Giselle took a deep breath, looking at her hip. Her sword still hung there, polished and reflecting the light of the Lucifer’s fire. She shivered. This wasn’t for the Lucifer. This was for Armand. For Manas. “Yes. Option three. I will be your bait.”
He chuckled. “Perfect.”
* * * *
They were still in the southern United States, she knew that much. They were in a pine forest though, fragrant with sunlit needles. She could also smell the musk of swamp water. Giselle stood fast, waiting. The Lucifer had said if she just stood in one area for long enough, Cyrene would find her eventually. If she moved from the area, they had agreed he could take that as permission to deliver her to her superiors.
“What about the Messiah?” she asked, “Did he condone this?”
The Lucifer chuckled. “The Messiah is a lot like The Lucifer. We don’t give a damn, so to speak, about the little things. He’s probably too busy trying to keep the balance in order.”
Giselle sighed. He was right, of course. Though the Lucifer took an interest in the balance, in the end it was down to The Messiah to keep it steady, and if rumor was to be believed, that was getting more and more challenging. Still, it stung she could be forgotten, their lives could be laid down into option one, two, or three. So she stood where she was and hoped Cyrene at least found her soon.
The forest went silent. Giselle drew a breath and felt out, as Armand had described in Las Vegas, for the miasma of madness. She licked her lips. Yes, now that she had felt it once, it was impossible to miss. She was here. Slowly, Giselle drew her sword.
“There you are, little miss.” Cyrene’s voice was rougher than it had been last they met, and Giselle frowned. With one powerful swoop of the wings, she took to the air, just as Cyrene lunged. She pulled up her feet and Cyrene passed beneath. “I’m amazed you’re alone. The boy abandon you?”
She made kissing noises as she turned around, and Giselle caught her breath.
Damned had a tendency to look flashy, but Cyrene just looked ill. Her skin was ashen, her eyes sunken. She’d looked bad in Nevada, now she was practically a walking corpse. How could a Damned of such power look so terrible?
“No.” Giselle stayed in the air. She just had to wait for the Lucifer to come in, and she was released, free to go, even if she never engaged the other woman. She had to keep her talking. “You look awful. What’s happened to you?”
Cyrene sneered. “How sweet of you to ask.”
She put a hand to one of the long, straight pine trunks and pushed. Giselle had to make a quick aerial turn to avoid the wood. Cyrene head twitched to one side, and she growled. “Shut up. I’m Damned.”
“No, Cyrene,” Giselle was curious. She hadn’t said anything. And she certainly was aware Cyrene was a Damned. Who was Cyrene talking to? “No Damned should look as you do.”
“You’re right,” Cyrene snapped, and leapt against the still swaying trunk. A whip cracked next to Giselle’s ear. Giselle dodged her attack, then another, and climbed higher. Cyrene stayed attached to a tree trunk, shaking her head again. “No Damned should look like me. You hear that?”
Giselle frowned. Of course she’d heard that. Was the Damned truly mad, then? Her distraction cost her a moment, which Cyrene used with a whoop, the whip lashing out again, and only a quick motion of her sword saved Giselle from a wound. But her sword had been caught, the black shadow of a whip tugging at the steel, insistent, powerful.
“Come on, little birdy.” Cyrene giggled. “Come to the ground with me.”
Giselle growled as Cyrene began to climb down the tree, yanking her along inch by inch.
“Or you could let go of the sword. That would be fine too.”
“You wish.” Giselle muttered. Where was the Lucifer?
Finally, Cyrene reached the ground, chuckling darkly.
“Oh yes.” She began to reel the whip in, sing-songing. “I caught me an Angel, and I’m going to eat her up, and I’m going to laugh at you…and laugh and laugh…”
Giselle pumped her wings, trying to get Cyrene off the ground, but she didn’t budge. Giselle chewed a lip. This was the perfect distraction, where was he? She could let go of the sword, or possibly point it down and let the whip slip off but until the last moment…
It happened so quickly Giselle could understand how she had been kidnapped beneath Eli and Samantha’s noses. A portal opened to Cyrene’s right and out flashed a great blotch of darkness which pinned the Damned woman to the ground. The whip dissipated and suddenly Giselle was twenty feet above the ground with only one flap. She breathed in relief, hanging in the air and watching the Lucifer tie Cyrene to the ground.
“Thank you for your assistance, Angel,” he said, voice carrying up to where she hovered.
Cyrene shuddered and writhed beneath him, but the Lucifer’s soul bonds were far too powerful, and her wrists were bound at either side of her head. “You may go now. I believe your friends are in New Orleans, roughly a day south west of here. Fly up, find the nearest highway and you’ll be off.”
“Traitor,” Cyrene finally screamed. “You would give and then take away.”
“I only gave because I thought you would lose them anyway. On the bright side, I get to use this delectable body again.”
Giselle lost her breath. He what? The Lucifer didn’t pay her any attention, but Cyrene began to scream and twist, desperately trying to get free of her bonds. “No,” she screamed, “No, they’re mine. They’re mine now!”
“They were never yours,” the Lucifer replied, and shifted, tugging at her shirt.
Giselle could hardly believe her eyes. What in the name of heavens was he doing? How would raping her help? Then again why should she feel any empathy for a woman who had effectively killed Armand, and then tortured her with his dying body? She should leave now.
Cyrene screeched again. “No, no!”
“Quiet.” The Lucifer slapped her, and dug four claws along her jawline. Giselle swallowed as Cyrene fell silent and whimpering, spitting blood and laying still. “Better.”
He continued to tug at her vest, shredding the fabric until it fell open and then unbuttoned her shirt. “At the least, I’ll leave you your shirt. Aren’t I kind?”
She didn’t reply, nor did she move. Giselle could only hear faint weeping, soft words garbled by what must have been quite a bit of blood. Enemy of my enemy, Giselle thought to herself. She should go. There was no reason to stop the Lucifer if he was going to stop Cyrene. Even if his methods were clearly cruel beyond measure. Even if his intentions reminded her too strongly of what her kin had undergone in the revolts which she and Armand had fled from.
Cyrene spit and cried out as the Lucifer opened her shirt, writhing again as he touched her stomach and chest. “You know how this works, Cyrene. You were perfectly willing the first time.”
“I-Illuminate…” Cyrene whispered, shuddering and squeezing her eyes shut.
Giselle tried to turn around before the Lucifer opened Cyrene’s bra, but the word gave her pause and she stopped. What had she said?
Cyrene licked her lips, voice warbling in pain. “Illuminate!”
“Yes, sweetheart,” the Lucifer muttered.
Giselle was frozen in place. Why that word? Why that specific word, right now? She stared, and Cyrene turned her head.
“Illuminate the…greater error…”
The world fell out beneath Giselle’s feet. No. She couldn’t have heard that right.
Cyrene sobbed, not even fighting the Lucifer’s busy hands at her pants. “Illuminate the greater error…”
Giselle stared at the woman thrashing twenty feet below her, breathing hard in horror. She knew those words. Every Angel knew those words to their core, and no other could possibly know them. Secrets got loose, secrets were different. Those words weren’t just secret, they were rare. Unbidden, she remembered Armand’s words only a few days previous. If we have to withstand hell to ascend, what do they have to withstand to be driven to hell? Those words were
spoken at one time and one time only. The blessings of an Angel’s wings, at ascension. No other time, no other place.
“No, stop! Illuminate….” Cyrene was wracked with tears, gasping and shaking. “The greater error!”
How did she know? And where was the second line in the couplet? Was she just forgetting to speak it? Or had she never heard those words and been blessed? Giselle watched, but the second set of words never found Cyrene’s lips, only repeating the first, over and over, desperately, like a prayer.
“Illuminate the greater error…”
She could not let this happen as she watched! Cyrene’s previous actions did not make it right, and that the Lucifer would kill her for interfering meant nothing! What had she sworn to do?
“Illuminate the greater error…”
Giselle took a breath. The Lucifer was disrobing himself now. No. She had not understood the words before, and thus she had always been a mean Angel. Training had done nothing, attempting to break her bond with Armand had done nothing. This though, now she understood what the second line had meant.
“Illuminate the greater error…”
Error had been made. Giselle drew her sword, raised it high, finishing the couplet as Cyrene could not. “Serve the world without your terror!”
The Lucifer had not realized she was there, or had not expected Cyrene’s words to make a difference, and looked up in shock as Giselle barreled forward.
“What are you doing, Angel?” he snarled as he caught the blade. “I allowed you to betray your cause, and this is how you repay me?”
She pulled back, righteous fury boiling in her heart and spilling onto her skin as it never had before. Her wings blazed with light as she thought of his words, the way he held Cyrene, shrieking and crying for mercy. This was not the way a leader treated their subjects, regardless of their loyalty or sanity.
“I may have betrayed my cause…”
She splayed her feathers, allowing the light of justice to blind him and bathe Cyrene. There was a sudden shower of light, but it was bright and freeing, so she ignored it and shot forward, slicing her sword across the Lucifer’s belly.
“But I have not betrayed my heart!”
Caught by surprise at the sight of his own blood against an angelic blade, the Lucifer took just a moment too long to get his guard up as Giselle pulled back her sword and kicked him directly in the chest, knocking him to the ground with a surprised grunt.
“What the–”
Cyrene screeched in triumph. Giselle jumped back, readying herself for the Lucifer’s counter attack. As she sank into a guard position, all she could see was Cyrene flailing on the ground and the Lucifer struggling with her. She gasped. The soul bonds holding Cyrene down were broken, and the Damned woman was now grappling with the Lucifer.
“Cyrene!” he shouted. “Get a hold on yourself. I am saving you!”
“You are raping me,” Cyrene screeched in return. “I told you, months ago, fool. I told you. The Angel Samael could not break me!”
“He didn’t want to break you,” the Lucifer snarled in return, cuffing her back. “He wanted to enslave you!”
“And he could not do that either. I told you!”
Cyrene shot back up, grabbing the Lucifer’s head in both hands and sank her claws in the dome of his skull. She shoved him to the ground and leaned in, hissing. “You. Are. Nothing!” Cyrene jerked, and Giselle gasped as she twisted and wrenched. The Lucifer’s head came free with a sickening crack.
There was a moment of silence, and suddenly the world fell sideways. Giselle swayed in dizziness, feeling faint. What had she done? What had just happened? There was a great rumble around them, a faint shiver in the air which forced Giselle to one knee in wooziness. Cyrene fell to her hands and knees, Giselle could head her crying, moaning. “No, no, no, Illuminate…Illuminate…Illuminate.” She groaned, thrashing.
Giselle fell forward, crawling to Cyrene. “Serve the world without your terror,” she said. “That’s the other part. That’s the balm, the part you’re missing.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Cyrene heaved, shaking. “My balm is gone forever. I only have the curse. It doesn’t matter. Run, run…” She rubbed her hands, staring at them.
“Who is Samael?” Giselle asked. It was important. She knew it was. “Who was he?”
Cyrene caught her breath, gulping back what looked like a vomit. “My curse.”
“Then who is your balm? I will find them.”
Cyrene wailed, scrubbing her hands on her ragged pant legs. “No. No, Samael must not find him. You can’t.”
“Please,” Giselle begged. “I can help you.”
She reached out to touch her, but Cyrene shivered away, finally turning her face to look. Giselle swallowed as the damned’s eyes rolled in fear. “Who?” she urged.
Cyrene’s face softened, and for a moment, Giselle fancied she saw a different woman, dark of hair and skin. It snapped back in a moment. “Aristaeus. His name is Aristaeus. But I know he is gone. I–” She gasped, staring at her shaking hands. “I killed him myself.”
She coughed, sobbed, reached up a weak arm to push Giselle away. “Run, Angel. Run before I lose my mind again. Run before I destroy this place and slather ruin upon the world. Run before the Lucifer’s death catches up to me. You saved me. You do not deserve death at my hands. Run, run.”
“But you–”
Cyrene turned her face to her, and Giselle saw the fire of hell in her eyes. “Run!”
Gasping for breath, Giselle took up her sword and ran, taking wing just as the earth roared, crumbling beneath her feet to swallow Cyrene whole.
* * * *
Bourbon Street was fairly tame at eleven in the morning, Samantha mused. People walked around in shorts and sun visors, pointing at the balconies used during Mardi Gras. Some sipped drinks from plastic cups or variously shaped novelties. It was fairly clean, and the mini-burgers from the fast-food place up the street certainly made the mood tolerable at least.
Samantha studied Armand, or whatever he was calling himself. Given it had been almost sixteen hours since Giselle was kidnapped, he seemed to be doing rather well. They’d decided to get a hotel near the place she’d disappeared, just in case she popped up there again, but when morning came and Giselle was still gone, they opted to move on. Giselle knew where they were headed. If they were lucky, she might even be there.
“Well. That’s unsubtle.”
Samantha glanced over to look at where Eli was pointing. Sure enough, a shop along the wall of the Bourbon Street front opened on to a wooden disk and the words ‘House of Voodoo, Strange talismans, Strange artifacts’. She raised an eyebrow. “Hiding in plain sight, as it were.”
Armand didn’t comment, walking up the two steps and in, with Eli and Samantha soon after. It was cool, and a few other customers poked around the variety of items. Samantha glanced around, frowning faintly. Had her mother once stood here, three months pregnant and ignorant of her fate? Had her father made a silly face with one of the masks? Probably. She didn’t have the heart to rouse her mother and ask.
The young creole woman at the counter didn’t look up at first, polishing a few stones with a bored expression. As Samantha moved over though she sat up straight and looked right at her. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m sorry. Were you the appointment to get your fortune read?”
The tourists glanced over but went right back to their browsing, and Samantha had to take a moment to recover from her surprise. “Um. Yes? Me and my–”
“Your husband and two friends, about your business venture. Yes, she’s ready for you.” The girl jumped off her stool, brushing her hands off on her jeans and smoothing her blouse. “Ya’ll, I’ll be right back, just going to take these folks up for their appointment.” She flashed the tourists a winning smile. They nodded.
Samantha blinked. She looked at Eli, who shrugged, and the three of them followed the woman up a narrow set of stairs and into an apartment. “Memaw!” she called. “You
said something about four visitors this morning…um…here’s three...”
“I hear you, baby, and the fourth is merely late.” Soft white curls clung to the crown of the woman who slowly walked in to the living room. “Good catch, dear. You felt them, didn’t you?”
The younger woman nodded, glancing at Eli and Samantha a little wide-eyed. “Like I’d just touched a live wire, ma’am.”
“Good girl. Go see to the store, and have a mind to the phone. I might have some errands.”
“Yes’m.” She looked at Eli and Samantha and waved shyly. “It’s…nice to meet you,” she said, and then turned and slipped through the door again.
“Well, well. Samantha Parker. It’s been awhile.”
Samantha tilted her head, studying the stooped, dark skinned woman. “I…didn’t think we’ve ever met.”
“Not while you were conscious of it. I chased your mother three blocks to tell her about you.”
The woman came over, taking Samantha’s hand and looking up into her eyes. Samantha caught her breath. The rest of her might have been old and stooped, but the old seer’s black eyes were still as vibrant as ever and sifted through the souls within her as easily as fingers through her hair. “There she is. Ah sweet girl, I’m so proud of both of you…”
Samantha gulped, glanced at Eli and Armand, then back to the woman. “Thank you?”
“Yes, well…” She turned, puttering her way to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. “Some sweet tea. You go on and sit down.”
She set a large cup filled with sweet tea in front of each of them, took one for herself, and sat, looking over each of them. “We’d better get started with the important stuff first. Where’s the forth?”
Armand looked at Samantha, who looked at Eli. Eli sighed. “We aren’t sure. She was kidnapped.”
“Ah, the lonesome star has made his move.” She hummed, flicking her fingernail against her cup.
“You saw this coming?” Eli demanded.
The old woman laughed. “How do you think prophets work, boy? Wand wiggling, chants and boom we know the paths of men? Don’t be silly. There are things that are obvious, if you know enough. He had to do something about the woman who has defied his orders and destroyed many warriors on both sides.”
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