Become

by Ali Cross

  Longinus, with his tall, solid frame, his determination and focus on the one thing he’d given endless lifetimes for—the protection of the Spear of Destiny—my spear, my staff. Me.

  Cornelius, an ordinary man who dared to stand against demons in his desire to serve the light.

  And Knowles. Who preferred his tabernacle of clay to the form of a Fallen Gardian.

  They were hardened men, but weary—it seemed they’d aged in the brief time I’d been gone. And each of them looked to me like I could be the one to turn the tide.

  I closed my eyes and searched my heart for Michael. If I could feel him, I could find him.

  Fire spread through my limbs and reached my heart.

  Cold from my father, the king of lies.

  Hot for my mother, queen of the Valkyries.

  Unrestrained, I let my Halo and Shadow burst forth.

  Glorious.

  Complete.

  The men before me gasped, and when I opened my eyes, I saw them—Longinus, his head bowed, a fist to his heart in a manner of reverence; Cornelius, a smile nearly splitting his face in two, and Knowles, his expression a mix of contradictions—a grim line on his lips while his eyes shone with something like hope.

  “Wait,” Cornelius said, reaching into his breast pocket. “I’ve been meaning to give this to you—I’m sorry I forgot before now. Wear it. It was your mothers. And may it protect you as it protected her.” He held out a strip of black leather, a silver pendant reflecting my golden light. When I took it into my hand, I recognized it—the protection rune my mother had worn. The talisman that had allowed her to escape Hell unnoticed.

  I tugged it over my head, nodded at each of them, then took to the sky.

  Without hesitation I soared for the Peak. And even if I hadn’t felt Michael, been drawn to him like a moth to the flame, I’d have seen the spectacular light show and known that was where he had to be.

  As I circled down onto the flat ground at the top of the mountain, I assessed the situation.

  Michael, all golden glory, held his flaming sword in his hands and oh, he was beautiful. In front of him, Akaros, a god of darkness, stood with the spear butt resting on the ground beside him. He looked calm, easy. A gentleman engaged in pleasant conversation.

  Behind Michael, a small form huddled beneath the onslaught of rain and fear. Michael’s light lit up Miri’s blond hair.

  I dropped to the ground between Michael and Akaros.

  “Stop,” I said, holding my arms outstretched—dark to Michael, light to Akaros. “This needs to end.”

  Akaros laughed. “It’s true, I am boring of this game.”

  Michael said nothing.

  “Desi!” Miri lurched to her feet and stumbled toward me, but Michael held out a hand to stop her.

  “What are you doing here?” My ferocious voice pierced the night air and Miri cowered.

  Akaros leaned forward and in a whisper-that-was-not-a-whisper said, “In truth, she was rather eager to come with me when I suggested she might be able to help you.” His gaze left mine and travelled to Miri. “Strange how you seem to engender such foolish loyalty.”

  “Let her go,” I said. “You don’t need her.”

  “And what would you know of what I need, Desolation?” Akaros raised the staff and held it in both hands, looking it over with deliberate care. “I should think you’d have it all figured out by now. Though, you’ve always been a bit slow.” He glanced up from the staff and his mouth wore the crooked smile I’d seen on his face many, many times.

  I’d always thought it simply indicated his disappointment, but now I saw it was more about his disdain for me.

  “I know that staff is mine,” I said, nodding to the rod in his hands.

  “Was yours,” he said, a dry chuckle following. “You didn’t take care of it and now it is mine—even little children know not to leave their toys lying around.” He thrust the staff upward—Longinus’ spearhead perched on top—and a beam of hellfire shot from its tip.

  My stomach twisted to see the way that glorious weapon had been turned to serve Akaros—to serve the dark.

  “You might as well go back to Hell now, tutor.” I glanced at Michael as he stepped up beside me, letting his golden wing brush against my black one. “It’s over.”

  Akaros laughed. “Oh, it’s not over, infant. Not quite.” Akaros lunged forward, his eyes and body facing Miri, his arm pulled back as if to launch the spear. I threw myself into its path—

  not caring if it ended my life.

  Not caring that neither Heaven nor Hell would have me.

  But in the final seconds, as the spear crossed Akaros’ shoulder and should have been loosed in a deadly trajectory toward my heart, Akaros spun on his heel and sent the staff a different direction.

  Not toward Miri at all.

  Not toward me.

  Even before the spear hit its mark, Akaros’ face twisted in cruel triumph. Beyond Akaros, Michael’s face burst into an expression of stunned sorrow, screaming his pain and loss even while his voice was utterly quiet.

  I rushed to him, and he crumpled to his knees, the spear buried deep in his chest. With Herculean effort he struggled to pull the lance from his body.

  He said nothing.

  And I had no words.

  Only our eyes, locked on each other, refusing to look at anything else, spoke where our voices could not.

  The spear slipped beneath my grasp, slick with the blood of my beloved. My tears fell with the rain, drenching Michael, but the flood of emotion continued to rise until my whole body hummed with the pressure. With a final heave, the spear was free and Michael slumped forward, his hands clutched to the hole in his chest. Rain-water streamed from his hair, his face, and obscured the tears falling from his eyes.

  Frigid fire burned through my body, razing over my limbs, my mind, my heart, my wings, and I screamed with fury as I turned on Akaros. I held the staff in my hand, bearing the eternal ice and pain as its power seeped under my skin. I lunged forward—I have the staff!

  And I had Knowledge.

  Everything of who I was, who I had been and who I was destined to be.

  I am Desolation.

  The bearer of light and dark. The weight at the balance of time—my judgment will decide. And whatever I choose will determine my own destiny—light or dark.

  Akaros had the sad misfortune of not understanding what this Knowledge brought me.

  “Desi,” Michael whispered behind me, his voice stronger than it had reason to be. I did not spare a glance for him. Instead, I closed my eyes and trusted.

  Trusted that he knew I loved him.

  Trusted that he understood my choice.

  Trusted that I could be myself—not Father’s choice for me. Not Odin’s choice for me. But mine.

  When I lunged at Akaros I saw the reflection of my one golden wing in his cold black eyes and I gloried in the beauty of it. Whipping the staff around above my head I brought it down toward Akaros’ neck with a ferocious cry.

  He caught the tip of it in his clawed fingers and the dance began.

  I’d been fighting Akaros an eternity. In Asgard. In Hell. Earth should be no different.

  And yet, it was.

  For I had never fought for the one I loved. I had never fought without apology for who I was.

  The rain-slick staff flew from my hands to his and back again. Forward, back.

  We were more evenly matched than Akaros ever knew. Than I ever knew. I could beat him. I would win.

  I hit Akaros in the head with the butt of the staff just as he whipped around and chopped inward against my throat, just below my ear.

  And then: no more thought.

  Only movement.

  Only purpose.

  I ignored the pouring rain, the brilliant cracks of lightning and thunderous booms and separated my mind from the battle. And Michael was there, in my mind. I imagined I felt his breath on my cheek, heard his words in my ear. I love you. Always. And I will remember you.<
br />
  That sounded too much like a goodbye, and I had no intention of saying goodbye when I’d only just found him. When I’d only just Remembered.

  “Desi!” I looked back. Saw what Michael saw—a giant hole opening in the ground at his feet, dividing the earth between us.

  I stumbled back, directly into Akaros’ arms.

  His hands clasped around my neck, squeezing the air, the life, out of me.

  Frigid wind washed over me as my father—Lucifer—emerged from the earth. He came as a god—glorious and deadly.

  You are not worthy of him, Akaros’ words slithered into my mind, pushing out any sense of Michael. Father stood taller than any of us, his ram’s horns curling away from his skull and shining like pitch in Michael’s light. He tipped his head back, closing his ruby-red eyes and revealing needle-sharp teeth. Lightning fell all around us, searing the air with the smell of ozone.

  Akaros tightened his grip on my throat, on my mind.

  Look at him. He is a god, and you are nothing but a half-breed creature worth less than the skin you occupy.

  My fingers clawed at Akaros’ hands, trying unsuccessfully to peel them away from my throat. Darkness encroached my vision, bringing silence and emptiness.

  Perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps I should just let go. The thought was my own, and I welcomed it.

  Yes, let go. Rid the worlds of the abomination of your birth. Akaros’ words, cruel and bold, made sense to my weakening mind.

  I dropped my hands and let my body relax. I would let go. It would be over.

  At least for me.

  Desi. Michael’s voice, slipping into my mind, between Akaros’ continuing diatribe of my unworthiness, curled around my soul like an embrace. Use your light, my love. Embrace the secret you’ve kept for so long.

  The spark.

  I hadn’t realized until that moment that I still hid it from Akaros, still protected my secret from his prying presence.

  Could I do it now? Was it too late for me?

  It’s never too late to choose, my love.

  It wasn’t too late.

  With a roar, I blasted the walls I’d built around the spark in my soul. I screamed the release of the heritage I’d gained from my mother. I embraced the golden spark and let it consume me, let it swallow up every piece of the darkness that still clung to me.

  With a howl of pain, frustration and shock, Akaros leaped back, clutching his hands to his head.

  I swung around, focusing all my anger and fear and heart into pure motion—and kicked Akaros square in the chest. The blow hit him hard enough that he lifted off the ground and flew backward several feet with a loud whoosh.

  Miri screamed. For a moment I paused, torn between finishing off Akaros and protecting Miri from whatever danger threatened her. The chasm yawned between us, earth crumbling into the bottomless pit that threatened to engulf us. Michael and Miri were now beyond my reach—without taking to the air.

  Michael lurched forward, one hand pressed to his chest. With the other, he pulled Miri to him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. He curled one wing protectively around her. Oh, how I loved him.

  “Desi!” Fear and rage thundered through Michael’s voice and I turned.

  And there was Akaros, bristling with rage. He whirled, using his wing as a weapon.

  I ducked, but his wing glanced against my face, its razor edge slicing through my cheek and upward into my brow.

  He spun away as I pursued him.

  I had never felt such fury, such fierce anger course through me. I became like another creature, spinning and whirling, as I slashed, cut, jabbed, kicked with my arms, legs, wings.

  I pursued Akaros with a desperate need to punish. To eradicate.

  Akaros began to weaken. I could sense the self-doubt in his mind. Feel his weakness. His fear.

  I pressed him with ever more fury, only growing stronger as he weakened. His fear of the spear tip caused him to fight with great care, even while my love for Michael spurred me on to ever-increasing abandon.

  The rain flicked from the staff as I swung, creating arcs of water in the air that sketched the angles of my attack, drawing the outline of Akaros’ destruction. I brought the spear down with every ounce of my strength, slashing, crushing bone and flaying body.

  Finally Akaros knelt at my feet. Bloody and broken, his black blood flowed in great rivulets, making pools of ink on the rain-soaked ground. I touched his forehead with the staff, pushing him onto his back with a touch as light as a child’s.

  Akaros lay at my feet, one Doc-booted foot pressed to his bicep. I saw the scene as if from outside my own body. I felt nothing. No sorrow. No regret.

  Only necessity.

  Only now.

  His mouth opened wide in a disbelieving cry, his razor-sharp teeth gleaming in my light. But he made no sound.

  In a shower of sparks, both light and dark, I killed Akaros.

  chapter thirty-four

  “Ahh, Michael and Desolation—the two love birds have reunited,” Father said. He still stood as a god, his voice echoing the thunder around us. “After all this time you couldn’t find yourself another girl, Michael? Someone with, perhaps, less baggage, as they say?”

  Michael’s eyes shone with love for me. Everything else was bathed in darkness.

  “You may have loved him once, Desolation, but he’s no longer yours.” Father took a step toward Michael. “Look at him. He’s a Gardian, clothed in righteousness and light. And what are you?”

  When he faced me, I struggled to fight the urge to bend beneath his gaze. “You are an anomaly—you don’t belong anywhere. And you could never belong to him.”

  His voice rang like a hammer in my mind, each word a blow that broke my heart into a million pieces.

  “You’re wrong,” Michael said, his soft voice an utter contrast to Lucifer’s.

  “You are wrong,” I whispered, to no one but myself.

  But Father flicked his eyes over Miri, then stepped across the chasm to look down on Akaros. He stood there, silently, while I struggled to regain some composure, to steady my breath, to hide my fear.

  He scuffed his hoof against Akaros, just beneath his arm. “You know, I had grown weary of this one’s arrogance. I believe you have done me a great service.”

  “Michael!” Miri cried, drawing my attention away from Father. I ran to them, flying over the chasm, to reach Michael who had collapsed to the muddy ground, his face pale, his golden light fading into the blackness of the night. “My love, Michael. Please.” I tried to pull him up, to pull his head onto my lap. I ran my hands over him, hesitating over the large, gaping wound in his chest. Oh, how I wished I could heal him. Please let him be all right, I cried, hoping Heimdall saw, hoping the Valkyries would come for him.

  “Oh, they’re done with you,” Father said, coming to stand beside us. I didn’t spare him a glance. And I wouldn’t dignify him with a response. “Tsk, tsk. That’s quite the wound,” he said, leaning over slightly to see, then turning away as if the sight of blood was too much for his sensibilities.

  “Please!” I cried out, and Father laughed. Miri knelt beside us, crying, her tears lost in the rain, while I shed none. I felt them—each one like a burning dagger shredding my heart to pieces—but my eyes stayed dry. I was going to lose him. I looked up to the sky, searching for the stars, for the Ascended Gardians looking down on us. But the sky was filled with storm clouds, not a star in sight. “Don’t let him die,” I whispered.

  “If you’d like, I could save him,” Father said. I zeroed in on him. He stood as a man once more, his elegant form untouched by the rain.

  “How?” I demanded, but my skin had grown cold. Father never gave anything for free.

  He shrugged and strolled toward Miri. Standing near her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s simple, really. You let him come with me.”

  “What? No!” Father stroked Miri’s head. She whimpered and pulled her face down to her knees, making herself as small as possib
le.

  “Of course, I will have one of them—either her,” he grasped a fistful of Miri’s hair, forcing her to look up, “or him.” He smiled at Michael.

  I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. My blood seemed to have stopped pumping, my eyes unable to see.

  “Choose, Desolation.” Father said in a voice so cold I shivered. “You’ve been getting lots of practice at choosing lately—surely you can make one more choice.”

  He let go of Miri and paced toward me like a panther anticipating a kill. “Give me the girl and Michael will die. Send him with me, and I will heal him. He will live—and the girl, also.” When he reached down, he grasped my chin and yanked it upward, his fingernails digging into my skin. “Choose.” His breath washed over me, fire and brimstone, hopelessness and despair.

  Behind me, I heard the screeching sound of zabaniyah, the hell-made monstrosities of my father’s creation, as they climbed through the Door that had been ripped through the Earth and crawled to Father’s feet.

  With a flick of his hand, Father sent the zabaniyah after Miri, who screamed with desperate fear as they grasped her, scratching at her skin, tearing her clothes. Michael moaned and reached his hand toward me. I fell to my knees at his side.

  “Choose,” he rasped through clenched teeth. “Choose Miri.” His hand wrapped around the back of my neck pulling my face down to his. I pressed my temple against his. Felt his warmth seep into me, renewing my strength and courage.

  In his ear, I whispered, “Read my mind.”

  He smiled then, and his eyes found mine. As I gazed into their golden warmth, I filled my mind with love for him. With every memory I had, every hope for our happiness. Every kiss we’d shared and hoped to share. I filled my mind with love.

  He nodded, the barest of movements, before letting his hand drop to the ground.

  “Take him,” I said, in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

  “You’ve made your choice?” Father asked, laughter rounding the sound. “Do tell.”

  I glared at him. He knew the choice I’d made. “I choose . . .” Each word felt like a piece of my flesh torn from my body.