Transgression

by Brandy C. Ange

  When Achaia woke again, the sun had been up for a while, but no one else. Moving as quietly as possible, she stumbled over to where her clothes hung on the line and searched them with her hands to see if any of them were dry. She pulled on a pair of frozen damp jeans and a mostly dry t-shirt. With her blanket still wrapped around her she moved cautiously across the room to sit in front of the fire, which at this point was more like smoldering ashes.

  She sat, a hump of quilt, alone in silence staring into the fireplace. The windows were packed with snow to the point, she couldn’t see out of them. It was nice to be able to just think, to process.

  Her father was friends with Satan, there was more to her mother’s death than she ever imagined, and she was a Nephilim. Either she was still in shock, or she just didn’t care about anything as much as one would expect to…

  Before her, the ashes she was staring at began to glow and come alive again. A flame burst forth, stopping only inches away from her face. She jumped backward, bumping into something hard. There was a grunt, and then she fell backward to the floor.

  “Oh sorry.” Noland apologized from underneath her. “I was starting the fire back up.”

  “I didn’t realize anyone else was awake.” Achaia said struggling to pick herself up off of him and back to her knees. Noland grabbed her arms firmly; holding her still for a moment, steadying her, before placing her back up into a kneeling position before the fire.

  “I wasn’t,” he said coolly crawling forward to sit next to her. “Until somebody drug a blanket across my face,” he said in a grumpy tone, though he spoke with a smile.

  “Sorry.” It was cold enough that her breath was like smoke in the air, and here he sat in just his boxer briefs on the cold wood floorboards. Oh to be your own fireplace… She envied him in her mind. Then she realized she was staring at him, a boy, in his underwear.

  She looked back up to the flames that danced around in circles, embracing each other, destroying each other, dominating one another and merging together. The warmth they provided was nothing in comparison to Noland’s arms. The fire that burned within him was ten times as fierce. He burned with love, passion, anger, loathing… emotion. It was evident in his eyes.

  “You sleep well?” He asked looking from the fire to her, at least what he could see of her from beneath her bundle.

  “Yeah, really well. Thanks. You?” She asked politely. Secretly, she wondered if he’d been looking for a specific answer, an answer to a different question or if she was just reading too much into things.

  He sat for a moment, longer than what would have been considered socially acceptable, and looked her in the eyes. “Mmm,” he wore a mock-pensive expression, “probably the best I’ve slept in a long time.”

  “Oh, good.” Achaia said looking away quickly. He had a way of making her nervous and uncomfortable.

  “I’m thinking I should wake everyone else up. We need to find some food.” Noland said standing up and grabbing a pair of his jeans from the line.

  Achaia looked up just as he was pulling them up to his waist and zipping them. She blushed and looked away for a second before looking back up at him. His skin was a warm honey brown, and coated in dark black freckles. He looked like he was glowing.

  “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” She agreed scooting closer to the fire to thaw out her own jeans.

  “Okay!” He said loudly, but not as obnoxiously as he had when he’d woken her up at the hotel. “We need to get up and get going.” Achaia didn’t turn around but she could hear the other’s stirring.

  “Going?” Yellaina mumbled from beneath her mountain of quilts. “I don’t want to move.”

  “Yeah we need to figure out what we’re going to do next. But first we need food. Which means,” Achaia could hear Noland grab the squeaky rail of the upper bunk. “We’re going hunting.”

  Achaia turned to see Noland tousle Olivier’s hair.

  “So let’s WAKE UP!” He yelled loudly, his tone piercing in the otherwise quiet room. Even Achaia was annoyed and she’d been up for a while.

  “Too loud. Too early.” Emile mumbled from under his blankets. “Stop making everyone hate you.” Then, pulling the blanket from over his face he, cocked and eyebrow. “Unless you’re looking for me to punch you in the jaw? In which case, proceed.” Emile said in the foulest tone Achaia had ever heard him use. Noland laughed at the thought.

  Slowly but surely everyone woke up, except for Amelia who was still lying unconscious bundled in quilts. After everyone was dressed they broke open the box of plane crackers of which everyone was granted one pack. Emile was set on rationing them out just in case hunting didn’t go well.

  As they ate Noland discussed a plan. “Okay so two of us will go hunting. Olivier, you’ll come with me. Yellaina, you stay here with Amelia, keep her warm, maybe move her closer to the fire for the day. Emile, you and Achaia scout the perimeter for humans, see if there are any around. If there are demons around, we want to know about it.”

  They all nodded in agreement. Olivier tore open his duffel bag and took out a few choice weapons before helping Yellaina move Amelia closer to the fire.

  Emile looked over at Achaia and stood, “You ready for this?” He picked up his own duffel and took out a few weapons for himself.

  “What are those for?” Achaia asked confused.

  “Well, where there’s humans, there are demons. If there are demons, we’ll be needing these.” He explained tucking knives and daggers into hidden places under his clothes.

  “Oh right.” Achaia agreed sarcastically. “That makes sense.”

  Emile smiled and tossed her jacket, from the line, over to her. “Let’s go.”

  Achaia put her jacket on and followed Emile out into the bitter air. She pulled her jacket around her more snuggly but still the wind seeped through, chilling her to the bone. Emile popped the collar of his jacket around his neck and headed for the trees.

  The trees were laden heavily with snow. Icicles hung from the branches like frozen wind chimes. If the forest had been a photograph in a calendar it would have been ideal for January. Being in the picture was frigid, mind numbingly cold.

  Achaia already couldn’t feel her toes, but she forced herself to keep walking, begrudgingly following Emile into the wood.

  They walked in silence out of the clearing, save for the crunching of snow beneath their steps. Once they were among the trees the wind was whipped every which way, until there was hardly any wind at all. It was strangely quiet in the woods.

  After walking a ways they reached a clearing. Achaia watched as Emile stopped in the center of it and turned to face her, his expression strange, alarming.

  Olivier followed Noland around to the back of the cabin and into the forest. They strained their ears to hear. The wind was still too loud so they headed deeper into the woods where the wind would be blocked by the trees.

  After a few minutes of trudging as quietly as possible, they stopped again. The wind was nonexistent here. The air was still, silent. They strained their ears once again to listen.

  Olivier, watching Noland’s face, noticed his mouth was twitching with anticipation; he looked like an animal himself. Finally, Olivier heard it, the faintest sound of crunching snow and the snap of a tiny twig.

  Noland’s head whipped around. In the distance, he could see it too, a buck.

  “What is it? Humans?” Achaia asked, trying to read Emile’s expression and failing. His eyes were alive, angry almost. It was hard for her to tell, but his eyes looked gray as opposed to their usual blue.

  “No.” He said coolly. “There are no humans around, I would have felt them by now.” He looked down at the ground for a moment. Achaia watched him closely. Even though she could not feel his emotions she could tell he was struggling within himself.

  “Okay, you can’t say anything to anyone. Okay?” His voice was strained.

  Achaia nodded but wasn’t sure if she could agree. She searched his face deeper for any hint of wh
ere he was going with this, but came up empty.

  “Promise me.” He demanded.

  “I promise.” Achaia spat out quickly, her voice was shaky, not from the cold but from confusion and fear. She’d never seen him like this before.

  “What I want to do, I’m not allowed to do. It’s completely up to you. But I want you to be able to defend yourself.” He stopped, breathing hard. “It’s against the law for me to train you. But I feel that to leave you without a basic knowledge of our warfare would hurt you.”

  Achaia could only nod.

  “I want you to understand that I am breaking the law, but it’s that important, Achaia, for you to be able to defend yourself—we’re up against…You must meet me halfway. I need you to try.”

  “Okay.” Achaia’s voice was soft, but she knew that he didn’t need to hear her to feel her agreement. Achaia remembered what it had felt like to sit before the Nephilim, she wouldn’t wish a trial on Emile. Especially, not a trial for helping her. She hated the risk, but she knew she needed all the help she could get.

  Noland looked back to Olivier, nodding for him to make his move. If the buck were closer Noland would be the better one to take him down, but with him being so far away, Olivier would be the only one who could catch him after they made their presence known. Olivier took a step forward, a twig beneath the snow snapped. Noland threw a sharp glance at him, Olivier shook his head with frustration and concentration, moving still closer.

  The deer looked around, nervously it took a few steps, then forgot the sound. Olivier crept closer again, he moved a few feet before another twig broke. This time it was louder and the buck took off into the woods.

  Olivier took off running, ripping off his winter jacket and his shirt. With the sound of crunching bones, large white wings sprung from his back. With them he pushed against the still air, gaining on the animal. Within a few seconds he had caught up with the deer. He struggled to free the dagger from his jeans. He flew next to the deer. The buck, too confused to try turning, only ran faster. Olivier put the dagger to its throat…

  “Okay,” Emile seemed to relax a little bit. He smiled weakly. “Now, angels have their own art-form when it comes to battle. We have our own laws. We have our own techniques.

  “When there are only two angels fighting, we duel. This can be used to settle disagreements, or there can be stakes. Now, the rules for dueling are simple: No subs, meaning no one outside the match can join in the fight. No unseen weapons, be upfront about your weapons of choice, each participant gets two. No shape-shifting, or other extra-angelic powers can be used. And last but not least, third blood wins, fourth blood forfeits.”

  “What does that mean?” Achaia asked, her face growing pale.

  “This is an honor fight. It means whoever draws blood three times first, wins. If you draw blood four times, you’re a blood thirsty bastard and you forfeit. To the death or otherwise, third blood first, wins.

  “Now we’re not going to duel, but I’m going to attack you, I want you to defend yourself. I just want to see what you’re working with.”

  Achaia nodded, they stood for a moment in silence before Emile smiled. He moved slowly rotating around her in circles, getting closer and closer to her.

  Achaia’s heart was hammering against her rib cage, like an animal trying to break loose.

  Emile drew a dagger from somewhere on his person so quickly, Achaia had no idea how it had gotten into his hand.

  Achaia’s heart began to race, she could feel the cold of her sweat against the breeze. Emile moved so fast, she wondered if he didn’t share Olivier’s gift. She tried to recall any of the karate she had learned, but came up blank.

  Emile rushed her, and she dodged to the side. Her mind seemed to slow down, taking in every movement, every breath, and every twitch of his face. She closed her eyes for a second and felt the air move across her face, heard the snow in front of her crunch. She almost wondered if she was hearing her own heartbeat, or if it was Emile’s.

  Opening her eyes, she grabbed his arm just as he swung at her. She twisted it around behind his back.

  With his other arm Emile attempted to stab at her with the dagger. Achaia popped the shoulder to the arm she held out of its socket.

  Emile screamed in pain and tried harder to stab her.

  Achaia grabbed the hand with the dagger in it and twisted the wrist until he let go. Before the dagger could even hit the ground, she snatched it out of the air. She pushed Emile forward until he fell onto the ground looking up at her from his back. In a flash she was kneeling on the ground next to him holding the dagger at his throat.

  Emile swallowed hard. “Well done.” He said breathlessly. “Maybe I was wrong to think you defenseless.” He chuckled.

  Achaia, as if snapping out of a trance, leaped back away from him and threw the dagger far away from her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what happened.”

  “It’s okay,” Emile said crawling toward her on the snow. “It’s a lot of instinct for us. When we go into battle, it becomes second nature. But you picked up on that rather quickly. I might even think that it was…” A look of realization crossed his face. He stood slowly to his feet in front of her.

  “What?” Achaia asked anxiously. “What?”

  “Well, Achaia,” He started, popping his shoulder back into place with a sharp breath. “I think we might have found your spiritual gift.”

  Shael sat on the edge of his bed with his shirt off, rubbing hyssop oil over his cuts and his demon bite.

  “That looks like it was a good one!” Luc said, leaning against Shael’s ice dresser. Shael had added to his injuries with each fight in the blood games. He had been fighting lower level demons, none of which were very smart, but all of which were massive.

  “Yeah, you have some interesting creatures in your cohort,” Shael said, grabbing a fresh shirt that Luc had laid out for him. It was hardly Shael’s taste. The shirt was black silk and collared. Shael hated dress clothes. He preferred linens or cotton. Clothes that were easy to move and fight in.

  “I forget how much has changed since we last called each other friend.” Luc was staring into the reflection on the floor between two fur rugs. The light danced up from it, and other spots like it, making the room look like it was under water. “Tell me,” he said looking up at Shael, as he buttoned the shirt given to him, “what is new with you?”

  “Like you haven’t been keeping tabs on me for hundreds of years? You already know everything about me.” Shael said, letting his hands fall to his sides, gripping the edge of the bed. Luc frowned, and appeared to be deep in thought. Shael, looking at him, could almost remember the angel who had been so dear to him in Heaven. “What’s new with you?” Shael asked, pityingly.

  “Ah well, you know, mayhem, murder, deceit, seduction, and on the weekends I hang out with Benny. He’s an incubus,” Luc smiled, recovering from his thoughtfulness with sarcasm. “Tell me,” he said excitedly, “do you ever hear from Lailah?”

  At the sound of her name, Shael felt like he had been punched in the stomach and immediately felt like he was going to throw up. He hadn’t heard or spoken her name in a million years or more, not since he fell and they’d been parted forever. “No.”

  “Shame. Now she was a real beauty. Don’t get me wrong, your senator was cute, but Lailah,” Luc whistled, “she was the Cherub’s arrow!”

  Shael desperately wanted to shift the subject away from his soulmate. “What of your heart? Do you ever hear from your Hilmya?”

  Luc’s face blanched. “You mean after you turned her against me?” he asked bitterly. “She used to come down for the occasional tryst. Until she got pregnant. Then I guess she realized it wasn’t the greatest idea.” Luc spat.

  “You have a child?” Shael asked shocked.

  “I have an adolescent.” Luc nodded. “About the same age as your Achaia.”

  “And Hilmya—”

  “Forbids contact. Yes.” Luc looked genuinely put out by this. Shael
couldn’t help but wonder if there was still perhaps the shred of a heart left in him after all. “I did not lose everything, it was taken from me.” Luc said sadly. “Why did you do it?” Luc looked deeply into Shael’s eyes.

  Shael flinched as if he’d actually been slapped. “Me?”

  “You fought with me, as brothers. Then not only did I lose my fight for justice, I lost my army, my wife… and it was my own best friend, my brother who turned them from me. What made you hate me? What was it that hardened your heart toward me?” Luc’s blue eyes looked like the sea before a hurricane.

  “Your lies. Your deceit.” Shael answered truthfully. “You beguiled and used us for your own purposes. We trusted you. You broke that trust. You turned our hearts against you, it was not my doing,” Shael said, not without compassion.

  “I have not seen the face of my own child, because you plotted to take Hilmya from me. You could not even leave me my wife. My family.”

  “Hilmya made her own decision.”

  “Only after you suggested it!” Luc wiped his arm across the top of Shael’s dresser, smashing its contents to the side. When he turned around, Shael could see thousands of years of heartache turned to bitterness in his eyes.

  Shael didn’t flinch at the violent outburst, only sighed sadly. “You blame me for the crop you reap, but you are the one who planted it.”

  “Don’t forget, you helped me sow the seed.” Luc looked venomous. “You have taken my child from me. I will take yours. You will spend eternity knowing her fate was your fault.”

  Shael stood, but Luc stormed out of the room, slamming the ice door behind him, causing the ice to crack with spider web like fractures throughout.

  Back at the cabin, Emile and Achaia stood in front of the fire, thawing their frozen legs and fingers. Yellaina sat on the bed next to Amelia who was still asleep. Emile was glad, seeing as how his shoulder was dislocated about an hour before.

  “I took the pots we found and washed them.” Yellaina was saying cheerily. “For when Noland and Olivier get back with food. I hope they find something.”