by Bonnie Lamer
At this point, I want to ask questions so badly my lips hurt. That is probably because they are currently mashed between my teeth as I struggle to keep them closed. Trickles of sound gurgle up my throat, the evidence of my unasked questions, but I stay strong and let her continue uninterrupted even though my lips will likely be permanently disfigured. The price I pay for speedy knowledge, I guess. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kallen trying hard not to snicker at my struggle to remain silent. I am now struggling not to use my magic to pull his stool out from under him.
“Black Donald told my great-grandmother she would be the protector of Cowans, for he feared that one day his Demons would rise against him. If that happened, the Cowans would pay the price. Even though he was not particularly fond of Cowans in general, he did not like the idea that he was being plotted against. He wanted to spoil their plans if they succeeded in destroying him. He would not let them win all.”
Okay, I lied. Her story does get interrupted. I really can’t help myself. Turning to Isla, I blurt out, “You said the Demons were destroyed long before the Fairies came into existence. But, her story,” I point at Alita’s mother rather rudely, “implies that they were still around just a few centuries ago.”
It is Kallen who responds to me. “Unless it was not a Demon who came to her great-grandmother.”
I whirl around to question his idiocy. Then his meaning hits me. “I do believe she may have a brainwave or two that’s still active,” Taz drawls from my ankle. I kick at him but like usual, he’s too fast for my foot to actually make contact.
Pretending my interruption didn’t occur, Alita’s mother continues once again. “He told her that only Cowans of her bloodline who bore goodness in their souls could carry this most sacred weapon. If their hearts soured, if their actions became even remotely like that of the Demons they may one day fight against, the weapon they carried within them would be destroyed. Then, there would be no one left who could fight the Demons when they came.” Hence the fact that Alita thought this was a story her mother told her to make sure she was a good little girl.
After a moment of silence, it becomes apparent that Alita’s mother has finished her story. I give it another few seconds just to make sure before I turn to Kallen and demand, “You think it was Raziel pretending to be Black Donald?”
Kallen shrugs. “If not Raziel, another Angel, yes.”
“But why Alita’s family?” Kegan asks, still not convinced any of this is real.
“Hook him up to an EEG machine and there’d be more than a few blips to account for,” Taz snickers. Unfortunately, he’s too far away now to even try to kick him.
Kallen attempts to cue his cousin in. “Because Raziel knew the path her family line would take.”
As each word sinks in, Kegan’s face becomes harder and redder until he looks like a petrified apple. Not a scared apple, a hard as stone one. It’s not a good look for him. “The bastard,” he growls.
“How, exactly, did your great-grandmother receive the gift of this blood?” Isla asks delicately. Oh, good question. It’s not like sleeping with an Angel would infuse Demon blood into her. Eew. Please tell me that Raziel did not sleep with Alita’s great-grandmother.
“With magic,” Alita’s mother says simply.
A sigh of relief is expelled from my lips, which earns me some strange looks from around the room. “What, like I’m the only one relieved Raziel didn’t sleep with her? Geesh.” Kallen quirks an eyebrow at me as if to ask why it matters to me who Raziel slept with in the past. I quirk an eyebrow back saying he’s my friend and it would gross me out if he slept with another friend’s great-great-grandmother so stop being such a jealous bore. His eyes narrow, saying he’s not being a jealous bore. I roll my eyes at this blatant denial of his so obvious actions. He looks away, refusing to discuss this anymore. What a great thing about marriage. You get to know each other so well you can have entire conversations with your eyes and eyebrows.
“So, Raziel, or some other Angel, magically infused Demon blood with this Cowan woman’s? This is far-fetched at best,” Kegan insists.
“The proof is right here,” Garren says, pointing at the prophecy. He is quite proud of himself for being one of the first to figure out what was going on.
Kegan’s eyes follow his finger and he reads the prophecy for the first time. As he ingests the words, he begins to look less like a petrified red apple and more like a rotting green one. I’m fairly certain that’s bile creeping up his throat which he needs to keep swallowing back down. Yuck. “My son is meant to be a weapon to fight Demons.” This is not a question. He seems to have accepted this as fact now.
I shake my head adamantly. “Not happening. There is no way I am using Keelan as any type of weapon. It’s ridiculous to even say it out loud,” I declare. Yet, somewhere in the darkest recesses of my soul, I hear my fate laughing at me. Whenever I say never, the universe conspires to make me rue the word.
25 Chapter
“If it is his destiny, it cannot be denied any more than yours could.” The look of utter defeat on Kegan’s face as he says these words is hard to take in. I already feel morally desolate and I’ve blatantly refused to use his son as a weapon.
Placing my hands on my hips, I demand, “When have I ever simply given in to destiny without putting my own twist on it?”
This startles Kegan out of his too easily won self-defeat. “What?”
“She is correct, cousin. Xandra never does exactly as destiny bids her to do,” Kallen says with a prideful grin in my direction. I do believe this is one of the things he loves about me. Good thing, because I’m not changing and he’s stuck with me for eternity.
“Then what is it you plan to do?” Dagda asks impatiently with a pointed glance toward the back door. He would like his wife back sooner as opposed to later. I’m surprised he’s been patient this long. I would have expected him to be ranting and raving and already insisting I hurry the hell up with whatever plan I have brewing. Not that I have a plan. And upon closer inspection, he is about two seconds away from telling me to hurry the hell up.
“I got nothing,” I admit more to myself than anyone else in the room.
“I wonder if your grandfather had not run your mother off if I would have been able to do anything about your poor grammar?” an amused voice asks.
I whirl around to find my maternal grandmother standing there with open arms waiting for her hug. I don’t hesitate like I would have when she was human. Technically, a Fallen Angel but no one knew that until the very end. Certainly not my grandfather. “Grandma!” I say as she hugs me tight. “Did you come to tell me what to do?”
Even snorts are pretty when they come from an Angel. “You know better than that, dear.”
Disappointed like I usually am when I ask Angels for help, I back out of her embrace and mutter, “Then this is an odd time for a visit.”
The Angel of Love reaches out and tucks a stray strand of my black hair behind my ear. “It is always a good time to visit my favorite granddaughter.”
“I’m your only granddaughter,” I point out. After a heartbeat, I add, “Aren’t I?”
Grandma’s laugh is a tinkle of pleasant sounds. “Of course you are, dear.” Glancing toward the door, her eyes harden. They only soften slightly when she turns back to me. “You need to send those beasts back to the hell from which they sprang.”
“Yeah, figured that one out on my own,” I snark. I have come to love my grandmother, but she is still an Angel. And Angels can be really annoying.
“How did the Angels destroy them?” I ask. That’s history, right? Surely she can explain history to me.
“We did not. We simply dwindled their numbers while unfortunately doing the same of our own.”
That’s encouraging. “Why have they taken so long to reappear?”
Grandma sighs. “Our war weakened them. We were never able to take out The Seven, but their dwindled numbers weakened them to the point they had to lay low. It is only the be
acon which brings them to light now.”
You can definitely tell Grandma recently spent time in the Cowan realm. What other Angel uses terms like ‘take them out’ and ‘lay low’? “If they are so weak, why won’t the Angels come and fight them now that they are out of hiding?”
Grandma’s smile is tightlipped. I am definitely not going to like what she has to say. “We cannot.”
“Why not?”
“There are many reasons.”
Like I would ever accept an answer like that. Does she not know me at all? “Name a few,” I push.
I get an exasperated sigh for my trouble. “Xandra, you know I cannot.”
Beyond irritated, I throw my hands up in the air. “Do you guys sit in Angel time and take bets on who can frustrate me the most?”
This time, Grandma’s sigh is sad. “Xandra, if I could take your burdens from you, I would gladly do so.”
I hang my head which is now stuffed with guilt, and my neck is having a hard time with the strain. “I know you would. I’m just frustrated. What can you tell me?”
“Nothing, really. I simply wanted to encourage you. Just because the Angels and Demons reached a stalemate does not mean The Seven are indestructible. There are so many ingredients that go into winning a war, how is an innocent supposed to know such things or even have a specific agenda? Why, not that long ago, you would not have been able to discern between good and evil, much less put up detectable defenses against your enemies, even unconscious ones. Now, you are so confused about your Angel heritage and your occasional wings with a few tarnished feathers and your Witch and Fairy and Cowan blood all mixed together, how in the world would you know the recipe? You have so many other things to worry about right now, such as saving your true blooded Angel friends and their wings, I really just wanted to check in and see what you were making of things. Your magic is so strong, but only the most gullible believe themselves infallible to all charms and spells.” Without even pausing for a breath, my grandmother pulls me into her arms and finishes with, “Take care my precious dear, for I expect you to live long enough to give me great-grandchildren who can stand up proud and strong as they follow the light of their own grandchildren when the time comes. Remember, I am always here for you in your time of need, just as all the Angels are, even if we need to be the silent supporters in the background and let you do the actual fighting.”
I do not even have a chance to part my lips to explain to her that this was by far the worst pep talk I have ever received before Grandma pops me back out of Angel time. Yup, she’s my grandmother, but damn is she annoying sometimes.
26 Chapter
“I got nothing?” Dagda roars as I reenter the Fairy realm of existence.
Since I have been conversing with my grandmother for the last several minutes, it takes me a moment to backtrack and figure out what he’s talking about. Oh, yeah. The last thing he heard me say was, ‘I got nothing.’ Surprisingly, he doesn’t comment on my atrocious grammar like Grandma did. Things are pretty grim when my biological father forgets to be the grammar police.
I open my mouth to tell them I’ve been talking to Grandma, when I snap my lips closed. Why should I bother? It’s not like she said anything to help us and it will just frustrate them as much as it does me that the Angels refuse to get involved. Even when the Demons are technically their oldest enemy. I notice Kallen giving me an odd look, though. He already suspects my conversation with an Angel even if he doesn’t know which one. He’s gotten really good at detecting when I’m pulled into Angel time. He doesn’t say anything, though. He figures if I learned anything useful, I’d share with the group.
A painful tug on my magic has me yelping. Several others in the room also grimace in pain. This is not good. “Stay here!” I shout to no one in particular as I rush to the door. Several Fairies do follow me, but only the ones whose magic is also being affected.
Outside, I skid to a halt. I thought seeing one Demon was disturbing. Seeing six of them at once is enough to sear my retinas with ugly. They are horrible, offensive looking creatures. It turns out the first one I saw was a real looker compared to the rest. These guys are just nasty. They have the same charred skin the first one had, but theirs is torn and tattered, exposing pieces of the inner Demon. This consists of muscles which seem to be riddled with gangrene and maggots. Blood and pus ooze from various cuts and orifices. One has an eye which is resting more on its cheek bone than in its actual eye socket. It looks like they have just come from battle, but their wounds are far from fresh looking. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that when Demons are injured, they don’t heal. They keep living, but they don’t heal. Meaning, these wounds are from eons of battles fought. Wow. And they want to keep living? I’m sorry, if my insides were mostly comprised of gangrene and maggots, I might have to question what there really is to live for at that point.
The disgusting Demons are not paying attention to us. They are paying attention to their friend in the magical cage. Chanting in the same ancient language the Demon who possessed Tana had, they are trying to free him. From the painful ripping and tearing of our magic, I would say they are fairly close to succeeding.
“Are they chanting the de-possession spell?” Dagda asks. I have never seen him so consumed with panic.
Because of this, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I must. “I don’t think so, no.” He gets my meaning. They are planning to take Tana with them. I throw even more magic at the cage, as do the others, but the Demons keep right on chanting.
I would try to fight the Demons, take them on one by one or as a group, but I don’t dare deflect any of my magic. Right now, the important thing is to protect Tana. A small pinch on my back tells me my Angel wings have appeared and I shout, “Close your eyes!” Concentrating hard, I throw everything I have into it. A blinding white light emanates from me and my wings and blasts forward. Several of the Demons roar in pain. Suddenly, they take notice of us. Their chanting stops and they focus all of their attention and magic on us.
“Keep your magic on the cage!” Kallen shouts. I don’t believe he’s talking to me. I felt Isla and Dagda start to pull back in order to fight the Demons, too. No, that can’t happen. They need to protect Tana while I focus on the Demons.
Unfortunately, six Demons is a lot to handle. Our magic meets and the air bursts into flames around the point of impact. Oxygen is quite combustible, after all. The explosion rocks the house. Around me, a couple of Fairies, the ones closest to the blast, and several Demons drop to the ground. I barely remain standing.
It’s enough. The loss of a couple of key players whose magic was holding the cage together is enough to let it come crumbling down under the force of the Demons still standing. It takes but a second for them to grab Tana and disappear.
All six of them are gone. Several were wounded, but they apparently had enough strength still to teleport. Damn it! At least they left with a few more wounds which will never, ever heal.
Glancing around me, I am suddenly much less satisfied by this knowledge. Garren is burned almost beyond recognition. Isla, who was close to him, suffers from several serious burns but this fact is lost on her as she gathers her husband into her arms. She is crying. Isla is crying. Not gentle weeping, but gut wrenching sobs of grief. No, he can’t be dead.
I scramble toward them. As I pass Dagda, I see the utter destruction of his soul in his eyes. The guilt of not being able to save his wife. The bitterness toward me that I couldn’t, either. I know in my heart that the bitterness will pass, he won’t hold me responsible for what the Demons did. But, in this moment, his heart can do nothing else. After all, I am supposed to be the one who saves everyone from evil, right?
“Xandra!” Isla croaks through her sobs. “Help him. Please!”
Only when I hear her voice do I realize I stopped. It was not seeing Dagda’s expression, or Isla’s grief, or even Garren looking more Demon than Fairy because of his burns that shocked me into stopping. No. It is the fact th
at I have a perfectly white Angel feather in my pocket. And it’s not mine.
27 Chapter
My feet are moving once more and in a second, I am dropping to my knees next to Isla and Garren. I have my hands on the latter’s still sizzling skin in a heartbeat and I am pulling magic again. I try to be as gentle as I can, but time is of the essence. I can feel Garren’s life force trying to slip away.
So can Isla. “You stay with me, damn it!” she growls into her husband’s ear. “You were stubborn enough to wait for me all those years, you better be stubborn enough to stay with me now. I will never, ever forgive you if you do not. Not this time,” she growls. In a quieter, for his ears only, voice, she adds, “I love you so much. I cannot lose you.”
I don’t know how long it takes to heal him. Slowly, exposed tissue under Garren’s burned skin begins to mend. Not long after, the skin itself knits itself into whole tissue once again. After what seems like forever, a small cough emanates from his chest. A second later, a louder cough and a gasp as he draws a large breath into his bruised lungs. Garren’s eyes fly open and lock onto Isla’s face. The relief at seeing her alive and well is so dramatic, I fear he would slip into shock again if I wasn’t still in the process of healing him. Isla hugs him tighter. Since she is touching him, my healing magic has been slipping into her, as well. Her own wounds are fading quickly.
When Garren is once again whole, I turn to Dagda. He was also injured in the blast. His right leg is bleeding and possibly broken. It takes me a minute to figure out how that happened. Then, I notice that chunks of the house were ripped off with the blast. He was hit by debris. I move toward him, prepared to heal him next.
