“The council? I haven’t heard anything official. I’ll have to wait and talk to the head of the Moscow safe house to be sure.” Noland took a sip of his coffee which was steaming hot. He didn’t flinch.
“Are you worried?” Achaia asked.
Noland swallowed and shook his head. “The world has to end eventually, Kaya.”
Achaia swallowed hard, with no appetite left.
Shael strode into the arena with all of the arrogance of a baboon in pants. Most of the demons ignored him, as they carried on their speculations about who would win which matches. Shael however, marched straight up to the stand that Luc’s seat was in, and through the crowd seated there, until he stood a few rows below Luc.
Luc looked down at him with poorly disguised curiosity. “So,” Shael started, getting the attention of all of the demons seated between him and Luc. They all stopped talking, hissing, or whatever some of them were doing and stared. “What are the rules here exactly?” Shael asked. “Can I challenge anyone for rank?”
“Well, I would suggest challenging someone higher than you, but yes.” Luc smiled, his eyes alight with intrigue. Shael knew he had Luc’s attention. He also knew he needed to make this fun for him.
Shael pointed instantly at the nearest demon to his right, catching it off guard. “You.” The demon looked startled. “Are you higher ranked than me?”
The demon, who was rather bulbous and unintimidating, looked at Luc, as if for help, then back to Shael before nodding. Shael smiled a fierce and crazy smile. “I challenge you.” He jabbed his finger at the demon as if already triumphant.
The demon looked taken aback. He sat in his seat, and looked at the demons around him as if for intervention.
“Like, now.” Shael said, to clarify, nodding toward the cage down on the floor.
The demon gulped, and again looked up to Luc, a question in his eyes, as if asking if Shael were serious.
“I’m confused,” Shael said, though he clearly wasn’t. “What’s wrong with it?” He looked up at Luc with a look of mock befuddlement. “Is it scared?” Luc smiled and shrugged, staring at the demon. Shael lit up with facetiousness. “Are you scared?” He asked looking back over to the demon.
If the demon had eyebrows, they would have been raised on its flat gray wombat-like face. Its massive eyes were wide like terrified orbs.
Shael made a show of rolling his eyes, and caught a glimpse of Luc smiling. “You are a demon.” Shael pointed out bluntly. “Eternally bound to Hell,” he added. “Damned,” he stated as if to put an exclamation mark on his point. “What in the hell do you have to lose?” Shael asked, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world.
The demon looked around at all of his fellow demons surrounding him and shrugged meekly. A demon somewhere in the back of the crowd called out “Rank!”
The wombat demon looked relieved that someone had generated a response, and nodded his agreement enthusiastically.
“Rank?” Shael asked exasperated. “Is that all you care about?” He asked looking around at the crowd of demonic faces.
They all looked at each other, shrugged, and nodded.
Shael squinted at them all in exaggerated disbelief. “Wow. This really is Hell isn’t it?” Shael looked nonchalantly at Luc, and shrugged. “I am an island, in a sea of idiots,” he sighed dramatically. “So are you done stalling?” he looked back to his opponent.
The wombat demon frowned. Shael didn’t know that the corners of a mouth could go so far down without taking the rest of the mouth with it. He allowed himself to laugh.
Luc laughed, too. “Go on then!” he ordered.
Shael led the way down to the cage, and opened the door for the wombat demon.
“What’s your name?” Shael asked, as the door was closed and locked behind them. “I feel like I probably should have asked that sooner.” He said flippantly.
“Gaki,” the demon answered, swallowing hard.
“Oh wow. That’s an intimidating name.” Shael shuddered.
“Really?” The demon asked.
“No.” Shael winced and shook his head. “Actually, that’s a really lame name. It’s like, it’s part of your punishment or something.” Shael heard Luc laugh at his jab, and smiled. Shael went to a corner of the cage and warmed up with a few butterfly kicks.
When he looked back over to Gaki, the demon made a choking sound, wet himself, and promptly passed out. Shael was genuinely surprised and looked around in confusion. “Does that count?” He called to Luc.
Luc looked disappointed, and a little amused. He cocked an eyebrow and shrugged in a way that said ‘I guess?’
“How far up did I just move?” Shael beamed.
Lucifer laughed.
The rest of the group slowly trickled down to breakfast, at which point Achaia was completely filled in on the plan for the day. She and the guys told Amelia and Yellaina their sizes, and Achaia gave Yellaina a stern look as she told her specifically not to buy her anything pink. Amelia assured her, they would only buy her sweaters with unicorns on them, and the two girls set off.
Achaia had asked why Emile and Olivier didn’t just purchase the train tickets online, or on an app, and Noland had explained to her that demons could trace the transaction too easily. They frequently possessed computer hackers, just to keep an eye on things. Which, Achaia silently thought, explained why her father had always gotten cash out of ATMs, instead of using a card.
Emile and Olivier left the hotel with Achaia and Noland, after they collected the bags from their rooms. They had tossed everything that was too worn to keep. What was left, Achaia and Noland packed into their own bags to take to the laundromat.
Achaia now sat staring at a dryer, watching the clothes spin in circles. A white sock had grabbed her focus, and her eyes followed it around and around amongst all the dark jeans, and t-shirts.
“What are you thinking about?” Noland asked, as he sat down next to her, after going to get more coins.
“Strangely, nothing. Except that I wear a lot of grey.” Achaia smiled, cocking an eyebrow at the drier contents. “It was actually kind of nice.”
Noland huffed as he smiled. “You know, as a kid, I always wanted to get in the drier.”
Achaia looked up at him cocking her eyebrow again.
“My dad would never turn it on– said I was bound to be concussed.” He smiled, looking down at his hands, which lay in his lap, fingers twiddling. “It just looked like it would be so much fun. I was drawn to the heat too. I was always curling up in the laundry that my mom had gotten out to fold.”
“I love that too.” Achaia smiled. “There’s nothing like warm sheets.”
Noland smiled, still looking at his hands. “I always loved the jeans, the metal buttons were always so much hotter.”
Achaia laughed as she nodded.
“She always used to say I made them warmer,” he reminisced. “That I made everything warmer,” he said quietly.
Achaia sat in silence, not wanting to interrupt whatever pleasant memories he was thinking of. “What was she like?” she asked after a few minutes.
Noland looked up at the dryer again. She could see the wheels of his mind spinning, as if his eyes were mirrors staring at the dryer. “Warm.” He said plainly.
Achaia nodded. She had been hoping for a bit more, but she wasn’t going to push it.
“I mean,” Noland went on, to her surprise. “I remember she smelled like cinnamon. She loved that candy, like red hots. When she walked into a room, it was like Christmas.”
“Because she smelled like cinnamon?” Achaia asked.
“Because everywhere she went, she brought joy. She had a gift for cheering people up, encouragement. She just made people happy.”
“Was that her spiritual gift?” Achaia asked.
“Nah, that was fire, like me.” Noland said, “but, the rest of it was God-given too.” He smiled as the timer on the dryer went off. Noland checked the clothes, and added some more change to the ma
chine, resetting the cycle.
“Do you remember anything about your mom?” Noland asked, sitting back down next to her.
Achaia thought for a moment. “I don’t know.” She had an image in her head. She was in a kitchen sink, and there was sun coming in through a window behind her. Her mother stood over her, bathing her. She was beautiful. A chunk of red curls, dangled down in her face; Achaia grabbed it and pulled. “I think I might, but I’m not even sure if it’s real. Or if I made the memory up.” She looked away from him. “You know, so I’d have something to hold on to.” Achaia uncrossed her legs, and tapped the toes of her shoes under her chair.
“Yeah,” Noland said, fiddling with his fingers again. “I don’t even know if the memories I have are accurate. Sometimes, I think I may have romanticized them, so they are worth keeping. Like I created the company I wanted, so I wouldn’t be alone.”
Achaia looked up at him, and he looked back at her. “I can’t imagine,” she whispered.
Noland cocked a questioning eyebrow.
“I mean. I can’t remember what it was like to have a mom. And I don’t remember losing her. I’ve just never had her. And my dad—” Achaia broke off.
“He isn’t gone,” Noland finished. “Achaia, I don’t want you to imagine it. But I really don’t want you to experience it.”
Achaia could feel the familiar soreness growing in the back of her throat, like she was trying really hard to swallow a boulder. “They hate him. They aren’t going to help me, are they?” Achaia asked, her voice cracking and weak.
“I don’t want to promise you something, if I can’t keep it,” Noland said sadly.
Achaia felt the hot, rebellious tears run silently down her cheeks.
“I’m not going to lie to you. It doesn’t sound good. The silence in the Americas, the increase in the loss of Charges—” Noland swallowed hard, looking down at her. “It all started, when your dad disappeared.”
“It’s not him doing all of this!” Achaia said urgently, trying to keep her voice low. “He couldn’t.”
“Achaia, I don’t think that he is. I think he was taken. But the council seems to think he went willingly, and—”
“And what?” Achaia asked, feeling a black hole opening up in her chest, threatening to swallow any ounce of hope she had left.
“These Nephilim have seen your father annihilate nations, entire armies. They wouldn’t question whether or not he is capable of it. They know he is.”
“So that’s it then? I should just write him off?” Achaia asked on the edge of outrage.
“No. Not at all. I think we just have to look elsewhere for help,” Noland said. He put a hand over hers on her lap.
They sat in silence for a minute as Achaia tried to steady her breathing. “How do you live after that? How do you do it all alone?” She asked.
“I’m not alone,” Noland said, sounding a little choked. He put his arm tightly around her shoulders. “And I swear to you, you never will be, either.”
After paying a small fortune to get the laundry done at the laverie, they took a long cab ride to the café to meet the others for lunch. The corner restaurant looked as French as Achaia could have hoped. It had checker-board tile floors, white subway tile covered walls, and long skinny booth seats with tiny café tables and chairs. She wished it was warm enough to eat out on the sidewalk, but being that it was the end of January, it was far too frigid.
The Saint-Regis, Achaia decided was worth its name. She thought there was something holy about it, and she would be happy to sing the cooks’ praises. She decided not to mention that to the others.
They ate mostly in silence, since the food was so good. Achaia ordered the croque monsieur because Emile said she had to, and Olivier said she couldn’t leave France without trying it. She wasn’t disappointed. As far as sandwiches went, it was pretty much heaven in her mouth.
Noland had ordered the croque madame, and said it was the main reason he wanted to meet there for lunch. Apparently, he had fallen in love with the place the last time he had come with the DuBois siblings to visit their parents.
“This is one of mom and dad’s favorite places. They are regulars here, when they’re home,” Emile said. He finished off his escargot, which Achaia thought looked especially disgusting since they were seasoned with something that made them green. Olivier ordered a hamburger and Achaia had made fun of him for it, since he was French, and in France, and that was the most American looking thing on the menu. Yellaina ate some sort of salad, and Amelia chose something that looked way too sophisticated for Achaia to guess at from the opposite end of the table.
Once they were done with lunch, they sat divvying up the clothes, cleaned and new, and packed their own bags. Achaia was pleased that not a single sweater had a unicorn on it. “She tried to buy you purple since you said no to pink,” Amelia said, as they ordered crepes for desert, “But I thought it might have been too close. You usually wear grey, so I told her to stick to neutrals.”
“But I did weasel this one in!” Yellaina said pulling out an emerald green sweater from a bag and yanking the tags off. “I thought it would look lovely with your hair!” She smiled wide as she passed it over Olivier to Achaia.
It was perhaps the softest sweater she had ever felt, though a little more colorful than she would have usually bought for herself. “Thank you,” she said, folding it neatly before putting it in her bag.
“And we got layers,” Yellaina said handing her a handful of white tank tops, and a few pairs of leggings that were lined with fleece.
“Goodness,” Achaia said, struggling to fit anything more into her bag. “Are we never going home?” she joked.
Everyone went a little quiet.
Achaia looked up and around at all of their faces. “We are going home after all this, right?”
Silence.
“Guys?”
“It just all depends, doesn’t it?” Yellaina said awkwardly.
“If we find your dad, and we get him back, then yeah. If you’re in danger, then your best chance is to stay at the safe house,” Emile said as comfortingly as he could.
“But there’s a chance, if it comes down to it, and you need to join the Nephilim ranks on your own,” Noland put tactfully, “you’ll be assigned an institute where you’ll go train.”
“It just may not necessarily be in New York,” Amelia put bluntly. “Nephilim try to break any excessive ties to family or home, and send you off. Hence, none of us are from America, and we are all stationed in New York.”
“Who decides where I go? Do I have a say?” Achaia asked, trying to wrap her mind around all of this new information.
“The council will take your vote into account. But, if it isn’t what they think is best, it won’t count for much.” Amelia said shrugging. “They are protectors by nature, ruthless, and efficient. Not many Nephilim are known for their kindness and compassion,” she added, with a smile at her twin.
“Right, then…” Achaia nodded, thinking that for now, acceptance was better than dwelling on the uncertainty of what was to come.
The table fell silent again, until Yellaina gently broke it. “We got you this, too,” She said handing over a thick wool peacoat, “and I made sure it was grey.” She smiled pathetically. Achaia couldn’t not smile at her face.
The train station was crowded, but it was eerily quiet, as the café had also been. Achaia could feel the city mourning the terrorist attacks they had suffered. The day itself seemed to be in mourning as the sky was cloaked in a thick layer of cloud cover.
Night fell early and cold, making Achaia dread the even colder temperatures they were heading to in Russia.
Achaia studied the crowds around her. Mothers impatiently shoved their progeny along the platforms toward the exit. Businessmen pushed through crowds, inadvertently knocking others aside on their way home from meetings that had gone poorly. Tourists gawked at maps as they looked around confused, asking in broken French for directions. Achaia took it all i
n as if it were happening in slow motion. There was so much hustle and bustle, but what she really saw was life.
All these people had lives, families, hopes, aspirations… some were excited, others stressed, and others bored out of their minds with the daily grind of it all. The scene struck her as beautiful and sad at the same time. She used to be one of them, a normal human being. Now, she wasn’t sure how human she really was at all.
“It’s going to leave with or without us,” Noland said, turning around to look at her.
Achaia woke from her revelry and followed after him, not even getting annoyed with his impatience. She was getting used to it now. She followed the others onto a train car and down the narrow hall to find their cabins. Achaia, Noland, Yellaina, and Olivier were in a four bed share, and Emile and Amelia were in a two bed share.
Achaia knew this whole misadventure had been particularly hard on Amelia since the plane accident. She was still limping a little, and would wince if she moved wrong at times. And Achaia couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for Emile’s fatigue. He looked pale, and had bags under his eyes. She could tell he was wiped. This had been a stressful trip for all of them, but he had had to suffer under the weight of everyone’s distress. She was glad they would have a nice long train ride, away from everything and everyone, and a chance to just rest.
Noland was on edge. His senses were running on the caffeine from the espresso he had had at the restaurant. He had insisted on getting to the station early to scope it out, and make sure that he didn’t spot anyone suspicious scoping out the train. When the train arrived, he and Emile had walked the length of it, to see if Emile could feel anything hostile or out of place. Only when Emile had confirmed that everything seemed peaceful, aside from normal traveler’s anxieties, did Noland finally take a seat.
They waited patiently until they were called to board. Noland led the way to their compartments, and checked them before allowing Achaia inside. He took the seat closest to the door, in case anyone attempted to come in. He knew he was acting paranoid, but the volume of people on and around the train was setting his teeth on edge.
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