Harsh Gods

by Michelle Belanger

  “Papaw!”

  The walls of her memory palace started to crumble.

  The symbols of Terhuziel’s Name split like a maniacal grin, and the wallpaper around the central strokes peeled back to reveal a pitchy darkness beneath. A vision flickered in those stygian depths—a high stone tower, its battlements stained black. A ring of looming gargoyles. A tall, peaked roof against a backdrop of forking lightning.

  The perfect abode of a fairy-tale villain.

  “That’s the heart of his tie to you, Halley,” I said. “Cut it away, and you’re done!”

  CUT ME OUT, ANAKIM, AND I SHALL ONLY RETURN. I AM EVERYWHERE. YOU ARE BUT ONE.

  Halley’s spirit-light winked out almost entirely. Her grasp on her power was too fresh, and the loss of her grandfather too raw.

  “You’re lying, Whisper Man.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “That’s not my Papaw.” But the words held little force.

  She was going to lose the fight.

  I released her hand and stepped past her. The distorted symbols of Terhuziel’s Name quivered inches from my face. A fetid stink poured from them into the room—it figured a dead god would have bad breath. Through the gaping holes torn by the sigils, I could sense his final tether, and I knew in that instant that I couldn’t break it by myself.

  But I could replace it.

  The knowledge welled up in me, perhaps spurred by my earlier exchange with Father Frank. I could make the girl an anchor. She’d let Terhuziel in, but she’d welcomed me, as well, and right now, I was closer. He had only a pipeline. I stood right inside her fucking head.

  It was the simplest solution.

  Gleaming whorls of blue and silver fire sprang to life before my eyes, tracing the outlines of my ancient Name. All I had to do was carve those symbols into the wall with my blade.

  And I almost did it.

  Halley drew up beside me. I folded her close with one wing. I could feel the untapped potential inside of her—diluted, but a treasure all the same.

  Terhuziel didn’t deserve to drink such precious fire.

  “Wingy?”

  Her voice was so small compared to the thunder inside of my head. Timorously, she tugged at my hand. The connection did it—the trust inherent in that small gesture. She didn’t deserve to be bound. Not by me. Not by anyone. I seized her by the wrist, bellowing my power to raise her own.

  “Get out of her head!” I shouted.

  Dragging Halley along, I lunged forward. She emitted a startled squeak—but quickly recovered. Her yelp turned into a cry of defiance. Lifting our voices together, I twined my power to hers and guided her in a final sally to drive Terhuziel from her mind.

  In the silence that came after, the enormity of what I’d almost done jettisoned me from the projection.

  I jerked upright, nearly tumbling from the edge of Halley’s narrow bed in the hospital. My eyes were stubborn to focus. The ghostly outlines of those potent, ancient letters swallowed everything else.

  31

  With a rough shout, I staggered back from the bed. Father Frank caught me. Flailing, I whacked him in the ribs for his trouble. All the air rushed from him, but he took the blow without complaint.

  “Halley?” he gasped.

  All the worry from before sat heavily on his features.

  “She’s fine—she’s fine,” I said quickly, striving to believe it. I struggled to catch my own breath.

  Halley stretched against the covers, fluttering her eyes as if rousing from a dream. She smiled as she looked up at me—then bashfully ducked her face against the pillows. A tangled skein of dark hair flopped over her features.

  “Sleepy,” she murmured.

  The taut anxiety in the padre’s grip slackened.

  “You did it, then,” he breathed. “The way you twitched, I was afraid something had gone horribly wrong. She’s really free of him?”

  My hands still buzzed from the power I’d called, and I could feel every inch of my extended wings. I settled them tight against my back in a gesture I realized was the equivalent of nervously clasping my arms. I still felt sick from what I’d nearly done to Halley.

  I took a halting step back toward the bed. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I clenched them into hard, tight fists. I didn’t dare put my hands on her, not after that.

  “Halley, listen to me,” I said. “You’ve got to put all your walls back up. All of them. Even to me, you understand? Make a fortress in your head. Don’t let anyone in. Not anyone.”

  Stifling a yawn, she nodded.

  “It’s OK, Wingy,” she assured.

  “No, it’s not,” I responded flatly.

  Against the pillows, her voice was muffled. “You’re nicer in my head than Whisper Man.”

  That was even worse.

  “Zack, what’s the matter?” Father Frank caught me by the shoulder.

  I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

  A sound like thunder rumbled outside. It was answered by a series of booming knocks as Lil pounded on the door. She didn’t wait for anyone to answer, just slammed the thing open with enough force to squeal the hinges.

  “What the fuck was that?” she demanded. Backlit on the threshold, she loomed like a fury incarnate.

  The padre stepped fluidly to put himself between Lil and the girl.

  Outside, the rumbling started again, working up to a peal of thunder that boomed with such ferocity it rattled the windows. The answering lightning summoned echoing flashes in Lil’s ferocious eyes.

  “Is that you?” I demanded, jerking a thumb toward the window to indicate the gathering storm. “That better not be you.”

  Lil scowled as the place shook with another monstrous peal.

  “No, you idiot,” she snarled. “What did you expect to happen when you piss off a storm god? Now, explain yourself, Zaquiel.” She went to push her way past the padre, but Father Frank held his ground. Lil turned those hurricane eyes on him, glaring over the rims of the spectacles—which diminished the effect somewhat.

  “Look, priest, I’m not angry at you,” she growled, “but you know better than to stand in my way.”

  “Zack?” Father Frank said.

  I went to the window, concern about this new development eclipsing some of my inner turmoil about Halley.

  “Let her in,” I answered with a weary sigh. “I’m done.” Huge, fat flakes of snow swirled madly in the lights outside of the hospital, so dense it was impossible to see the lot below. Another rumbling complaint echoed through the heavens, and this time, I counted—a rhythmic, breathless chant.

  “One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three, one thousand, four, one thousand, five, one thousand, six—”

  Lightning split the night.

  “Within a mile,” I whispered. “If he’s at the heart of it, he’s set his domain within a mile of here.”

  Lil marched over to the window and smacked my arm.

  “Forget the storm. What were you up to in here, Anakim? That felt more like building ties than severing them.” Her red hair had worked its way loose from its bun, and long strands of it tumbled wildly around her face.

  “I didn’t go through with it,” I said with quiet fervor.

  Father Frank looked up from checking on Halley. Despite the storm and our raised voices, she appeared to have drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

  “What are you two arguing about now?” he demanded.

  I squirmed beneath his earnest gaze.

  “Halley’s brain is prime real estate,” I explained haltingly. “I didn’t think that would be a temptation for me—and I was wrong.”

  Lil went to smack me again, and I whipped my hand up as an afterthought, catching the blow on my forearm.

  “You were going to bind her to you?” she demanded. “A girl like that? Have you taken leave of your senses, Anakim?”

  I whirled away from her, muttering, “I’m no better than any of my brothers. I’ve just forgotten half the things that make me a monster.”

  “Zack
!” the priest objected.

  I rounded on him, an echo of the storm’s fury resounding in my voice.

  “When I did it, padre, did I ask you?”

  “Yes,” he answered in a voice that did not waver.

  “But did you really understand it?” I persisted. “Did I explain enough to let you truly have a choice about the world of grief you were signing on for?”

  Stricken, he met my eyes—and looked away.

  “Didn’t think so,” I murmured. Outside, the wind gusted, singing through the wires. Another massive peal of thunder shook the skies. In the following cascade of lightning, something at the far end of the lot erupted in a shower of sparks. The streetlamps in the parking lot flickered and went out. One of Halley’s monitors emitted an unhappy whine, but the power in the hospital held without fail.

  Sharply, the padre cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have understood it if you had,” he said. There was an edge to his voice that made me look up. “And I wouldn’t have believed you—just like I didn’t believe you about what would happen when you got yourself killed.”

  Beside me, Lil clucked her tongue, derisive and dismissive all at once. Father Frank shot her a look forged of gunpowder and steel.

  “None of that matters anyway, because if I had it to do over again, the answer would still be yes.” With swift, sharp movements, he crossed the short distance between us, hands fisted at his sides. Some of his power infused his words, increasing their resonance above volume alone.

  “Maybe I didn’t know what I was signing on for with you, but I knew what I was signing on for when I joined the Corps.” He held himself rigidly at his full height. We stood nose to nose and eye to eye. “Semper Fidelis covers a lot of things—none more so than the men you promised to fight and die alongside. Or—” His voice cracked here, just a little. “—in my case, fight and live for.”

  The weight of that final sentence bore down upon his features. He drew a breath, slightly arrested by the tape around his ribs. When next he spoke, his tone was softer, but no less intense for it. He leaned close enough that I could feel the punctuation of every consonant.

  “I understand that you lost a lot last fall. I know a little about loss myself. What I don’t understand is regret. You don’t regret the choices you make to protect the people you care about. You do what you have to, and you carry on, even when those choices are hard. And you know who taught me that?” he demanded, jabbing me hard in the chest. “You did. So suck it up. If you seriously intend on fixing the shit-storm going on outside that window, you’d best stop wallowing in self-doubt. Sir.”

  At this last, his right arm twitched with the urge to end on a salute. Instead, he squared off his shoulders and pinned me with the heavy burden of those worn copper eyes. He never blinked. After a moment, he turned smartly on one heel and went back to tend to Halley.

  I gaped after him, speechless.

  “You’re both missing the point,” Lil growled. “That girl—whatever else she might be—has obvious mental deficiencies. Getting her permission is not the biggest issue here. How on earth do you trust someone like that to be responsible with power?” She stabbed a painted nail in Halley’s direction.

  “That’s your problem?” I choked. “I thought you were busting my balls about consent. It’s what’s eating me.”

  She scoffed. “Consent requires equal measures of capitulation and understanding. We’re immortals, Zack. How do you expect the average person to understand all of what we are—let alone someone who’s mentally deficient?”

  “Halley is not deficient,” Father Frank declared, biting off the end of each word. He stood protectively over the girl as she shifted languidly under her covers.

  Lil darted forward and snatched the chart from the rails of the hospital bed. She slipped the glasses down her nose.

  “Autism. Sensory Processing Disorder with a note to keep the lights low. Epilepsy—grand mal seizures. Hypoglycemic. A litany of allergies from penicillin to oranges, and on top of all of that, she’s lactose intolerant and has celiac disease?” With a baffled air of disgust, she returned the chart. “If there’s a mind in there that can think and reason, that’s so much worse. She’s trapped! How does prolonging her life strike either of you as a good idea?” She snorted. “Kill her now and let her start over. It would be kinder.”

  “Get out!” Father Frank roared.

  “Yep. You’re definitely one of Zack’s.” Lil tucked her hair back in its bun, gratuitously rolling her eyes. “You’re infected with his stupid.” At that she stomped to the half-open door, the heels of her boots sharp against the tiles. Another volley of thunder shook the building, followed by lightning so intense the ozone prickled on my tongue.

  Lil paused at the entrance to the darkened room, sparing a glance over her shoulder. “You two keep tilting at windmills. I’ll be in the hall intercepting the night nurse again when she inevitably comes to investigate all the noise.”

  Father Frank stood vigil at Halley’s side, glaring at Lil till she slipped from the room. With my hands fisted in my pockets, I moved to stand beside the padre.

  “I’m still not going to do it,” I murmured. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he drew breath to speak. Before he could voice his objection, I said, “Not for any of the reasons Lil gave, and not because I’m some kind of self-doubting coward. You made your point on that.”

  “It could give her a fighting chance,” he urged.

  “Maybe,” I allowed, “or it could paint an even bigger target on her head. Think about it. How many enemies do I have?”

  His silence was eloquent.

  “Because of the amnesia, I don’t even remember what this anchor shit does. I didn’t know I could do it until our exchange in this room.” I shot him a look. “And it’s permanent, isn’t it?”

  “As far as I can tell,” he acknowledged, “but it’s a gift, Zack. Don’t you doubt that for a second. It’s saved my life a hundred times over. I’m sixty-nine. I’ll be seventy this August. I have been shot up, blown up, and gassed. I run marathons for charity—and I rank near the top. I teach girls like Sanjeet at the dojo, and I can take more punishment than black belts half my age. The way I see it, you didn’t ask because who the hell would believe you were serious with an offer like that?”

  I wanted to agree with him, but the queasy fluttering in my gut never subsided. The blind fervor in his voice didn’t help. All I could think of was Roarke and all the other no-necks like him, kowtowing to their Nephilim masters. All the padre had done was drink a different flavor of Kool-Aid.

  “There are no down sides,” he insisted.

  Mutely, I shook my head. “I’m not sure you’d be able to see them, even if there were.”

  His frown stamped stark lines between his steely brows.

  “Just trust me on this,” I said. “I didn’t like where the impulse was coming from. If I were to even consider it, it would be for Halley. When I tried to do it inside her mindscape, it wasn’t about saving her. The impulse was something uglier than that—something selfish.”

  “Selfish is denying her because you’re having a crisis of faith.”

  “I’ve got enough guilt without your help, Mazetti,” I snapped. Leaning on the rails of the bed, I gazed down at the girl in question. Halley murmured in her sleep, eyes tracking rapidly beneath waxen lids. The way her dark hair pooled around her on the pillows, the fairy-tale comparisons were almost unavoidable—Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, never mind her favorite of Rapunzel in her tower. I felt the same protective ferocity that clearly drove the padre—but it was time to shift the narrative.

  I bent and murmured close to her ear.

  “Hey, Rapunzel—I know you can hear me, even through that crazy minefield you got leading up to your high tower.” The ceaseless motion beneath her lids halted and I felt the subtle brush of her mind as it sought my own. “You keep working on those walls like I told you,” I continued. “And use that crazy moat to your advantage. It keeps you in, but it c
an keep everyone else out. Make it your strength in this. We cut the ties, but believe me—he will try to get at you again.”

  “Zaquiel…” Father Frank began. His broad, high brow creased with worry, and contrition.

  “Let it go,” I cautioned. I straightened, rolling my shoulders. The leather of my jacket creaked, jarringly loud in the relative hush of the room. The thunder now raged outside, unabated, a dramatic reminder that we’d blackened Terhuziel’s eye. There would be a reprisal—the storm was just the first act of the show. I laid a hand on the padre’s shoulder, felt the watchful, weary tension he carried in his old bones.

  “She’s got the tools she needs for now, and I’m going to go out there and do everything I can to get the bastard before he gets his claws in her again. Then we won’t have to worry about things like anchors.”

  Silently, he nodded. He remained standing over Halley as I strode to the door.

  Outside, the Lady of Beasts fumed at the end of the hall.

  “Come on, Lil, we have a crime scene to break into,” I said before she could start. “I want to figure out where Ter-hoo-ha’s hiding, and put this nightmare to bed.”

  32

  I fell into step behind Lil as we turned the corner to the nurses’ station, making a token effort at upholding our initial ruse.

  I needn’t have bothered.

  A tall and honey-voiced gentleman leaned jauntily on the counter overlooking the station. He wore nondescript scrubs and a white lab coat, but somehow managed to make them look suave and dapper. He could have passed for Denzel Washington’s younger clone, and he flashed the nurse a smile that unironically oozed charisma. There was no mistaking what was on his mind.

  The older woman swooned like a tween at a Bieber concert, giggling as he joked.

  Lil could have saved that trust charm—the night nurse was well and truly distracted.

  Lil and I strode right past the station, making for the elevators. The night nurse wiggled her fingers pleasantly as we went by, shooting Lil a suggestive wink. The Lady of Beasts smiled back, subtly gesturing toward the doctor, whose back was to us. She gave the woman the thumbs up as the elevator swallowed us.