by Ryan Attard
There were few words in the English vernacular that made me want to put up both middle fingers and yell out the lyrics to Anarchy in the UK.
‘Permission’ is on top of that list.
Hang on, I argued with myself. She’s not being a bitch now. She’s trying to tell you something, knucklehead.
“The angel,” I finally figured out. “The Virtue that counters Greede’s Sin.”
She nodded. “Exactly. We will stay out of Heaven’s business.”
“Well, fuck me,” I muttered.
I’d faced this dilemma four years ago when Lust first showed up. Back then, Jehudiel made me an offer: work for Heaven or else.
As you can probably guess by now, I chose the latter option.
Then I punched the archangel in the face. We’ve been pals ever since.
Now here I was, forced to play nice with them again, forced to pick a side other than the home team.
Akasha turned to leave. “Find the angel, Erik. And hurry.”
She took a few steps.
“Hey, Akasha,” I asked, suddenly struck by a strange curiosity. “This First you kept mentioning, who is he?”
She grinned and shrugged. “No idea. Never met them.”
I pursed my lips. “There’s that word again. You keep referring to him as ‘them’. Never an actual gender.”
“That’s because it might be either,” Akasha said, before giving me a dark look. “Or it might be none.”
“None?”
“That thing, Erik…” she began. “That thing isn’t human.”
Akasha looked around as if whatever creature she was talking about was listening.
“But you’re right,” she continued, her voice low. “The First does not have a gender. The last time I checked, Balaur dragons didn’t concern themselves with such trivialities.”
Nothing makes your brain stop in its tracks much like the word ‘dragon’.
“A what?”
Akasha put her finger on her lips. “I’ve said too much. But I’m dropping hints only I am privy to because I sense the end coming, Erik. I sense that our demise is at hand and you are the one chosen by the universe.” She walked away towards the SUV. “Find the angel, Erik. Hurry!”
I watched the SUV depart, leaving me trapped inside a barrier I couldn’t move in, with more questions than I had answers to.
Focus on the job, I told myself.
I felt the barrier weaken — Akasha must have weakened it a little, just enough to give me some wiggle room.
That was all I needed.
I reached down into the dark recesses of my soul and felt the familiar dark power.
Time to get to work.
Chapter 16
So let’s recap:
Ishtar was manipulated into starting an orgy she didn’t want to.
I was supposed to find and protect this woman until I got some answers.
Alan Greede hired a demonic assassin to tie off any loose ends, aka the succubus he manipulated.
The Grigori swoop in, save our assess, then proceed to kick said assess and take the semi-innocent succubus to god-knows-where.
Meanwhile, I’m trapped in an entropic barrier created by the woman I thought I was in a relationship with.
And here ends the lesson.
I took a step forwards. The energy within the barrier reacted, transforming my physical movement into something else. Whatever horrid effect it was about to produce fell flat — I guess Akasha had lowered the counter effect of the barrier.
Slowly, I reached forwards and bumped the tip of my short sword against the barrier. The ripple sent a loud whoosh and sent me on my ass.
But I grinned nonetheless.
The reaction had been physical, not magical. Entropy was pure chaos magic. That one touch could have metamorphosed into anything: a fire blast, summoning some denizen of hell, transmuting my hair into a flock of swans.
Literally anything.
The fact that all it did was rebound meant that its power had weakened sufficiently for me to bust out of there… Provided I had the right amount of juice, that is.
I closed my eyes.
It had been a whole year since I could feel that power swimming just below the surface, like a shark circling its prey, waiting for a window to swoop in. Amaymon, and pretty much everyone else, had warned me about using that power too much.
Cursed from birth, it was something both my sister and I had — in my case it manifested itself in an inability to use magic unless I channeled it through something. Instead, I got this amazing healing powers as a result of my magic constantly looping within me.
That, and the shadows.
Made out of pure Life Magic, we had no idea if Gil had the same powers, or how and why this was happening to me. But the one thing I do know is that this power is addictive. It’s not hard to see why; I never faced an enemy I couldn’t beat.
All it took was a chunk of my humanity, a slice of what made me Erik Ashendale, the human being.
Guess that explained my hesitation.
Sweat dripped down my body. This wasn’t just about me anymore — I couldn’t let anyone else down.
I couldn’t fail. Not again. No one should be put in danger because of my fear or my incompetence.
It didn’t take long for the connection to happen.
Heat blasted into my face. Sand flew rough on my skin. I opened my eyes to the familiar red sky, the red sand, and the mastodonic obsidian tree with roots the size of telephone poles digging deep into the sand. The trunk, wider than a city block, rose to the sky, penetrating the atmosphere and growing beyond the world.
Power soaked my body. I knew that if I looked down I would be wearing the same obsidian skin as the tree. Snakes of red and yellow would appear between the cracks, like magma flowing in between rocks.
Need a bump?
Dark Erik’s — because what else are you going to call your evil alter ego? — voice echoed in my head.
“You’re getting more and more cocky,” I remarked.
It’s been a while since you visited me, but I knew you’d be back. I am you, Erik Ashendale.
I ignored the voice and walked towards the tree’s roots, where I knew I would find petals and leaves soaked with tree sap. As disgusting as it sounds, that sap was what I was after. A little dose of power, just enough to get me going.
I reached out. Black mangrove vines ensnared my arm.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
Dark Erik emerged from the trunk, rippling out of it. His featureless black stone skin bore no expression but I could just picture him leering with glee.
I grow impatient, human. I must follow my original intent.
Before all of this I would have dismissed the chatter as the ramblings of a crazy person — me, I suppose.
This guy and I were the same, like some sort of spilt personality.
Now…
“Human?” I repeated. Dark Erik froze. “You never called me human before. You always said you and I are the same. Could it be you were lying?”
I am capable of growth. I learn as you learn. My intent has been made clear. As has yours.
“Again with the cryptic,” I said, struggling to free my hand. “You might wanna just spit it out, buddy, or fuck off.”
The vines tightened, climbing further up my body.
Screw this!
This mental realm, which I learnt was called Ashura, was my realm. My own mind, goddammit. And this was my power. My curse, my bloodline.
Some entity will not control me.
The vines stopped their ascent. Dark Erik and I were locked in a battle of wills.
Your purpose is far greater than you think, Erik Ashendale.
“But you won’t just tell me, right?”
Your purpose is to free me, to give me life. We shall become one, two halves becoming whole.
“At least buy me a drink first.”
You have power, but you can be so much more.
Whatever rebuttal I had — something clever and witty, I’m sure — was drowned in the sudden burst of cold and death that emanated from the very depths of the realm.
Dark Erik and I froze.
The scythe glinted maliciously as it stopped a hair’s width away from Dark Erik’s throat.
Samael’s robe fluttered in a wind that was not there, and his black raven wings flared vertically behind him like wind sails.
His appearance stunned my brain for half a second before questions began flooding my head.
How did he appear here? Why was the angel of freakin’ death here? They say death follows you wherever you go but this was taking it too far. Ashura was my own mental realm, my mind — no one should have access to my mind.
Apparently, no one informed the seven foot, black hooded angel with the big-ass scythe.
Release the human, Firstborn.
There was no questioning the power in Samael’s voice. He says, you do. Every syllable was fucking fact, like stating that concrete was grey or paper was white.
Dark Erik swivelled his head and retreated back into the tree.
“Thanks,” I said, free from the vines. I looked for some of the sap and found none. “Shit.”
If it is power you seek, you are covered in it, the angel pointed out.
He was right. I felt a permanence to the power surrounding me, along with a certainty I would be able to carry it back to the real world.
Samael glared at me and, for the first time, I could see both of its glowing red eyes.
Finish your task, human.
He flared his wings. Power surged. Ashura spun and I was forced out of it.
“Wait!” I cried, still holding onto the mental realm. “What is inside me? You called him Firstborn — what does that mean?”
Samael wasn’t in any mood to chat.
Finish your task, he repeated.
Back in the real world, I was assaulted by a mass of colors, sounds and sensations. Everything was enhanced a hundredfold due to the power surging through me.
I looked down. My skin was covered in tangible shadows, and already it was pigmenting the flesh, coating it in obsidian. With just a push I knew I could trigger a metamorphosis — claws, bones jutting out, bulging muscles. I knew my magic would surge to the level where I could wipe the floor with a Sin.
Shadows burst out, attacking the entropic barrier. I could feel the opposing magic reacting, twisting, changing. All was futile before me. I was powerful, like a god. Hell, I had beaten one before.
This little barrier was akin to small leaf blocking my path, so easy to step over and crush.
The entropic barrier reached its breaking point and shattered. The explosion surged outwards. The building behind me shook and cracked. The ground shattered, leaving me in the middle of a small crater in the middle of the road.
I panted hard. Half of my brain was relishing in the power, the other half struggling to regain some form of control.
It took Samael’s encore appearance to sober me up. I saw the angel walk from behind a corner, scythe covered on blood.
I await, human.
A single flap of its wings and an instant later, the angel of death disappeared.
I tried making sense of what happened. Samael only showed up when someone needed offing, and the dude did not make house calls.
If he showed up here it was because I had brought him. And if the angel of death showed up, someone had to die.
My mind did the math.
“FUCK!”
Using all of my enhanced strength, I bolted towards the corner. Lying on the ground was a homeless guy, maybe around fifty. He smelled like a sewer, and if the grime on his face, hair and beard was any indication, the guy had been living on the streets for a few years at least.
Trust me on that; I was homeless for a while when I was a kid and ran away from home.
The man’s body was neatly cleaved from chin to hip. Blood oozed out like a pool, warm and viscous. I could see his entrails. Something pulsated beneath his ribs, and I forced myself not to stare at his literal still-beating heart.
“Come on,” I said. My hands were shaking as I cradled his head.
This was my fault. I had killed this guy. His life was the price for bringing Samael here, who only showed because I needed to get more power.
Power I couldn’t control.
Power I still wore now.
Hang on.
I heard a ragged breath coming from him. His heart was still beating. If I was going to try something, it had to be in the next two seconds.
“This killed you,” I said. “I killed you.”
I focused all of my shadow power into my right fist and lay my hand over his chest. Shadows dripped over his gaping wound.
Magic flowed from me to him, filling him with Life Magic. The same magic that healed me. The same power that indirectly killed him.
If there’s something I learnt early on from a mentor who sacrificed his life for mine, it was that power should not be used for selfish purposes. Granted, there will be the occasional shortcut taken, but big-picture-wise, anyone with the power to change a life, or save one, should take action.
That, he used to say, was the true meaning of being human.
All of my shadows dissipated, siphoned into the homeless guy. I had no idea what sort of repercussions would occur. Maybe the guy would develop magic as a result, or maybe he would go on to live a thousand years, never knowing why.
Or maybe I would fail yet again, and will have to call an ambulance for a guy I knew had no chance.
A hand reached out to grasp mine. I blinked away tears I hadn’t realized I was crying, and squeezed his fingers.
“Hold on,” I said. “I’ll call an ambulance. You’re gonna be just fine.”
The homeless man smiled. His eyes were deep blue, the color of sapphires. They seemed to twinkle.
“I know,” he said.
With strength he shouldn’t have, he slowly pushed me away, giving himself enough space to stand up.
Before my very confused eyes, his wounds sealed up. Blood no longer flowed red but changed into a golden hue.
Ichor.
The man dusted himself off and rolled his shoulders.
“Well, that certainly was something,” he said, in a voice that was so kind and gentle it threatened to break me down in tears. “A display of human kindness. You were willing to give your power, your life’s essence, in order to save mine.” He cocked his head. “And even if you did so out of guilt, it does not lessen the impact of your actions.”
I stood up. There was no bloodlust or danger coming off of him, but in my experience, something supernatural generally ended with me getting in even more trouble.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “Or rather, what are you?”
The homeless man beamed. “Surely you have figured it out for yourself by now.”
Wings flared behind him, gold and copper in color.
“An angel,” I said.
He nodded and extended a hand.
“My name is Ezekiel,” he said. Magic rained down from him, like a gentle drizzle in springtime. “Archangel of Heaven, and Virtue of Charity. Pleased to meet you, Erik Ashendale. I was rather looking forward to this.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. Ezekiel remained with his hand extended, his kind smile still on his face. Two seconds later, I found myself shaking his hand and mirroring his smile.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I said.
Chapter 17
It says a lot about a person’s life when they can walk back in their office, introduce a complete stranger as an angel, and have everyone in the room go “Oh, cool.”
Which was pretty much the reaction Abi and Amaymon had when I welcomed Ezekiel into my house. Abi smiled and offered him some coffee before going on one of her adorable dorky rants about not knowing what to offer a literal heavenly body.
Amaymon just kept licking his balls.
Five minutes later, I was watc
hing Ezekiel sipping coffee from a Star Wars mug and walking around my office. He stopped at intervals, taking in all the trinkets and trophies I’d collected over the years. Most were just obsolete remnants of spells, along with the occasional monster claw that failed to dismember me.
You know, sentimental stuff.
“Interesting,” he said. His smile never left his face.
“What is?” I asked, trying to see if he spotted anything in particular.
Ezekiel closed his eyes and inhaled. “There is an interesting mixture of magic here,” he said.
“Are you sure that’s not the cat smell?” I joked.
“Yeah, like I’m the one who falls asleep without showering,” Amaymon shot back.
I had nothing. It happens to the best of us: I come home from a late night, tell myself I’ll rest my eyes for just a minute, and the next thing I know eight hours have passed and I’m being shook awake.
“No,” the angel said. “You keep interesting company, Erik. I sense demons and angels alike, as well as other creatures. I remember Jehudiel’s report — he always speaks fondly of you.”
I grimaced. The last time I saw Jehudiel it was right before I went after a rogue angel. Turns out not all of these holier-than-thou feather-heads can handle being on Earth. Apparently, we are a little too tempting for them.
Raphael went on a rampage and began killing everyone who’d ever sinned — anything from murder, to adultery, to stealing a piece of chewing gum, or having impure thoughts.
In short, pretty much everyone alive.
I had to stop him, which meant telling Jehudiel to fuck straight off and let humans dish out justice in our home plane. After that it was silence from the angelic radar — until Ezekiel showed up.
“How is he anyway?” I asked, running a hand through my hair. There was a spot on my desk I kept staring at.
Ezekiel chuckled. “I believe you humans have a term for it. Pissed off, I think it is.”
“Ah well, he had it coming,” I snapped.
Ezekiel nodded. “So he says. That would explain his subsequent actions. No human witnessed an angelic execution, much less stared directly at Samael-”
