A Mystery of Light

by Brian Fuller

  Melody’s guitar case was slung over her shoulder, and after he dismissed the team, she turned toward the clearing. Mars had called a full camp meeting again, probably to spread the news and to try to put a spin on it that wouldn’t scare everyone to death. It didn’t start for an hour, though.

  “Melody,” he said. “Hold up.”

  She turned toward him and worked up a smile, but her eyes were sad, heavy. “Yeah?”

  “What’s with the guitar?” he asked.

  “Oh, Mars wants Lear and me to provide a little entertainment tonight. Brighten the mood, I guess.”

  “Look,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. I know going into the desecration is going to be tough, but we’re all they’ve got, really.”

  “The desecration’s not what’s bothering me,” she said. “Well, it bothers me, but it’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “What is it?”

  She looked down the road that led out of camp for a moment. “Maybe later,” she said. “I’ve got to get going. Haven’t had time to practice. See you around.”

  She walked away. He kind of liked the whole gypsy outfit on her. It suited her in a weird way. Still, she was upset, and he knew why: He’d forced her to stay behind in the lair. Or maybe it was Scarlet. Probably both. He’d have to find a way to make it up to her. He disliked seeing Melody upset about as much as he’d disliked seeing Aclima angry

  .

  Helo leaned against his customary tree, Shujaa towering behind him as usual. A front of clouds raced past above them—a normal storm—threatening rain at any minute. The air smelled wet and heavy, the wind inspiring the branches to dance above him. Mars kicked off the meeting relating the details of the raid on the amusement park to an audience as quiet and still as the grave. Melody and Lear sat on the stage, a promise that something better would follow the dark news they were all about to get.

  A hand touched his arm. “Hey, Helo.” Scarlet. She stood close, brown eyes like liquid chocolate.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Is it true?” she said.

  “What?”

  “That Sicarius Nox is heading back into the desecration of Kansas City.” She seemed concerned.

  “Yep. Finding Avadan’s the only way we stop this. He’s in there somewhere. Where’s Corinth?”

  “His team of Blanks left for Saint Louis already,” she said. “A Michael team will follow a couple hours behind.”

  “I bet you miss him,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything, but he could feel her eyes on him from time to time while Mars revealed the horrifying scene, recounting the boy’s heart in the Loremaster’s chest and the burning table.

  “You saw that?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She rubbed his arm. “That is awful. What did you do?”

  “Just listen,” he said. “He’ll tell it.”

  “I’d rather hear it from you,” she pressed.

  He ignored her. Luckily, Mars didn’t go into too much detail about how banged up he’d been. He did highlight Melody taking down Jumelia, which brought a hearty round of applause. Helo smiled. She was becoming a legend in her own right. She was still so modest, still acting like she didn’t deserve the praise. He loved that about her. Still, it seemed wrong that someone with such a gift for song was forced to bang it out on the front lines. If only Dolorem could see her now.

  When Mars finished up the story, he scanned the crowd. “Helo? You out there?”

  “He’s over here!” Scarlet yelled.

  Helo raised his hand, and everyone turned toward him for a moment. The look on Melody’s face was murder, for Scarlet, of course. Why did Melody hate her so much? That was all ancient history.

  “Helo,” Mars continued, “will lead Sicarius Nox back to Kansas City to hunt the old bastard down and put an end to this. Hoorah!”

  “Hoorah!” the crowd yelled.

  “We cannot thank him enough for what he’s done,” Mars continued. “It is the unanimous agreement of the Archai—and unity is much easier now that there’s just three of us—that Helo be given the rank of Archus and that once his hunt is over, he will assume command of the Michaels division.”

  Helo froze. An Archus? Scarlet hugged him. The crowd applauded and whistled. Why would they want him to be an Archus? Why would he want to be one? And the biggest question of all, had Archus Ebenezer actually gone along with the idea, or had Mars sat on him until he agreed? It was probably just a stunt, something to boost morale.

  “That is so great,” Scarlet said. “You deserve it. You absolutely do.”

  “Thanks,” he said. She hung on to his arm, her soft body against his.

  Mars motioned for quiet again. “Now, before we get to the entertainment, and before it starts raining, I want to show you something. Most of you have never seen a Dread Loremaster. I want to show you one. Bring her out.”

  Helo stood up straight. Was he really going to trot Jumelia out on the stage? She was dangerous! She could torch the entire crowd with a thought. He was sure she would. Why wouldn’t she?

  Four Michaels marched Jumelia out in front of a dead-quiet audience. One of them Hallowed a space around her, and Helo relaxed. They’d dressed her in some ill-fitting black fatigues and chained her wrists so thickly not even a Strength-powered yank could break them. From a distance, he could almost believe she was Aclima, but her pretty face was done up in a scowl of hatred so deep it was almost as good as a torching, her red aura a lonely island in a sea of white.

  “Here she is,” Mars said. “Jumelia, first wife of Cain, and Avadan’s aunt. She’s six thousand years old and has made Shedim and Dreads for her entire miserable existence. She has killed Ash Angels, hidden all over this world to escape us, and has lived a life of undeserved luxury. She helped Avadan become whatever it is he’s turned into. Today she answers for her crimes. She’s asked that Helo be the one to burn her, and we’ve agreed.”

  “Take her out, Helo,” Scarlet said, letting go of his arm.

  This was wrong. It had to be some kind of trick. But what could she do to him, really? He took his time getting there, the sea of expectant faces following him like a flower followed the sun. Jumelia regarded him coldly, standing tall in her shackles, defiant and proud to the last. He felt stupid in his khaki shorts and breezy, tan shirt.

  Helo stopped about five feet from her, and a Michael came forward and laid a Stinger in his hand. Her gaze didn’t flinch.

  “You’re wondering why I want you to do this, aren’t you?” Jumelia said. “You think I have some trick up my sleeve. Some retribution for you taking my sister away from me. It’s easier than that. You’re the best and strongest the Ash Angels have, and if an Ash Angel is going to take me out of this world, I want the one who’s worth something to do it. Only the best, Cain used to say. And that’s how I’ve lived. But I want to deliver this last message to you: the time of the Ash Angels is over. My nephew will see to that. You won’t long outlive me. Now do it. Do it and be done.”

  She closed her eyes, and Helo rammed the Stinger into her chest. He depressed the plunger, and two seconds later the micro explosive burned her heart to ash. Her fatigues dropped to the ground, dust spilling out of the sleeves and pants.

  A cheer broke into the night, and Helo tossed the spent Stinger syringe into the crowd, a souvenir for some lucky Ash Angel to keep as a memento. He returned to the tree, where Scarlet waited for him with a big smile and shining eyes.

  Shujaa nodded to him. “Only one more, Angel Born, then there will be rest.”

  He hoped so. Ascension was starting to sound good.

  Mars announced the music, and Melody led out, her celestial voice a defiance to the darkness of the night and the darkness in their hearts. While she seemed more restrained and thoughtful than the first time he saw her perform for the Ash Angels, her music carried power that seemed supernatural to him. Then again, even when she was a mortal it had seemed that way.

  He felt Scarlet’s eyes on him
again, and he glanced at her.

  “What?”

  “You’re so different now,” Scarlet said after the first song ended. “The man I married didn’t have the strength you do now. You just . . . radiate it. Where did you get it?”

  He turned his attention back to Melody, who was adjusting the tuning of her guitar and announcing her next song, “Back Again,” another favorite of his.

  “I don’t know where I got it,” he said. “I just know it was the hard way.”

  “You still retreat inside yourself,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”

  That was one thing he was sure she hadn’t liked about him, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d have his dark moments and sink into his own head, using puzzles as a way to get out. He was sure it drove her crazy.

  Scarlet stuck by him for the rest of the concert, which only lasted about half an hour. A drop of rain would plop down on his shoulder or his head every minute or so, the storm giving them fair warning before it dumped on them. As Melody’s final song ended, a drizzle set in, the trees swaying with a little more vigor. Everyone dashed out of the clearing, making for tents, but the rain hadn’t penetrated the canopy where he stood.

  “Come see me,” Scarlet said, squeezing his arm. “I’ve had a lot going on in my head lately.”

  Just then, Melody walked by with a sour look on her face.

  “Great job,” Helo said, but she had already passed and just kept on going.

  “See ya,” Scarlet said.

  He nodded. What could possibly be going on in her head that she would want to talk about? She looked back at him with a smile—that one smile he knew so well—and his heart sank. Really? Was that what it was? He couldn’t say for sure, not until she told him, but the thought of it made him furious. Did she suddenly like him again because he was more like his brother, more in command, more famous? And what about Corinth?

  Then Lear was there, carrying a folded pile of clothes and some boots. He joined him under the tree.

  Lear smiled at him. “Congrats on being elevated to Archus. You didn’t know, did you?”

  “No. No, I did not.”

  Lear chuckled. “That’s what I thought. I haven’t seen you look that surprised since I hit you with my Buick when you were a Cherub. I miss that car. It’s got a dent that reminds me of you. Anyway, I scrounged up some clothes for you so you don’t have to walk around camp looking like you’re hunting tigers or something.”

  Helo grabbed the proffered clothes. “I owe you one.”

  “This tree ain’t gonna help much longer,” Lear said. “Better get inside, or you could join me in a little production of “Singing in the Rain.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Lear jogged off. Helo returned to his tent and changed, the rain finally settling into a nice, steady downpour. His mind kept running everywhere. Avadan. Their mission to find him. Scarlet. Saint Louis. Being an Archus. His cramped, agitated mind made his tent feel like a prison. He needed space to think.

  He grabbed a headlamp and stepped outside, the rain falling softly. He stood in front of the tent for a moment, closing his eyes while the water dripped down his face. Walking in the rain as an Ash Angel came with none of the cold and tactile discomfort of falling water. Squishy socks were still a bother, but his standard-issue boots did a decent job of keeping his feet dry.

  Sparks stuck his head out. “Where are you going?”

  “To clear my head,” he said. “I’ll be back before long, and we’ll talk strategy.”

  He tromped down the empty road, keeping to the middle as the ruts slowly turned into puddles and little rivers of mud. About a half mile out of camp, he ran into the sentries, who stopped him for a moment. No aura meant they had to check. He flared his Strength, which popped an aura for a second and satisfied them.

  And he kept on walking.

  Trees loomed over him like a cavern ceiling sometimes, and at others the canopy split open, his headlamp beam shooting a column of light up into total darkness. The rutted road into camp was a crappy twenty-two miles long. He had half a mind to walk the whole thing, but the darkness and the rain didn’t empty his mind like he hoped they would. It felt like his brain was filling with water and drowning, but of all the thoughts in his head, it was Melody’s sour expression that kept floating to the top.

  He needed to talk to her, see if he could get that smile back on her face again. As weird as her upbeat attitude about their missions had been, he missed it now that it was gone. He stopped, shoes sinking a little in the mud. The winding road stretched away into a soggy abyss ahead of him. It felt like where he’d been walking for months, a path that seemed to start and end nowhere. He didn’t want to walk in the dark anymore.

  He spun on his heel and trudged back up the road. Even the vegetated middle where he walked was a soppy mess now, and he ended up on his knees twice as he climbed one of the gentle hills the road went over rather than around. This time he flared his Strength when he first spotted the sentries’ auras so he wouldn’t end up with rifles in his face.

  But before he had reached the outermost boundaries of camp, squishy steps coming toward him pulled his gaze up. Melody. She still had the gypsy costume from Avadan’s collection but had morphed her hair to buzzed instead of pulling it back into a ponytail. She had a headlamp on too, but what caught his eye were the two katanas she carried in her arms, still in their scabbards. Her green eyes were set, lips in a line.

  “Melody?”

  She stopped about fifteen feet away and threw a katana at him. He caught it.

  “Prepare yourself,” she said. She removed her shirt and let her skirt fall, leaving her in her underwear and a sports bra. She kicked the clothes aside and pulled the katana from its scabbard and tossed the scabbard by a tree to her left.

  What was this? She stood before him half naked, barefoot, katana out and forward, ready to strike.

  “I said prepare yourself!”

  Chapter 26

  Pool

  He opened his mouth and shut it. She was serious. Well, if she wanted to play slice and dice, he would do it. He pulled off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and doffed his pants.

  He raised his katana. “Is this what you wanted?”

  “No Bestowals,” was all she said. Then she charged. Her sword arced down at his head, and he blocked it, but she kept pushing forward and sneaked in a thrust kick to his midsection. Without the mud, the backward step he took for balance might have worked, but his boot just slid. He would have done the splits if he hadn’t thrown himself to the right to escape a slice that would have taken his head off.

  He rolled onto his feet and faced her down, but she didn’t hesitate, pressing in again with an aggressive series of quick strikes he struggled to block. The headlamp in his eyes didn’t help. He hammered the last strike down, stepped in, and shoved her backward. She avoided the mud somehow and kept her feet.

  “What are we doing out here, Melody?” he asked.

  “Helping the blind to see,” she said, snaking in with some tentative thrusts that had him sucking in his belly.

  “Is this about Scarlet?”

  She roared and came at him hard. One thing for sure, she was a lot better than he thought she would be, quick and tricky and relentless. He counterattacked and scored a cut to her waist, but before he could even think to gloat, she roundhouse kicked him to the hollow of his left knee, and he collapsed onto it. Again she came across with a shot at his head, which he barely blocked, but he didn’t block the snap kick that came up under his guard and drilled him in the chin. He fell back into the mud.

  But instead of coming for him, she prowled around in a circle. “It doesn’t bother you,” she said, “that Scarlet is trying to get back into your heart again?”

  “She is not,” he said, but he wasn’t sure he meant it. Wasn’t he just thinking the same thing?

  “Blind!” she said, hammering down at him from above, forcing him to block her from the ground. He kicked her legs out, and she
went down. He scrambled at her, but she bicycle kicked him away and he retreated. Mud covered the both of them now, Melody looking all the fiercer.

  “Look, Melody,” he said. “I can take care of myself. I am not getting back with Scarlet. Not ever. Why do you hate her?”

  “Why?” she said, face incredulous. Then she attacked him again, and they went after each other full-bore for a couple minutes. The match was even. He threw everything he knew at her, but she countered it all. And he held his own against her, though he had to admit she had more moves than he did. But two advantages he did have: weight and reach.

  He baited her into another quick exchange, parrying hard, and then he dropped his sword and bull-rushed her, going low. He drove his shoulder into her belly, his arms around her legs, and dropped her into the mud. They landed with a squelch. She brought her sword over, but he grabbed her arm and trapped it, straddling her belly.

  “Why do you hate her?” he asked again.

  Her green eyes flashed. “Because she had you and hurt you. Where does she get off even talking to you after what she did? And don’t tell me it’s all in the past. I had dreams about you, remember? I know how bad she hurt you.”

  It was an answer, but did he believe it? “If I can forgive her, maybe you can too. But that’s not it, is it?”

  She Strength bucked him off and rolled, shooting over and taking the dominant position on top of him. He could have resisted, but she had dropped her sword now. This wasn’t about fighting anymore. She threw off her headlamp and slipped his off as well. Her face hovered above him, water dripping off her chin and sliding down his chest.

  “Look,” she said, some of the fury draining out of her eyes. “I hate her because you were supposed to be mine. I’ve dreamed about you from the time I was a little girl. I drew pictures of you. I didn’t know if you were real or not until you pulled me out of that trunk when the Sheid kidnapped me at my own concert. You were happy in those dreams, Helo, full of light.