He reminded me of the angel I had found dead in the snow.
“Josette,” the older one said. “We’ve discussed this.”
Josette was agitated. “We have done no such thing,” she said. “This man has come here to help us, and you would destroy him and his companion?”
The seraph glowered. “He is no man, Josette. He is a diuscrucis. You know the laws. You have agreed to abide by them.”
They were talking to each other like Rebecca and I weren’t even there. As if they could just decide to kill us and make it so. As if we couldn't resist. I tried to stand, my legs shaky. Rebecca caught me before I could fall.
“Look at him,” Josette said. “Man, diuscrucis, whatever he is, he just about killed himself to save us. I did not agree to return such benevolence with violence, regardless of our laws. The law is short-sighted and flawed if that is how it is intended to be interpreted.”
The comment infuriated the angel. “How dare you,” he cried, the power of his voice shaking the Monastery further, and causing Josette to shy away. “Do you still not understand?” h
e continued, his voice back to a normal volume. “After all of the time we have spent over the last three days speaking of such things? The life a diuscrucis saves today is the life it barters for power tomorrow. That is their history, that is their truth.”
I didn’t appreciate being called ‘it’, and I didn’t appreciate being judged on someone else’s merits.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to get into the conversation. The younger angel looked at me, but the elder was preoccupied with browbeating Josette.
“How do you know they are the same?” Josette asked. “What if you are wrong? Moses, the demons almost broke into our sanctuary! You know what that means. The sanctuary is more important than my life or yours. Landon is a savior.”
It must have been a bad choice of words, because the older angel, Moses, looked ready to tear Josette apart with his bare hands. He raised his sword in front of his face. It was different than the others, older, larger, and simpler. It looked more like a medieval broadsword, and it had few runes along its surface.
“Josette, don’t make me do this,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “You have been granted clemency for your years of loyal and honorable service to our Lord. Please do not turn your back on His forgiveness, on His love. No matter what this diuscrucis does today, if we allow him to survive he will be our destruction, as his predecessor almost was. Please.”
His eyes pleaded with her to join them on their side. Josette looked at me, hanging from Rebecca’s arm. I was only conscious because she had shared her energy with me.
“Josette, it’s okay,” I told her. “Just let the vampire go,” I said to Moses. “She is little threat to you.”
He looked at me, his face empty of emotion. “No demon will leave this Monastery,” he said.
In that moment I realized why Heaven was having such a hard time. It was so ordered, so unbending. It couldn’t adjust. Good was white, and evil was black, end of discussion. Now Josette was caught in the middle because she dared to see gray.
“I’m sorry,” Josette said, still looking at me. Tears poured from her eyes. She stepped away from us, and towards Moses.
“The Lord will forgive me, for he knows my true heart,” she said to Moses. She pulled her sword from the ether and held it out before her. “I do not wish to fight you Moses, but I will not allow you to slaughter those who have done you no harm, and in fact have saved your life. The only perfect being is God, and He did not write this law. We did. I challenge its validity according to the rights bestowed upon me by my consecration.”
Moses took a deep breath and sighed. “Your rights were lost when you Confessed. You know that. You cannot make a formal challenge for seven years. Please do not do this.”
Josette cast one last glance back at us. “You have given me no choices,” she said to Moses, her voice filled with sadness. “I will not let you kill them.”
“Then that is your choice,” he replied.
He wielded the broadsword as if it were a toothpick, holding the massive blade one handed, cutting and slashing with speed, grace, and precision. Josette danced around the older angel, her body a blur as she twirled and twisted away from the sword. She didn’t make any effort to fight back, at least not yet, her size giving her a distinct advantage on the defense.
The younger angel approached us. He handed me a simple white linen robe, which reminded me of my nakedness.
“Thank you,” I said, sliding it on over my head. I was sure Rebecca had noticed me. What did she think about what she had seen? Why did it matter so much?
“My brother,” the angel said. “He was outside.”
I knew the angel had looked familiar. I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“I believe you,” he replied. He paused to think. “You will help us?”
I nodded. “I’ll help you until the balance is restored. After that, I make no promises.”
“Then let us hope Josette wins,” he said. “For I am willing to take my chances.”
The battle was still raging, Josette and Moses continuing their angry dance. Josette had joined the fight in full, adding her weapon to the mix. Their swords were silver rays of light, whistling through the air, crashing into one another, throwing up a shower of sparks. It was impossible to say who was the better fighter, impossible to guess what the outcome would be. The rage shared between them was obvious, their mutual dislike apparent. In a way, it was good to know that even the warriors of God were not immune to such emotions. As Josette had said, they were not perfect.
For every bit of strength the older angel possessed, Josette made up for in agility. The huge broadsword came in at her from every conceivable angle and speed, followed by a foot, a fist, or a knee, and she would dip and dodge and parry without breaking stride, without making a mistake. Moses pressed the attack hard to keep her on the defensive, like he knew that once she had a moment to breathe, she would overtake him.
Just when it seemed as though the fight would continue forever, that is exactly what happened, and a moment later it was over. Moses reached out a little too far, a little too high, and left himself a little too off-balance. Josette pounced on the opening like a cat, springing forward and planting her sword in his stomach and pushing him over with the weight she bore down on it. He hit the earth hard, Josette straddling him like a surfboard, holding the blade in position to prevent him from continuing the fight.
“Yield,” she demanded.
Moses coughed and glared up at her. “You are making a mistake Josette,” he said. “I will not yield.”
She twisted the sword, leading the older angel to wince in pain. “You have lost. Yield, and we will leave this place. The sanctuary will remain safe.”
“I will not yield,” Moses yelled.
He grabbed Josette’s sword by the blade and threw it out of his body, sending the slight angel tumbling backwards. His hands trailing blood, he pounced on her, wrapping his arms around her neck. Josette struggled under his weight, her arms flailing. She sought to gain leverage to get him off, finding it difficult on the blood-slicked floor. Sickened, I pushed against Rebecca, trying to find the strength to come to her aid.
“This is their fight,” Rebecca said, holding me in place. “You cannot intervene.” I stopped squirming.
“I’m sorry Josette,” Moses whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear. Her laboring had ceased, and I wasn’t even sure she was still alive. That was when I noticed the knife.
It was a demon’s blade, obsidian and serrated. It was lying just on the outside of the pentagram that had been scratched into the floor, near a pile of decayed ash that had once been a fallen angel. Josette’s hand was inching towards it, trying to get a hold on it without drawing Moses’ attention. It seemed surreal that it would come down to this, a scene that had been played out in movies that was happening now for real. I focused on the blade, and with the little energy I had left I pushed it, an inch or less. It was enough.
Josette’s fingers wrapped around the handle, and she jerked the blade up and into the back of Moses’ shoulder, burying it deep in his flesh. He cried out in shock and pain, giving her the chance she needed to get her arms under his chest and shove him away. He landed on his feet, pure animosity pouring from him. Josette staggered to a stand.
“How could you?” Moses cried, his bare chest already beginning to show signs of the poison. He turned to the younger angel. “Thomas, holy water.”
Thomas raced back through the doorway into the room Josette had referred to as the sanctuary. Josette walked over to the stricken seraph.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her eyes were wet with tears.
“You should be,” Moses said. He spat blood at her feet. “Your soul is tainted Josette. Since you met this crossbred demon-spawn you have lost your way. Do you think he is the solution to our problems? Do you think he deserves to live while I die?”
His anger turned Josette’s sorrow into an equal rage. Her voice boomed in the gigantic room. “No one deserves to di
e for no reason other than being.” She pointed at Rebecca. “Not even a demon.”
Thomas returned from the sanctuary, racing by us to deliver the holy water to Moses. The older angel’s’ poison was spreading, but he remained strong enough to continue his vitriol.
“You are filth Josette, a sorry excuse for a servant of the Lord. You turn your back on Him because you don’t trust in His plan. You should be grateful to Him, for showing mercy on you after what you did with your own brother.”
It was as though in that moment all of time and space came to a screeching halt. Thomas hit the skids, stopping a good ten feet away from Moses and Josette, his eyes like saucers in response to the elder seraph’s words. Josette’s face drained of all color, and a frightening darkness flashed in her eyes. I remembered what Josette had told me about her brother. I could piece together what she hadn’t. The vampires had thought she was a virgin, and in a sense she was, but for their intents they were wrong.
Josette wrenched the demonic blade from Moses’ back and without hesitation reinserted it into his heart. She pulled it back out, and stabbed him again, and again, and again, the fury of her hurt, guilt, and shame overcoming all other rational thought, overwhelming her spirit of goodness. She sobbed as she punctured him, over and over, brought to a stop only when Thomas grabbed her from behind and held her to him with her back pressed up against his chest. Moses coughed up some blood, his face cracking with poisoned veins, and passed without another word.
“Josette,” Thomas whispered, trying to calm her. “Josette, please it’s me, Thomas.” She flailed and fought, trying to break away, to continue her assault on the now empty form. “Josette.”
I looked at Rebecca and motioned with my head. “We have to help her,” I said.
Rebecca helped me walk over to Josette. Her face was feral, her growls incomprehensible. I reached out and put my hand under her chin, making sure her eyes were in line with mine.
