“I say right,” Yellaina piped up. “There’s more lights down that way. Maybe there are some restaurants.”
“In Paris lights don’t always mean food, Yellaina,” Noland laughed. As they came into the light of the street He looked down at Achaia’s face. “While we’re out you should probably find a local healer, see if you can’t get some provisions.” Noland spoke to Yellaina, but his face studied Achaia’s, and one of his fingers slid along the cuts on her cheek.
Yellaina grimaced. Apparently Achaia looked as bad as she felt. “I can do that.”
They took off to the right toward the lights. They came up on a girl who was probably only a year or two older than Achaia. She wore a tiny leather mini skirt, and a shiny red halter top with knee high black leather boots. She was leaning against the wall with a cigarette.
Oh my God, is that a— Achaia started thinking to herself. She looked the part, except for her demeanor. The girl slumped against the building and didn’t even try to look at Noland, Emile, or Olivier. As they got closer Achaia noticed a tear gliding down her pale cheek. “Hold up,” Emile raised one of his hands for them to stop behind him. “Yellaina you wanna help me out with this one?” Yellaina nodded and stepped forward. Together they approached the girl.
“Bonjour.” Emile started, getting the girl’s attention. He looked to Yellaina. The girl looked up and tried to smile seductively at Emile. But she could not stop her crying.
Yellaina approached the girl and spouted off in rapid French, asking her what was wrong and if she was okay.
The girl’s face dropped once more and she eyed Yellaina suspiciously.
Emile smiled at her sympathetically and told her that it was okay, that they were here to listen.
The girl cocked an eyebrow. It was obviously something she didn’t hear every day. It was natural for her to be wary of them. “Je m’appelle Emile.” He held out a hand to the girl, “C’est mon pleasure.” He then gestured to Yellaina, “tel est mon ami Yellaina.”
The girl smiled at them, but didn’t take Emile’s hand. “Je m’appelle Anastasie.”
Emile smiled and let the hand drop back down to his side. He told her that they noticed she looked upset as they were walking by and just wondered if there was anything they could do, that they would really love to help.
Anastasie started with the immediate, that she was cold, and tired. That it was late, but she wasn’t allowed to go home yet. She looked down in shame and explained what they had already surmised, that she was in fact a prostitute, but that she hadn’t wanted to be. That this had never been her plan. Before long, Anastasie was spewing her guts to Yellaina and Emile. As she spoke, even more quickly, Emile found it hard to tell when one word had ended and another began. But she started to weep.
Emile could feel the depression demon working in Anastasie all the more because they were there. He had felt this demon before, he recognized it. The oppressor was a demon named Ania, the bringer of grief and trouble. She was desperate to hold on to Anastasie.
Emile took a deep breath, feeling Ania’s presence as if buried in his own chest, making him feel heavy with worthlessness. It was hard to breathe. It took everything in Emile not to break down, himself.
Hearing Anastasie’s story, and feeling the weight of it on her heart, Emile struggled. He knew Ania wasn’t going down without a fight. But swords and bows were no good against this kind of demon. This was the kind you had to fight inside.
“What’s going on?” Achaia asked Amelia who was standing closest to her.
“Well, she’s oppressed by a depression demon. Emile is trying to talk her out of it.” Amelia explained.
“He’s going to perform an exor…”
“No.” Amelia shook her head. “See, there is demon possession and…”
“Oppression.” Noland butted in. “It’s not controlling her, like the hunter in the woods. It’s not really in her. More like over her, influencing her. There is nothing in her to be brought out, so we can’t kill it. The only person who can kill it is her. She has to conquer it within herself.”
Amelia was looking at Noland funny. Achaia couldn’t tell if she was offended he had cut her off, or just amused. Maybe even a combination of the two.
“So Emile is trying to make her happy?” Achaia asked simply.
“Yeah— You could put it that way. He is trying to give her hope,” Noland explained.
Achaia turned back around to watch Emile and Yellaina work.
As Anastasie vented, Emile could feel the depression opening up and subsiding. He was encouraged by how much it helped, just to let her vent. Girls were funny creatures. He could feel the weight blowing away like a mist. When she stopped talking, she looked exhausted.
Anastasie had told them about how she felt worthless, like no one could ever love her because of what she was. How people only ever wanted her for her body, but no one really cared to get to know her. Her parents were dead, and when they died she had no money, no other family. She was forced into the business by one of her father’s old friends. She had really had it rough. Ania had a wide open door into Anastasie’s life.
After listening to her story, Yellaina was upset, too. Emile smiled sadly. Yellaina was getting a little taste of what it felt like to be him. “Yellaina, I need you to calm down. I can’t stand feeling both of you hurt.”
Yellaina nodded. She turned to Anastasie and invited her to come and get some dinner with them, and talk some more.
Anastasie was a little confused, but agreed. Emile felt a strike of fear, as she looked around. Emile knew that whoever she worked for would have eyes on her.
“C’est d’accord Anastasie.” He assured her, looking around himself. “Vous êtes en sécurité maintenant.”
She smiled weakly. He could tell she wanted to trust them, but she was anxious. She told them they could call her Ana, and led them down the street to an Asian restaurant that was still open.
Emile sat down at a small table with her and Yellaina while the others sat at the table behind him, to give them space. The waiter came and took their orders, and brought their drinks.
Ana went on with her story, explaining how things had gotten so out of control, and how afraid she was of her father’s friend.
Emile could feel some of the pressure coming off of her shoulders as she spoke. There was a freedom to be found in saying things out loud, and Emile wondered if Ana had ever let herself talk to anyone about what all she had been through, in her short life. She finished by telling them that she supposed she understood why no one had ever offered to help her. She knew no one could love her. Because of what she’d become.
Emile looked into her eyes, deeply. He told her, in French, that she was worthy of love. Ana looked at him in disbelief. She held his gaze and tears started to pour out of her eyes.
Emile could feel her inner battle. Wanting to believe, but not being able to.
Yellaina chimed in, assuring her that she was beautiful, inside and out. She told her about there being a God who loved her, more than she ever knew. She told her that he was a powerful king, and that she was like a princess. Of how he was a true father, not like her father’s friend. As Yellaina finished, Ana looked down.
Emile reached over and lifted her head up to look at him again. “He loved you enough to die for you, even when you were living this way. And he’d do it again. Not everyone out there is like your father’s friend, or the men you’ve met. There are people out there like your parents. Good people, loving people.”
Ana’s eyes began to tear up again. Emile didn’t remove his hand from her chin but continued to hold it.
The girl spoke softly, “People like you.”
Emile nodded. He took his hand back away from her face. He looked up to the counter as the waiter came back with their food and saw a sign above the register. “Yellaina look.”
Yellaina looked up and smiled. “Help wanted,” Yellaina spoke to Ana and pointed at the sign.
Ana stared at it for a
while. She turned back to them, looking for affirmation.
Emile nodded his encouragement, that if she wanted to, she should go. Then, with a huge smile, she strode proudly up to the register to talk to the manager. She came back with a sheet of paper and a pen, and started filling in her information, a huge grin on her face the entire time.
Emile smiled and picked up his chopsticks to dig in to his noodle bowl. But a hand laid itself over Emile’s. Emile looked down in surprise and back up at Noland in confusion. Noland took the chopsticks out of his hand. “We both know what those do to you, man.” He said in a hushed groan, so as not to interrupt Ana.
Olivier, who sat across from Noland was snorting, trying to hold in his laugh so the girl wouldn’t notice. Achaia’s face was pink also, with held in laughter.
“I’ve got your back bro.” Noland smiled, handing Emile a fork.
Emile shook his head and turned back around, watching Ana fill out her application.
Achaia watched as the girl went from crying, to joyfully filling out an application. “It’s amazing— how did he do it?” She asked more to herself.
“He simply let her know how much she was worth.” Noland answered, turning back around and watching Achaia’s face.
How many times do people run into angels and not even know it? They could be anyone… Achaia thought to herself in awe. I am one. Everyone who’s met me, ran into an angel and didn’t even know it—And what good did it do? Nothing. Achaia pondered somberly all the missed opportunities. Emile glanced at her, over his shoulder, with a small smile. Achaia’s mouth twitched up in the corner, as Emile turned his attention back to the girls at his table.
She was surprised by how vividly she remembered the faces of each person she’d had an opportunity to help; she’d never noticed before. It’s my job to protect these people. To help them. Achaia felt a rush of feeling wash over her, a sense of purpose as she ate her noodles. She smiled to herself as she ate and promised herself that she’d never miss an opportunity to save again.
When they were all finished eating and talking, they said goodbye to Ana, who was already having an impromptu interview with the manager of the restaurant, and continued in their search for a hotel. They found a cheap one not far down the street. Achaia mused for a moment; it was just down the street from Mulin Rouge. Amelia and Yellaina had stayed down in the lobby to inquire about the nearest laundromat before going in search of a local healer, while Achaia followed the others up the stairs to their rooms. She opened her door and felt a comforting wave of interior heat wash over her. Emile, Olivier and Noland opened the door to the room next to hers, and disappeared inside.
Achaia dropped her bag at the door and flung herself onto the bed by the window. It felt amazing after sleeping on a hard wood floor for two weeks. She closed her eyes, and had just started to drift off when there was a knock on her door.
Achaia sat up reluctantly, shaking off the drowsiness as she opened the door. “Hey?”
“Can I come in?” Noland asked.
“Sure,” Achaia said, walking back over to her bed and sitting down. “What’s up?”
Noland shut the door and followed her into the room, his authoritarian air disintegrating as he came closer. He sat down on the second bed facing her. “Hey.” He looked pensive for a moment as he thought of what to say next.
Achaia felt her stomach do a little summersault and she fiddled with her hands in her lap.
“Um, our room is right next door. If anything happens—”
“Yell?” Achaia smiled.
Noland smiled and shrugged.
Achaia kicked off her shoes, hoping her feet didn’t smell and tucked them up under her.
“Also, about Moscow—,” Noland sounded more serious.
“Please tell me this isn’t going to be like the council all over again,” Achaia frowned.
“I don’t know. It could be, it could be better, it could be worse,” Noland said honestly.
“Well, that pretty much covers every possible scenario, so yeah…,” Achaia shrugged, nodding.
Noland smiled with a chuckle, then his face fell. “The truth is, all of that will depend on one person. The Guardian of that safe house. We will meet him before we are even granted entry. He has authority in that place and will let us know what he expects of us when we arrive.”
“Why do you make that sound so ominous?” Achaia asked, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Because I really don’t know what to expect this time,” Noland admitted.
Achaia stared down at her knees. She had a hole in the knee of her pants that hadn’t been there a week ago. She picked at it. There were a lot of new holes in her life, she thought. As if sensing her downward spiral, Noland moved to the bed next to her. Achaia let her knees fall to either side indian-style, her left leg resting on Noland’s, and looked up at him. He was close to her. Very close, she thought.
“In all likelihood, we will be assigned rooms, and the rest of us will receive our training as usual. I don’t know how much of it you’ll be included in… but hopefully, you’ll start your Nephilim education.” Noland smiled. He raised a tentative hand to her shoulder and patted it in awkward encouragement.
Achaia swallowed. Noland lowered his hand.
“I thought you’d be happy, about that at least.” Noland frowned and scooted a little further away.
“I am.” Achaia assured him. Thinking that her having feelings must freak him out, as she watched him scoot ever so slightly further down the edge of the bed. “I’m just a little nervous. What if I’m not any good?”
Noland didn’t respond, he just stared at her in disbelief.
Achaia cursed herself for opening up. He wasn’t Olivier or Emile, he wasn’t the guy you talk to about feelings. “Oh, whatever, I doubt you want to listen to all of this. I’ll just talk to Emile about it later.” Achaia said blushing a little. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your night.”
“I—,” Noland paused for a second then stood.
“You’re leaving?” Achaia asked, surprising herself. Did she really want him to stay? Or was his leaving just abrupt?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m not the best person to sympathize.”
“I didn’t mean—” Achaia started, but she didn’t really know what she had meant, if it hadn’t been that he wasn’t sympathetic.
“I know. It’s not really my gift.” Noland tried to smirk, but it came as more of a wince. “I’m the ‘suffer in silence’ type.” He rolled his eyes at himself.
Achaia desperately wondered what he was thinking.
“If you ever need someone to just sit in the ashes with you—” Noland’s voice was low and quiet.
Achaia felt her eyebrows raise in surprise, more than she told them to do so. Noland looked down, his face pink.
“I can be a good listener.” Noland said bashfully. “I just don’t always know what to say.” He swallowed, looking back up again. “But I am better with silence.” He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes again. “I just mean—”
“If I ever want company in the pain, instead of a pep talk, I know where to go,” Achaia said. Her heart felt like smiling. It felt like a beautiful, but sad, flower had bloomed in her chest. Her face however, remained still.
Noland nodded and went to leave. As he stood in the partially opened doorway, he looked back and into her eyes. “I really am sorry, for everything that’s happened.” Then he left. The door almost shut behind him, when Amelia and Yellaina arrived.
Achaia laid back on her bed. Yellaina looked her over as she came in. “How are you feeling?” She came over and dropped an armful of bottles and jars on Achaia’s bed.
“What’s all that?” Achaia asked. None of them appeared to be labeled.
“Salves, oils, salts, balms, ointments, things to heal you. Nephilim heal pretty quickly, but our healing abilities are amplified by certain herbs and such.” Yellaina sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Take off y
our shirt.”
“What?”
“I need to see all your wounds,” Yellaina said impatiently.
“I’ll leave if I’m making you nervous.” Amelia made fun of Achaia, as she opened the door to the hallway. She left, and Achaia removed her shirt, and jeans. She sat on the bed in a sports bra and her underwear acutely aware of how long it had been since she’d had an actual shower.
“Those demons did a number on you.” She said uncorking a vial of some oil. “This is hyssop. It will make sure none of these get infected or anything. It will also help to soothe.” Yellaina rubbed the oil over Achaia’s face and arms.
“How do you know what each of these are, they aren’t labeled.” Achaia said picking up a tub of some sort of paste.
“You may have noticed I’m not much of a fighter.” Yellaina smiled.
Achaia nodded.
“I’m studying to become a healer, not training to become a Guardian.”
“That makes sense.” Achaia said, wincing as Yellaina applied some sort of green gunk to the gash on her head, where her face had slammed into the tree branch. She put the same paste on Achaia’s hand where she had grabbed Lussa by his teeth. Yellaina wrapped her hand, and went into the bathroom. Achaia could hear her turn the tap to draw a bath.
When she followed her into the bathroom, Yellaina was pouring stuff from several of the jars into the hot water.
“Soak in there, drink lots of water, and go straight to bed,” Yellaina said in a mothering tone, handing her a bottle of water.
“Yes ma’am.” Achaia smiled.
Yellaina walked out the door, and went to close it behind her. “We’ll just be next door, discussing the plan for tomorrow.”
“That’s nice,” Achaia said bluntly. “Y’all go do that. I’m excited about this bath!”
Yellaina smiled.
“Hey,” Achaia called. “Thanks.”
Yellaina smiled again. “Just don’t get your head or hand wet.” She said pointing to the spots that had gotten the gunk. Then she shut the door and was gone.
As Achaia ran the bathwater, she thought of her dad. She wondered where he was, if he was okay, if he was scared, if he was worried about her—
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