Angel of Distrust

by Tabitha Barret

  Anjali had intentionally taken her time to sift through the stories because she wasn’t ready to fight a monster without resting for a while. After her battle with the Germanic gods in New York City, she found that she was suffering from the aftereffects of Fenris’ venom. Her nerve endings sometimes tingled and her hands and feet would become numb without warning. She feared that the damage was permanent, but Balthazar and Tristan both assured her that she would get better in time, having suffered from the venom themselves. She was a little slower on her feet and prone to getting headaches. The headaches concerned her since she typically didn’t feel pain unless injured. Her dreams were also more vivid and disturbing. She had somehow remembered killing a Celestial Warrior, though no one had ever mentioned the incident to her. She had decided against bringing up the dream with Gabriel because she wasn’t ready to learn about her dark past.

  Balthazar worked diligently with her to increase her speed and mobility, but she was slow to advance. He finally gave up and taught her how to shoot a gun, swing a sword properly, and punch the correct way. She practiced twice a day with Calin until they were both confident that she was skilled enough to take on an immortal’s grandmother…who was bound to a wheelchair. She didn’t like these new limitations, but accepted that she had to take it a little slower while the damage was being repaired.

  On the upside, she was finally able to spend time with Tristan and Balthazar. There hadn’t been much downtime between fighting the revenants in Portland and stopping the two attempted coups in Hell to get to know the real Balthazar. She enjoyed spending time with her angels and seeing who they were without the influence of their powers altering their personalities.

  After many long talks with Tristan, she discovered that he was very levelheaded and logical, when not being controlled by his fear. At times, he still sounded like an Advocate when he debated how to approach a problem, which she found helpful. They worked together to find ways of controlling his power. He made improvements daily, though he sometimes became nervous and afraid of irrational things without cause. She was patient with him but she didn’t allow him to be distracted by his fears. She often appealed to his logical side to pull him out of his panicked state.

  Balthazar, on the other hand, was still quiet in large crowds, but spoke openly with her when they were alone. He seemed wary of overstepping his bounds and didn’t want to question her in front of the others. He would only make suggestions on matters that he had firsthand knowledge of, or experience with; otherwise, he deferred to Tristan’s opinion. She appreciated that Balthazar respected her authority and was grateful for his advice in private. He took his role of protecting her very seriously, especially after assessing her limitations. He didn’t want her overexerting herself while torturing the prisoners in the Hall of Nightmares, so he accompanied her to ensure that she was safe in the event of another breakout.

  They were all learning to work together and falling into a routine, which was comforting, even though they felt the loss of her wayward angel, Alazar. True to her word, she had banished Alazar for 30 days. He had left without a word and hadn’t tried to communicate with any of them. Though she missed him terribly, she was concerned that he might not be able to return to his duties as her Angel of Death.

  Balthazar had expressed his shock and surprise over the banishment, but agreed that Alazar had greatly changed. He too feared that Death would forever be altered. Balthazar wondered if she had been too harsh in sending him away, but she still believed that it needed to be done. She was afraid of being too soft on Alazar and allowing the problem to fester instead of forcing her angel to decide his fate. Yes, she could have shown him more compassion, but Alazar had lived for centuries with the knowledge that he would one day end the world by her side. She couldn’t have her Predznak fighting with each other or making demands of her. He needed to understand the seriousness of her mission and that she needed angels who were willing to follow her orders, no matter what. If Alazar refused to work with Tristan, it would upset the balance of power and everything would fall apart. She prayed that Alazar made the right decision and came home to her with a renewed sense of purpose because she wasn’t ready to face the alternative of choosing someone to replace him.

  Tristan had offered many times to pledge his loyalty to her, but she had declined his offers. She was confident that he would fulfill his duties as her Angel of Fear, but she needed him to be free from any lingering doubts about pledging himself to her. She felt that it was important to wait until Alazar made his decision to stay by her side or leave her forever. She hadn’t brought up Tristan’s “out clause” yet, wanting to address one problem at a time. If she needed to replace two of her angels at once, it would be harder to round up volunteers after two shows of no confidence in her abilities as a master.

  When she finally ran out of excuses to leave Hell, she reluctantly shut off communication with her Nachtghuls and headed out on her hunting trip. She gave them specific instructions to avoid Hades as much as possible and make excuses for her absence. She promised to touch base with them every 24 hours to assure them that she was safe, but asked them not to reach out to her unless it was critical. Plausible deniability was for the best when dealing with the Council, Hades and Lucifer. She promised not to engage the Harpy without backup, if she found her.

  The Predznak, however, were not told about her mission. They would have insisted on accompanying her, which would have hindered her search. She needed to blend in as much as possible and didn’t want Balthazar tempting any potential witnesses. Aside from keeping them in the dark so that they wouldn’t worry about her, they needed to focus on their own mission. Now that they were mostly in control of their power, the Predznak were needed in the Mortal Realm to tempt the mortals.

  “Senhorita, you look lost, is there some way I can help?” a young man shouted from across the street, pulling her from her thoughts.

  She looked around to make sure there wasn’t some other lost soul wandering the streets until she saw that she was alone.

  “Obrigado, senhor, but I am fine,” she said, thanking him in her Americanized Portuguese accent to go along with her tourist persona, though she could speak and understand the language.

  “Please, senhorita, the streets are not safe for someone as beautiful as you. You need to come indoors,” he replied as he crossed the street.

  She sighed and tried to stay calm. This was not the first young man who had tried to “help her” during her journey. Though most of the men and women she met were very kind and helpful, there were plenty that didn’t understand the term “fuck off”. In the last week, she had used her new punching skills on four different men. One of the men had brazenly grabbed her ass and tried to kiss her in a bar. He left the establishment with a broken wrist. His large friend with the baseball bat, sadly, had not fared as well. He had gone to the surgeon with part of the bat sticking out of his leg. The local law enforcement had considered arresting her until she removed her sunglasses and baseball cap. Once they got a good look at her, they decided that they wanted to date her instead of arrest her. A few groin punches and a left hook straightened out the entire matter and she was able to continue her search for the Harpy.

  By the time the man crossed the street and reached her, she was holding her hand out in front of her to stop him. “I don’t need help,” she stated firmly, though she added a smile at the end to soften her blunt refusal.

  He shook his head. “You do not understand, it’s not safe,” he said sympathetically.

  The man was in his early twenties and wearing jeans and a shirt with a logo from a local beer factory she had passed. His navy blue baseball cap hid his dark shaggy hair.

  “I know it’s not safe,” she said holding out her photo of Derick and his Spirit Expert friend Jocelyn acting silly for the camera. “I’m looking for my missing friend.” She pointed to Jocelyn and held out the photo so that he could get a good look at her. She decided to give him a chance to explain why he felt the need t
o protect her on the off chance that he had some decent information about the monster she was hunting.

  He stopped and glanced at the photo for a moment. “She is very lovely, it is a shame. I have not seen her. I’m sorry that she is missing, but you too are in danger. The sun is setting, and people have been disappearing at night. Your pale skin will attract unwanted notice,” he warned, pointing to her bare arms.

  She wasn’t sure what danger he was alluding to, but she couldn’t detect any lie in his statement.

  “How long have people been disappearing into the night?” she asked.

  He stepped closer and looked over his shoulder to make sure no one overheard him.

  “It started almost two years ago. There were rumors in a few of the nearby towns that women were missing come daybreak. In the beginning, it was one or two women a month. People assumed they had run away from home or left in search of jobs. We thought this town was protected, but now we are having the same problem. No one is sure what is happening. We have done everything we can to keep our wives and daughters safe, but still they go missing. I understand your concern about letting a stranger help you, but I promise that I am looking out for you,” he said taking a step away from her to give her some space.

  She nodded when he spoke about the town being protected. There was a prophet in the city north of here who claimed to be able to speak to God, which was why she was traveling throughout the region. She had heard stories about the holy man from many of the locals. She didn’t have an issue with a prophet in general, as long as he wasn’t lying to his followers and convincing them to travel down a darker path. She hadn’t spoken to God in centuries, so she had no idea if He actually chatted with the mortals or spoke through them. If the prophet was legitimate or even preaching for the right reasons, creatures of evil might be drawn to him, hoping to kill or corrupt him. Coupled with the rumors of people disappearing, it sounded like the perfect spot to find something that needed to be dealt with, even if it wasn’t the Harpy.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I will be moving on from this town shortly. My last lead went cold, so I’m heading on to the next town. Thank you for the warning,” she replied.

  He shifted his feet, uneasy with her vague reply. He looked like he wanted to argue, but she crossed the street before he could come up with a better argument.

  She headed for the closest restaurant and sat down at the first available table. She pulled open the map of the area that a kindly shopkeeper had given her when she told him about Becky. Reviewing the streets, she searched for the best place to be seen by anyone wishing to kidnap her. She needed to be out in the open by nightfall and ready to be captured.

  Finishing the black beans from her feijoada, she settled into her seat. The waiter seemed surprised that she was dining alone and hinted that it was time to get back to wherever she was staying. The danger the young man spoke of had put everyone on alert. A number of women had been escorted out of the restaurant on the arm of family members or boyfriends. It was a shame that they were forced to live in fear. She wondered why the local police weren’t patrolling the streets, searching for the menace, unless they were afraid as well. It was also possible they knew what was happening. She had met enough corrupt officers, regardless of where she traveled, to know that there were plenty of people who only cared about themselves.

  As she stared at the map, a tingle went through her chest. It didn’t feel like the numbness associated with Fenris’ venom; this was different, yet it felt familiar. She’d had the sensation of being watched numerous times since arriving in the area. She felt paranoid for looking over her shoulder every few seconds, but something was wrong. No one knew she was here, so she couldn’t understand the sensation.

  Shaking off the feeling, she looked at her X-Men watch and saw that it was finally late enough to enact her plan.

  By 9:00 PM, the main road of the mountain town had grown quiet, with the exception of the second shift workers headed toward or away from the factories. People were quickly making their way home and vacating the streets. The local shops had closed and appeared vacant in the dim streetlights. The gas station was open, though it looked like the employees were getting ready to shut down for the evening.

  She was the only person stupid enough to be walking around in the dark. Looking down at her brand new short black skirt and purple tank top, she hoped that her friendly stranger was right about her pale skin causing a problem and garnering unwanted attention. She strolled around and waved at the people giving her strange looks as they passed in their cars. Clearly, they had never seen a pretty girl act as bait before. One concerned man yelled at her for being crazy and told her to run home.

  After wandering around for about twenty minutes, she turned the corner and headed toward the produce market. She walked past the pointed metal fence around the market and made her way toward what looked like an American pizza place that was still open. A man on a bicycle nearly rode into a cement wall when he saw her. He swerved at the last second and made the sign of the cross as he passed her.

  It was nice that everyone was concerned for her wellbeing, but it made her even more curious about the menace terrifying the town. Why weren’t these people fighting back? Why didn’t they have a neighborhood watch or something? It was troubling that they were allowing their fear of the unknown to send them diving under their covers.

  When she finally heard footsteps approaching from behind her, she braced herself. She doubted it was the Harpy since they were usually shown flying on their large black wings and scooping up their prey. She assumed that someone else was coming to warn her.

  Reaching the intersection in front of the church, she wasn’t sure if she should keep walking or face whomever was behind her. Her attention was diverted when she saw the young man from earlier coming toward her.

  “Senhorita, I warned you to leave. Why are you still here?” he called out.

  She sighed as she tried to think up a convincing lie. Her thoughts were cut short when someone grabbed her from behind. She tried to elbow him in the ribs, but another set of hands grabbed her legs. A canvas bag was roughly pulled over her head and she was being lifted into the air.

  Pissed that she couldn’t see anything, she was about to call for Balthazar when the young man spoke again, though he was closer this time.

  “I am sorry, senhorita. I did try to warn you. I told them how beautiful you were, but deep down I prayed that you had listened to my warning. I am very sorry, but you should have run,” he said with a sadness in his voice.

  She was surprised that she hadn’t felt any deception in the young man’s words. He was truly sorry for telling the kidnappers about her. Whoever these men were, they must be forcing the young man to act as a scout for them. Once she figured out who these men were and sent them to Hell, she would take a closer look at the young man to see if he was worth saving.

  She stopped struggling when she heard the brakes of a large vehicle squeal next to her. Her back landed with a thud on the metal floor of a van. She stayed still, trying to determine how many men there were. Technically, she could disappear from the van, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know why these men were stealing women from the streets, though she assumed the worst.

  Based on the breathing of the men, there were two by the back door, and one presumably driving the van. She counted backward from one hundred to calm her rage. The darker side of her personality had been begging to take control ever since New York, though she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t spoken of it to anyone, but she could see the concern on the faces of her Nachtghuls. They too saw the Destroyer poking her head out when she was angry. Left unchecked, she feared that the Destroyer would rise and obliterate this town by accident.

  By the time she counted to negative 300, the van stopped. Her rage was still ready to explode, but she decided to wait until she had more information about her captors before she unleashed it on them.

  The men, though silent for the entire ri
de, started shouting to each other when the van door rolled open.

  Someone was ordering them to take her to a barn. The men coordinated their efforts by grabbing her shoulders and legs, even though she didn’t struggle. She heard the sound of a wooden door scraping against a dirt floor and hushed voices somewhere in the musty room. She was unexpectedly dropped on the floor as the sound of footsteps walked away from her. She rolled onto her stomach so that she could pop to her feet, but the bag was removed and someone kicked her in the face with a heavy boot before she could get her bearings.

  She grunted and balled up her fists to retaliate, but couldn’t see through the tears blurring her vision.

  “I thought you were a screamer. It’s a shame that you’re not,” snickered the man who had kicked her.

  Pain radiated through her nose and skull. While she might go easy on the young informant, once she was able to confront the asshole with the boots, she would make him eat his boots, laces and all.

  The doors of the wooden barn slid shut behind the asshole who had kicked her. A young woman only a few years older than her approached from her left and held out a torn cloth to her.

  “It will be okay,” the woman said.

  Anjali got to her knees and took the cloth. She pressed it against her nose and shifted it around to see if it was broken. Thankfully, it was only bruised.

  “Thank you,” she said to the young woman. “Where are we?”

  The woman shrugged. “Hell,” she whispered.

  Anjali almost laughed, but she didn’t want to belittle the woman’s experiences. Taking a better look at her in the dim light streaming through a small grimy window at the top of the room, she could see that the woman’s clothes and face were smudged with dirt. Drops of blood dotted her white eyelet blouse.