by Brian Fuller
“Thanks,” Helo said, doing a few shoulder rolls.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “It’s good to have you back. And great job tonight, Melody. You were amazing.”
Melody merely nodded.
“See you tomorrow!” Corinth said. “Can’t wait to see the Unascended in action!”
Helo waved as they walked off. Melody stared daggers at Scarlet’s back.
“You okay?” Helo asked.
Melody leaned against the tree and folded her arms. “How can you stand it? How can you even look at her? I know what she did to you. I hope that doesn’t make you mad. Lear told me the whole story. I’m so sorry! I just don’t see how anyone could do . . . that . . . to you.”
Helo was taken aback. She was furious. “Melody. It’s okay. We’ve moved on.”
She looked away. “Because of you and Aclima.”
“With or without Aclima, I had to move on.”
“But still,” Melody said. “You’re going to tell me it doesn’t kill you to see her all cozy with Corinth?”
“Hasn’t killed me yet.”
“Whatever that means,” Melody said, pulling him after her. “Come on. I’ve got the katanas in my tent. I’m guessing you’ll want yours. Do you take them with you on missions?”
“No. Guns are better,” he said. “Katanas can be good for quiet work, though. Dolorem wouldn’t do guns after what happened to your real father. He’s the one who taught me the katana. Have they told you about the Redemption Motorcycle Club?”
“Yes,” she said. “Sounds so like my dad.”
“Just imagine two guys morphed and dressed like bikers. We had these big guts and greasy clothes and spent our nights swinging katanas at each other in a repair garage. I hope nobody saw us.”
Melody laughed. “That sounds fantastic. I wish I could have known him as an Ash Angel. I miss him.”
“I do too. He loved you,” Helo said. “I should take you to see the RMC—if it’s still around.”
“I would love that,” she said, face beaming.
It was weird to be around someone as happy as she was. Using her phone for light, she led him down the path she had shown him earlier, her tent back off the trail a ways between two mature trees. She opened the flap and went inside, and he followed. She flicked on an LED lamp hanging from a loop at the apex of the tent. Her tent had two cots. Three sheathed katanas lay underneath hers, along with a pad of drawing paper.
She turned and then closed her eyes. “I forgot my guitar. I’ll be right back.”
After she left, Helo sat on the cot that had belonged to Goliath. Curious, he reached down and grabbed the pad of drawing paper from under Melody’s cot. A pencil fell to the floor, and he grabbed it and stuck it back inside. He opened a few of the pages, finding sketches and lyrics. Melody was quite the artist, too, and there was something familiar about her style he couldn’t place.
There was the angel in chains, a moody sketch with a broken picture frame at the angel’s feet. This was the song about Goldbow. There was the haunted-house picture of the tree with his face on it from the dream that seemed constructed of his pain. There were happier sketches, of landscapes and buildings. A couple of him. There was even one of Aclima with the words “Miss Gorgeous” next to it.
But one toward the end caught his eye. It was another picture, just of his face, with the words: for every hurt, a hope; for every loss, a love; for every Satan, a savior. Those were Rachel the Unascended’s words to him back in the reliquarium before she ascended. How did Melody know them?
Footsteps approached outside, and he flipped the sketchbook shut and shoved it back under the cot just before Melody slipped into the tent, guitar case in hand. She leaned it against the tent wall. “I’m back. Let me get your sword. You’ll want Aclima’s, too, I guess.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She pushed her hair behind her ear and knelt down, pulling out two of the katanas and handing them to him. He took them, partially unsheathing them, then snapped them back in. The blades still looked shiny and sharp.
“So, Helo,” she said, taking a seat on the cot opposite him, “you ready for tomorrow?”
“Good to go,” he said, though he reminded himself that he needed to meditate so Rapture would fill him to overflowing with Virtus. He didn’t have a fancy Ash Angel phone anymore to let him know when dawn was going to break.
“I’ve never been in a battle,” she said. “Not really. Goliath and I were training apart from everyone for the first while since I was awakened. I was at Zion Beta when it fell, but Shujaa practically shoved Goliath and me out the door before the real fighting got started.”
“Never been torched?” Helo asked.
“No,” she said.
“No Bestowals yet?”
“No. But I’m ready,” she added. “Like Grand Archus Mars said, we all have to be Michaels now. I wish I was good enough to be assigned to Sicarius Nox so I could fight with you. Um, I mean, you know, Sicarius Nox. It’s like being a rock star.”
He chuckled. “Look, this fight we’re going to, it’s not for you. This is not a battle you throw at a Cherub.”
“I’m fighting,” she said, arms folded, face set. “I had two of the best of the best training me for months. I’m probably more qualified than half the people they’re going to send out there.” She reached out and touched his leg. “Helo, I’m not the freaked out, cray-cray girl you had to help back in that hotel room. You’ve got to trust me. Dolorem gave you that sanctified sword to give to me for a reason. That’s what Goliath said. I am supposed to fight. Maybe if I kill a Sheid or two, they’ll let me work in Sicarius Nox.”
Helo’s stomach felt like stone. So naive. He wished he could give her just a little taste of what torching was like so she could understand. Dolorem had asked him to make her strong, but he’d also told him to protect her. He tried to see Melody through her father’s eyes, tried to understand what Dolorem would say to her in this moment. Dolorem always had the right words. But just like with the sermons, Helo found he didn’t. He just had resolve. He was not going to send this jewel of an Ash Angel into the mud of war if he could help it.
He patted her hand. “I’m not saying you don’t have skills, Melody.”
“But you still think I’m not ready,” she said.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
She swallowed and leaned away. “You’ll see, Helo. I’m meant to do this.”
Helo stood. “I’d better get going. Thanks for the katanas. You did great tonight. Hearing you sing was the best thing that’s happened to me in a while.”
Her green eyes flickered for a moment, and she nodded.
He stepped outside and took the path back toward the road. The soft ground made for quiet walking. Melody. He’d offended her. Someday she would understand, but tomorrow he would talk to Mars after the briefing with Sicarius Nox. He would see to it that Melody was assigned far from the thick of things whether she liked it or not.
Chapter 17
Spade
Helo reported to the command tent at nine with the rest of Sicarius Nox, but Grand Archus Mars and Archus Magdelene led them away from the tents and faces of curious Ash Angels, marching them about a mile into the woods to a bulge in a stream bordered by a beach of worn pebbles. A gray, lichen-stained rock as big as a sedan edged up to the water, the opposite side of the river flanked by a low gray cliff lined with slender trees.
Clear rays of morning sun filtered through the branches, spores floating inside the slanted beams. It was far too pleasant a morning to talk war, but Helo couldn’t fault their new conference room. Mars and Magdelene sat on the rock. Argyle stood at parade rest by them, and the rest sat on the pebbled ground.
“Okay, everybody,” Mars said, hands clenched around the rock’s edge. “You might be wondering why we’re out here in the woods. I want to be straight with you. The AAO’s days are numbered if we don’t win this battle. Avadan has beaten and run us out of every stronghold we have.
Communications are sketchy. Ash Angels are scattering. Our absence has let Legion terrorize normals at will. The Old Masters are doing what they can to help with that, but it’s a mess. So what I’m saying is that we need this one. I’ll let Maggie explain the plan.
Magdelene slid off the rock and stood in front of them. “The only silver lining to our recent losses is that Avadan no longer feels he needs to move by stealth, which has made it easier for us to plot his movements. Dreads have been amassing in the woods about fifty miles from here, barely trying to disguise their movements. My Gabriels have had no trouble locating them.”
“Are they going to hit the camp?” Helo asked.
“No,” Magdelene said. “Something just as vital, a place almost as secret as Deep 7 was.”
“The Foundry,” Andromeda said.
“That’s right,” Magdelene confirmed.
Helo nodded to himself. The Foundry was the hidden weapons and ammunition manufacturing plant. Archus Ramis had betrayed that, too. Maybe Sparks’s offhand comment about running out of ammo wasn’t a joke.
“So we hit their camp,” Sparks said. “Fighting in the woods is a lot of fun. Wood flying everywhere. Fires. Lots of places for ambush.”
“You’ve got the spirit of it,” Magdelene said, “but not quite. Intelligence suggests they’re moving out soon. The Foundry cannot fall. If it does, we’ll be throwing rocks at the Dreads before too long. Fortunately, the Foundry is situated in a narrow river valley with hills all around and is very defensible. We have purposefully made it look well fortified with soldiers so Avadan will bring his full force to bear. Our recon there has seen scouts—Shedim, to be precise—checking the area every day just before sunset.”
“Shedim scouts?” Faramir asked.
“That’s right,” Magdelene said. “And not Whirlwind, either. We all know what that Sheid feels like by now. We think that tonight they’re going to bring on the offensive just before dusk. If the pattern follows, Whirlwind will march in first to soften us up, then the Dreads and Possessed will overrun us. This time, though, we have the opportunity to prepare. This is our plan.
“We’re sending Sicarius Nox in to deal with the Sheid, but we want the Sheid to think it’s succeeded so the Dreads will march into the valley. Ideally, you can put up enough resistance to kill time before dusk. We want to put as few of them down twice as possible. We’re going to secrete forces behind the hills on the northern and southern sides of the valley. As soon as the Dreads pour in, the secreted forces deploy to create a noose they can’t get out of. We decimate them from all sides.”
“Brilliant,” Sparks said. “Can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”
“Helo,” Magdelene said, “you are to stay inside the facility and wait for the Sheid to come to you. With your gifts, you have the best chance to kill it once it wanders indoors to attack the facility. We don’t want to risk you being incapacitated in the first skirmish.”
He nodded. He didn’t like being left out, but he couldn’t argue, either. It was a solid plan.
“Good,” Magdelene said, returning to sit on the rock. “We’ve got a small party of Gabriels who will hit anyone left in their camp and burn any hearts they may have left behind for quick escape. We’ve laid a number of explosive traps for our guests. Be sure you don’t waste them on the Shedim. Mars will command the force to the north. I will take the one to the south. Argyle, you will report to Mars. The base commander is named Spade. He’s one of the oldest Ash Angels around and as mean as a starving badger, which is just what we need right now. Any questions?”
“How are we getting there?” Andromeda asked.
“You’re going to run,” Mars answered. “We created Camp Zion here for a reason. The Foundry is fifteen miles away through some pretty dense woods, but fifteen miles is easy work for an Ash Angel. Remember, this op is burn only, no capture. If they run, chase and burn as many as you can. Everyone except Helo carries a sanctified weapon. We think there are at least five Shedim in the Dread staging area.”
“Five!” Faramir said.
“Yes,” Magdelene said, “but weak compared to Whirlwind. This isn’t going to be easy, but we’ve got faith in you. Get back to camp, gear up, and get going. I’ll send the location to Argyle shortly.”
Sparks stood up. “And we need to be clear about one thing. Helo’s girlfriend gets burned with the rest of them.” His sharp gaze fell on Helo. “You put us in danger for her, I put a bullet in your heart and throw you in the river.”
“Everyone on the team agrees,” Argyle said. “You got that, Helo?”
Everyone except Shujaa looked at him like he was some ex-convict they’d been forced to take on.
“I know what has to be done,” he said flatly. He marched off ahead of the group, tired of the constant reminder that everyone wanted to burn Aclima except for him. He knew their reasons, but he no longer expected them to understand. He would play along, but he would help her if he could.
Back at camp, he geared up before the rest of the team arrived and then headed back to the command tent to find Archus Mars. Camp had become a hive of activity, people gearing up, cleaning weapons, and saying their goodbyes. He found Grand Archus Mars in front of the command tent with Archus Magdelene. Sparks was there too, chatting with both of them.
“Excuse me, sir,” Helo said. “Can I have a moment?”
“Yeah, and just that,” Mars said. “What do you want?”
“I would like to request that Melody not be sent to the front. She’s too valuable to morale to risk in battle. She doesn’t have experience or even a Bestowal. It’s not what Dolorem would have wanted.”
Mars frowned. “Don’t care what Dolorem wanted. Why don’t we ask her what she wants to do? Melody, you want to fight?”
Helo closed his eyes for a moment and turned around. There was Melody not five steps behind him, eyes as cold as death. She had morphed her hair to buzzed for battle, the look edgy. The sanctified katana was in a sheath on her left hip, BBG on her right, and a BBSR on her back
“I want to fight,” she said.
“That’s settled, then,” Mars said. “You’ll be in squad four with me to the north. Helo, get back to your unit. You need to be gone in five.”
“Yes, sir,” Helo said.
Mars turned to Sparks. “That goes for you too, Sparks. Your request is denied, and I don’t want to hear about it again.”
By the time Helo turned around, Melody was ten paces away.
“Hey,” he said, jogging to catch up.
“Go away, Helo,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
He let her go. This was the whole Aclima thing all over again. Melody would probably find him later and take his head off with a katana. He started back toward the Sicarius Nox tents.
Sparks caught up to him. “You know, Helo, you’d probably have more friends if you didn’t try so hard not to.”
Helo wanted to shoot him in the face again. “Is that what you were doing back there with the Grand Archus, making friends? Or were you trying to convince them to leave me out of this one?”
“Not you. We can’t possibly do without his holiness, the Angel Born Unascended,” Sparks said in his best Shujaa voice. “Have a care out there today, Helo. This one’s going to get messy. I can feel it in my Ash Angel bones.”
They crested the northern hill near the Foundry valley in the sweltering heat of early afternoon, the humidity so thick Helo thought his Ash Angel body might just sweat anyway. The insects buzzed enough to drive anyone crazy, but maybe not as crazy as Argyle. Sparks had said he wasn’t the same since the Pit, and now Helo knew why.
Argyle was always a stickler who ran his unit like the regulations were holy scripture, but he seemed more picky and agitated than usual, complaining about noisy gear, insisting they march single file, and putting the hammer down on any conversation whatsoever. Whatever stick was up his butt had grown several inches.
They stopped at the top of the hill, and Helo p
ushed his way up near Andromeda, who had earbuds in, the sound of metal music leaking out. Argyle had reprimanded her for it. She didn’t seem to care. The trees screened the valley almost completely, but there were breaks that revealed a road following a narrow river to what looked like a nondescript white farmhouse flanked by two enormous red barns, their roofs covered in solar panels. A big gray Ford F-350 sat out front in the gravel drive.
Andromeda pulled an earbud out. “That’s it. Not going to be much left of it after today. The lawn will look nice after we spread a little Dread-brand fertilizer on it.”
“Most of the complex is underground,” Faramir said. “There’s a hydroelectric generator farther downriver.”
“We can discuss this later,” Argyle said, voice barely above a whisper. “Keep the noise down. We don’t know who or what may be out here. Fall in.”
Argyle stumbled on a protruding root and barely kept his balance. Helo waited for his assigned spot in line—last. Argyle told him it was because he was last in seniority, and maybe that was true, but it felt more like it was to put him in his place and reinforce the message that he wanted him gone.
Sparks passed Helo and mouthed the word crazy.
Argyle ordered them to keep to the trees and sneak into the complex from the east side behind the barns. They bushwhacked down the hill and followed the river, marching deep inside the tree line, Argyle nervously glancing about as if he expected the Dreads to pour over the hill at any second. Helo kept expecting to run into an Ash Angel patrol or some sign the people in the Foundry had prepared against the upcoming assault, but whatever preparations they had made were cleverly hidden. They were even with the farmhouse and barns to their left, but still no sign of anyone.
“There’s a bridge across the river,” Faramir said, checking his watch.
Argyle put a finger to his lips, eyes bulging a shut-up stare to Faramir. And it finally struck Helo what Argyle feared: an ambush. At least that’s what it seemed like. Everyone else seemed to consider this friendly territory, but Argyle was now sneaking forward at a snail’s pace, head on a swivel.
