by Karen Mead
Lawrence muttered a curse and the two demons began fighting each other, while Cassie struggled to escape. Bennet had to move and dodge, while Lawrence could just stay where he was; his barrier was so strong, he could just absorb the curses without bothering to move. Bennet was also constrained in that he had to aim for Lawrence without hitting her, which Lawrence was exploiting by using her as a shield.
Cassie grimaced, then squinted at the barrier before her, which glistened ominously every time Bennet hit it with a curse; was it really that strong? If she looked at it cross-eyed, using a kind of sight she hadn’t known she had until recently, she thought she could see a gap in it; a tiny, fist-sized gap near Lawrence’s throat.
“Bennet, aim here! Aim here!” She cried, putting her hand up to indicate where the gap in the barrier was. Lawrence snarled and grabbed her arm.
Well, maybe if you hadn’t been holding my boobs, you could have been holding down both my hands, dumbass.
She saw something move out of the corner of her eye and felt Lawrence shudder behind her, and she knew it was over. His hands slipped off of her and he fell to the ground. She turned around, then gasped and turned away: A tree branch had pierced his throat. Someone had thrown it, with incredible precision, through the hole in the barrier she had indicated.
She turned to Bennet. “Did you…?” He just shook his head, dumbfounded.
Just then, she started as Miri threw her arms around her. “Yaaay! I finally got one!” she said in her chipper, sing-song way.
Cassie looked at the vampire. “Miri? You’re okay?”
“Course I’m okay, though it was starting to bug me how many times I got owned. I had to do a better job protecting you, as a Buckley and all,” she said, releasing Cassie and walking over to look down at Lawrence. “Oh look, he’s still alive! How do you like that, meany!”
She stomped on his stomach with her high-heeled boot and Lawrence gurgled, obviously suffering. Even knowing what kind of man he was, Cassie couldn’t stomach it.
“Stop it,” she asked, “Just stop it.”
“Awww. I’ll just put him out of his misery then,” Miri said, then Cassie closed her eyes and heard a sickening crack; the vampire had snapped his neck. “That’s one bad guy down.”
Cassie opened her mouth to say something, but no words came; what was she going to do? Tell the vampire she shouldn’t have killed Lawrence, who probably was the one who had broken her neck in the first place? Tell her they should have tried to take him prisoner, as if that was in any way feasible? She felt like an exile from another, kinder world than the one she currently inhabited.
Oh right, she remembered. Angel. Maybe I am. Speaking of which….
She saw Aeka’s blond hair bobbing up and down above the cordgrass, then the girl appeared in the clearing and grabbed her arm. She was barefoot; her feet and overalls were covered in mud, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Let’s go,” she said in her perfect, conspicuously feminine voice. “It’s scary here.”
“Hello, Aeka,” said Bennet, and Aeka cowered behind Cassie.
“Don’t worry, he’s okay,” said Cassie, patting the girl on the head. “He’s on our side now, he’s not going to hurt you.”
“Aeka, I know I can never apologize for what I did to you,” Bennet said, looking pained, “But I hope, someday—”
“Bennet, this isn’t the time for this,” said Cassie, scratching the back of her neck. What to do? The immediate threat had been taken care of, but Sam was still fighting for his life, and there was nothing she could do to help. She turned to the vampire, who was standing with her hands behind her back, looking pleased with herself.
“Miri, go help Sam,” she said.
“Pshaw,” Miri scoffed. “My job is to protect you. Besides, those demons are fighting full out, I don’t have a chance,” she said quietly. “I only got lucky this time because Squinty here was totally focused on fighting Mr. Handsome Pants.”
“Who?” said Bennet.
“Scared,” said Aeka again, tugging on her arm. “Scared, Cassie.”
Cassie’s eyes widened; it was the first time the girl had called her by her name.
“Oh, please,” said Miri with disdain, turning away. Apparently she hadn’t gotten over the fact that Aeka had cut off her head, not that Cassie could really blame her.
That was right; as hard as it was to believe, the small, frightened girl tugging at her arm like a child was actually a terrifying monster. Her strength seemed to dissipate once she had lost her armor, but had it really? Cassie squinted and searched the girl’s face, looking for any trace of The Knight. They had been assuming that her powers had come from the armor, but maybe it was the other way around; after all, she was an angel.
And, much as it pained Cassie to admit it, she was more of an angel than Cassie was; there was a reason the Leviathan had been drawn to her. The thing had looked at Cassie without an ounce of recognition. To the beast, she had been just another piece of food.
Cassie placed both of Aeka’s hands into her own.
“Cassie?” asked Miri, worried. Bennet was looking at them both with a strange expression on his face, like he had an inkling of what was about to happen.
Heaven help me for what I am about to do. Literally.
“Aeka,” Cassie started. “Do you want to go somewhere quiet and safe? Do you want to go back to the sea, together?”
Aeka nodded furiously, a tear rolling down her perfect cheek. Cassie hugged her.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll go back to the sea, just you and me together; the sea is right here.”
“The sea is right here,” Aeka repeated as though in a trance.
Cassie pulled out of the embrace and put her hands on the other girl’s shoulders, looking into her eyes. Who knew what depths awaited there? “I’ll go with you, and we’ll be together forever. There’s just one thing you have to do first.”
“What’s that?” said Aeka. Her pupils were dilated; Cassie knew she would do anything.
“Kill Quentin.”
Aeka didn’t move for several moments. “Aeka?” Cassie asked.
“Summon: Armor,” said Aeka, and her voice had a strange resonance, like there were different Aekas all over the marsh, speaking in unison. Then the whole world seemed to go white, and Cassie had to close her eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Sam was still running; he felt like he had been running for hours. Everyone’s barriers were getting patchy, but he didn’t have much energy left. He cleared another field of cordgrass and realized he was back at what he’d started to think of as the Leviathan’s Pool. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath. If he survived this, he was going to spring for a gym membership. As he took a step, his ankle hit something slimy and he lost his balance for a moment, just barely saving himself from falling over.
Apparently, he was now tripping over frogs—at least, he hoped it was a frog. All of the other possibilities were infinitely worse.
Sensing danger behind him, he spun and hurled a curse. “Lavos!” he yelled. He wasn’t really expecting it to hit; if anything, he was hoping it would at least graze one of the demons’ barriers rather than missing entirely. But his assailant moved at exactly the wrong (for them), time, and he scored a direct hit. To his shock, he saw the barrier shatter- inky black shards of congealed magic shimmering and popping for only an instant- and the man fell to the ground in a heap.
Sam approached the body cautiously, careful to look behind him once every few moments; it wasn’t Quentin, it was the other one. His handsome features were forever twisted in an expression of shock, his almond-shaped eyes disfigured by his expression.
How strange. I’ve killed a man and I never even learned his name.
Suddenly, he felt a throbbing pain in his side and doubled over. He had been pumping out more curses than he had ever even seen in his life, and it was finally taking its toll. Now, when he was so close to winning, he didn’t know if he could cast one more spell.
“Finally,” said a voice behind him. “I really thought you might outlast us both. You’re quite the monster,” said Quentin, closing the distance between them. “But now it’s over.”
Sam tried to point in Quentin’s direction, then grabbed his stomach again, groaning; just thinking about casting any more magic was paralyzing. But if he didn’t do something, he really was going to die.
Can I go back to the Realm? No; traveling was difficult, and required concentration. If he tried it in this state, he’d probably get trapped between the fabric of the worlds, something arguably worse than death. He should have tried traveling back for a recharge before he’d become so depleted, but he’d been so preoccupied…there had never been a time when he felt he could do it safely. Now, of course, he felt like a fool for not taking the risk when he could have.
“Good Night, Sweet Prince,” said Quentin mockingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep your girl busy.”
“She’s not my girl,” Sam muttered. “But she’ll be the end of you, one way or another.”
Quentin laughed mirthlessly. “If you say so,” and he raised his arm to prepare the curse. Sam closed his eyes.
An absurd idea occurred to him, so absurd that he would have laughed if he wasn’t so exhausted. In the moment before Quentin could destroy what was left of his barrier, he made a decision; why not? He had nothing to lose.
“Vladmira!” He called, pointing forward.
There was a clicking sound, then a black shape dive-bombed for Quentin’s face. Quentin screamed and tried to pull the thing off him, but it moved to his blond hair, making little squeaks of delight that Sam was pretty sure were not normal bat noises. Quentin shook his head manically, trying to dislodge the thing.
Sam looked at the comical display in wonder: how was Vladmira even here? Had he actually summoned the thing somehow, or had she been following him all along? Well, one thing was for sure; he had to own up to the fact that the brown bat actually was his pet now. Khalil would have a field day.
Finally, Quentin managed to get his hand on the creature and tossed it to the ground a few feet away; the bat flapped its wings for a moment, then lay still. Sam could only hope she wasn’t dead. Panting, Quentin looked at him with crazed, bloodshot eyes.
“What are you now, Dracula? God, I’m tired of your—“ he began, then his eyes widened in fear. “What’s that?”
Sam’s ears were ringing too much to notice it at first, but after a moment, he heard it too: a chorus of tiny clicks, and disturbing, wet sounds, like membranes rubbing together. Like thousands of tiny wings stretching out, waiting to fly.
“I think she brought friends,” Sam ventured.
A torrent of black shapes descended upon Quentin, and Sam had to turn away; the sound was deafening, a cacophony of clicks and flapping noises. Quentin screamed again, then something entered his mouth and he began to choke.
Sam got to his feet, dizzy and weak. What did he do now? Run away? But to where?
Suddenly, all the bats flew off Quentin in unison like they’d been summoned elsewhere, leaving the demon a panting heap in the mud. Sam took a step back, prepared to turn and run before Quentin could recover himself. But out of nowhere, someone appeared from behind the tall grass and stepped between them.
Someone with wings.
“What in the—?” Quentin muttered, scrambling back. He tried to stand up, tripped and fell on his behind, his blue eyes looking silver in the light radiated from the strange figure.
Sam also moved back. It was Aeka in her armor, but not as he’d seen her before: whereas before her armor was a cold grey, now it was silver-white, so bright that it hurt to look at it. And she seemed to have wings, but only sometimes; one moment, he could see their surface rustling, like the body of a large bird, and feel the gentle caress of a stray feather against his cheek, then he would blink and her wings would be gone, only to return again whenever he tilted his head. She seemed to give off her own light, as though she reflected the light of the sun more strongly than the moon.
“Are You Quentin?” she asked; her voice was like silver bells. It made Sam’s eardrums vibrate with pain, yet he wanted to hear it again.
“What ARE you?” Quentin asked, horrified. “Sam, what the hell have you done, you bastard!”
“Wrong direction,” Sam muttered, although no one heard him.
“Are You Quentin?” she repeated.
“I—No. No, I’m not Quentin,” Quentin stuttered. He pointed at Sam. “He’s Quentin!”
“Falsehood. You Are Quentin,” she said, and pulled a sword seemingly from nowhere.
“Balialkos! Kratos! Malkos!” screamed Quentin, throwing all his remaining power into curses. Sam was expecting to have to dodge them as they ricocheted off of the angel’s armor, but he didn’t have to; the curses just disappeared, like they had never existed.
“Perish,” she said, and she seemed to move without moving; one moment, she was standing in front of Sam. The next moment, she was before Quentin, running her sword through his heart. He struggled for a few moments, then lay still, only the hilt of the weapon showing; she had thrust the entire blade through his chest. Aeka moved away from him, not even bothering to retrieve her sword. Her wings, which seemed more concrete now, rubbed together like she was scratching an itch. She seemed to lose all interest in Sam, or anything else and just looked out towards where the sea was just barely visible through gaps in the grass and reeds.
Careful not to get too close to her, Sam slowly approached Quentin’s still form. Despite all the man had put him through, he felt a moment of pity as he looked at the man’s lifeless body. The face, frozen in otherworldly horror, didn’t move him much, but for some reason, the sight of the man’s once-fine clothes, frayed and mudstained almost beyond recognition, filled him with an unfamiliar sadness. Maybe Cassie was rubbing off on him. He knelt down and closed Quentin’s lifeless eyes.
When he did, he shuddered, feeling a well of dark energy pool in his stomach where there had been none just a moment before. What a waste that he’s dead. Shame I can’t drain his blood and take his powers, like he was going to do to me.
NO, he thought. It’s over. And that’s not who I am.
Why not? The voice that was also his own continued. You could do it; it’s still only moments after his death. You can still reverse time for him, bring him back, and suck his blood. You don’t even need a syringe, your teeth have been getting sharper ever since you contracted with the vampires, or didn’t you notice?
“No,” said Sam, cradling his head. “No. I won’t. That’s not….”
Aeka turned around and seemed to take notice of him for the first time.
You don’t even know what you are! What’s to stop you from taking all of their powers, every pathetic half-demon on the face of the planet, and putting an end to their reign of terror? They deserve it, you know that full well. Then good people like Cassie could live in peace. It wouldn’t be evil, it would be justice. Maybe the closest thing to justice this forsaken shell will ever know.
“Stop it!” He yelled. “Just stop! For once in my life why won’t you just SHUT UP!”
He realized he was lying in on the ground, in the mud, with Aeka standing above him. He had no idea what her expression was through her helmet, but he imagined that it was stern, unforgiving. When he spoke, it sounded like another man’s voice. “You should kill me, now. I’m getting worse. I can’t keep saying no. One day I won’t say no.”
Aeka just tilted her head. “She didn’t tell me to,” she said in that voice that was something more.
“’She’? Do you mean my mother?” He asked, then grabbed his head as it began throbbing.
Do it! Do it now! Do it before his corpse begins to rot and you lose your chance! In the end they’re all just rotting corpses, all of them! Even the heavenly thing in front of you, even she’s just a corpse! A beautiful corpse!
He realized he was sobbing; he curled up into a ball, and tried to forget
that Quentin’s body was next to him, just a few feet away. He heard the clinking of the girl’s armor, and realized, on some level, that she was moving towards the water.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll make it stop.”
“You will?” He choked out. Would she do it? Would she plunge the sword through his chest as well?
“Summon: Leviathan,” she said, and he was pounded with a deluge of water as the creature broke the surface of the moonlit pool. It felt cleansing, like a spring rain.
He felt like he was being washed away.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Cassie wasn’t really surprised when she ended up in the realm of the Nameless Ones again; ever since Helen had given the place a name (Tartarus, was it?) she’d been half-expecting to see it again as soon as she closed her eyes.
Last time, the Eyed One and the Mouthed One had gotten all up in her face, touching her and being creepy. This time, she could barely see them; she knew they were there, along with the others, but they were just blurs in her vision. Whether they were far away, or she just didn’t have the capacity to see very well in this world right now, she couldn’t tell; her perception was ever so slightly askew. And the sun was merciless.
“I’m just the spare tire, aren’t I?” she asked, not wasting any time. “She’s the real angel, the real one you’ve been waiting for. Only something happened…someone did something terrible to her, and I bet it wasn’t Bennet Marcus. He just used what was already there. Someone broke her, and now you need me, because I’m the next best thing.”
There was a long silence; if she didn’t know better, she would have thought the Nameless Ones were embarrassed.
Yes, said a few voices—their ambassadors to her. We failed to protect her. We feel regret.
“Well then, screw you. Why should I do anything for you? You lied to me, you told me I was special,” she said, and immediately regretted it. Was that really what this was about to her? Her pride?
You are special. And we cannot lie.
“Wait, forget I said that.”
