by Jane Kindred
Kae left her satisfied and sleeping soundly, giving him the luxury of carefully executing his plans for his own death without fear of interruption. He’d contemplated falling on his sword, but the chance of missing a vital organ, however slim, deterred him. The last thing he needed was Anazakia healing him again. The sensible thing would be to fling himself into the Pyriphlegethon, and to ensure his nerve didn’t fail him, he climbed the lookout tower and relieved the man on duty in order to throw himself from a height.
But now, looking down, he was gripped with a terrible compassion for the mad monk, so much so that he almost fell down weeping against the parapet. It was as if the part of him Aeval had frozen—his conscience, his heart—could suddenly feel all that it had been denied under her spell. Every coldly calculated action he’d taken as her field marshal struck him with the full force of the anguish that had been bottled up inside him where his dormant self had watched in mute horror.
In defiance of Aeval’s will, he had left the monk outside the citadel to give him a fighting chance, but Kirill hadn’t taken it. Perhaps he was too weak to attempt to flee. Kae’s plans would have to wait. He couldn’t leave the man suffering.
He descended the tower, taking the blankets and hardtack left there by the sentry, and relieved the man at the sally port. When the soldier had gone, Kae unlocked the gate and slipped out.
Walking softly along the snowy embankment, he rounded the ancient stone bastions toward where Kirill huddled. It was the quietest moment he’d ever experienced. No sound carried from inside the walls of the citadel—no jangling of tack or whicker of horses from the stables, no muted conversations from the soldiers inside, not even the hushed sounds of servants going about their jobs. He stopped for a moment and stared at the profusion of stars soaring over the black canopy of Empyrean sky above the eerie glow of the Pyriphlegethon, wishing his head could be as empty as this silence. If he could just forget again, forget everything.
The monk startled at his presence and leapt up in fear. It took Kae some time to convince the man he meant him no harm. As a gesture of goodwill, he took out his knife to loose the ropes that bound Kirill’s hands, but the monk was clearly convinced he’d come to slit his throat, no matter what Kae said to the contrary. When he’d cut loose the ropes without burying the knife in him, Kirill relaxed a bit, rubbing his numb wrists while Kae unbuckled the strap that stopped his mouth. When Kae handed him the blankets and food, the monk stared back at him out of a pair of unusually blue-green eyes.
“You are madman,” he said in his broken angelic.
“I take that as a compliment, coming from you.”
Kirill didn’t seem to follow this. He held up the blankets. “You wish me to die or you wish me to camp?”
“I do not wish you to die,” Kae assured him. “I’ve come out here, in fact, to jump into the flames myself.”
The monk’s eyes grew wide and outraged. “You must not! Is mortal sin!”
Kae gave him a cheerless attempt at a smile. “What hell do you imagine I’d go to that could be worse than this one?”
The monk frowned as he considered this rhetorical question. Kae looked away from Kirill’s troubled eyes and stared into the river, mesmerized by the ever-changing shapes that moved within it. As he watched, dark silhouettes began to resolve on its perimeter, not part of the river’s edge. He strained his lone eye in the darkness. There were men on the bridge.
Kae drew his sword and waited while the figures advanced. As they approached the near bank, they slowed, and he heard the sound of metal being drawn. The sharpening figures revealed a small party of Virtues traveling on foot.
He called out softly, “Are you loyal soldiers to the queen?”
“Who asks?” countered a Virtue when they came close.
One of the others murmured beside him. “It’s the queen’s field marshal.” As the man raised his sword, Kae put his away, and the Virtues stared at him, perplexed.
“What’s your name?” he asked the first.
“Vaol.” The Virtue lifted his chin with an air of defiance.
“If you were loyal to the queen, Vaol, you would have saluted me and addressed me with the respect due the supreme commander of the Armies of Heaven.”
The Virtues exchanged glances and Vaol nodded slightly to one who was trying to conceal a dagger in his hand.
“Fortunately for you, I’ve come outside this fine evening to put an end to my career.” He opened his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, baring his chest over his heart. “Come on then, I haven’t got all night.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“If you consider my having disemboweled your Sar Haniel and beheaded more than twenty of your compatriots before whipping the rest to be a joke, then I suppose you may laugh if you like.” He continued to stand with his shirt held open, and the Virtue holding the dagger lunged forward in outrage to plunge it into his breast.
Kae waited for the blade to sink into him, but as the Virtue made his move, the monk darted forward and threw himself in front of the knife. Before Kae could stop him, the blade struck Kirill’s shoulder and the monk fell bleeding to the snow, while the stunned Virtue stood over him.
“You mad fool!” Kae knelt down, tearing a strip from the bottom of his shirt. “What in the name of Heaven were you thinking?”
“You shall not kill,” the monk admonished as Kae bandaged the shoulder. “Is God’s commandment.”
“And you shall not die,” Kae retorted. “That’s my command. No one else will die because of me, do you hear?” He glanced up at the Virtue still holding the bloody knife. “Have the five of you walked from Aravoth for a midnight constitutional or have you brought an army?”
The Virtue looked as if he’d been startled awake, and he bent to clean his knife in the snow while Vaol answered. “We are four hundred men.”
“The Queen has nearly six hundred.” Kae stood. “But you have darkness and surprise on your side, and an unguarded postern.” He looked at the younger Virtue settling his knife in its sheath. “You must be more decisive if you intend to succeed in battle. Follow-through is essential. Who told you to put that knife away?”
Vaol regarded him steadily. “Suria’s action was rash. But you will pay for your crimes against Aravoth. I’ll make sure of it.” He paused. “Did you say an unguarded postern?”
“The fool has left his post. As has the fool meant to man the lookout. Send one of your men back to camp and tell your troops to be ready to advance. I’d leave the horses on the other side of the river and send your men through the postern in pairs. And take this man with you.” He nodded toward Kirill and turned to head back.
“I will not leave without angel child,” the monk insisted as he got to his feet.
Kae paused. “I’m sorry to tell you, Brother Kirill, but the child is no longer here. The Cherubim have come and taken her somewhere else.”
Kirill’s eyes smoldered. “And Sister Lyubov? They take her, too?”
“No. They left your friend behind. But I’ll send her to you shortly.”
Vaol called after him. “Where are you going?”
“To get the rest of your comrades. And to show you where the postern is, unless you’d rather find it yourself in the dark.”
…
Love woke to the sound of tumblers turning in the iron lock. It was a sound she was attuned to now. Her sleep was never deep. She sat up with a racing heart, grasping Anazakia’s hand on the floor beside her. Anazakia had insisted on giving that pregnant slut Lively the bed. Love couldn’t fathom how anyone could be so gracious in the face of what Lively had done. It came of being raised a grand duchess, she supposed.
Anazakia stirred beside her, but Vashti and Margarita were already awake. They positioned themselves flat against either side of the door before it creaked open in the dark. Vashti pounced and hooked her arm around the neck of the intruder, slamming him back against the wall with her elbow at his throat. It was the field marshal in his creepy mask,
and he relaxed his head against the stone without expression, swinging a ring of keys on the end of his finger.
Anazakia stared at him with the same look she had in her eyes every time she saw him, a pained expression as if she’d been gutted, with a pinch of fear, as though she were staring at a walking corpse. She wouldn’t speak to Love of who he was to her, but she clearly knew him.
“What do you want?” Vashti punctuated the words with a jab of her elbow.
He answered in his perpetually hoarse voice. “I want you to get out. Before the fighting starts.”
Anazakia hugged her arms against the cold. “What fighting?”
His single eye never focused on her when he spoke. “The fighting between the Queen’s Army and the four hundred troops from Aravoth across the bridge.” He remained in his unperturbed stance while Vashti relaxed her arm against his neck and looked at Anazakia as if for orders. “Do you know where the sally port is?”
“Of course.”
“Get there as quickly and quietly as you can. I’ll take care of the sentries in the hall.”
“What about the others? I’m not leaving without them.”
The field marshal sighed. “Why does everyone insist on someone they won’t leave without?” He held up the keys. “I’m on my way to open the dungeon now.” He pushed himself away from the wall as Vashti stepped back.
“I’m not leaving without you this time, either.” Anazakia’s voice was solemn.
He paused in the doorway with his back to her. “Nazkia…”
“I think you owe me that.” There was a long silence before she spoke again in a voice that was as hard as Love had ever heard it. “You were never a coward before.”
He breathed in sharply and continued down the stairs without turning back.
…
Vasily lay awake beside Belphagor on the floor of their cell, maddened by an itch he couldn’t scratch with his hands tied together. They had all been left bound, as if there were any danger of their escape. Belphagor lay with his back to him against the wall. He hadn’t said a word to Vasily since they’d been returned to the dungeon, not a word since Vasily had lost his mind and used his element to heal that bastard Kae.
“Are you awake?” he whispered.
Belphagor didn’t reply, but after a moment, he turned his head, his dark eyes sparkling like polished onyx in the gloominess of the cell.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know, in case we die tomorrow, that I’m sorry I blamed you when…when it all happened. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t your fault. I just—I thought I was going to die, it hurt so much.” Vasily took a breath to keep from blubbering like a fool. “But I treated you horribly when you were in just as much pain as I was. I know how much you love Ola.” He brushed Belphagor’s arm with the tips of his captive fingers. “You are her father, Beli.” He looked down at his hands, blinking away the tears. If he cried, he’d get his glasses dirty and he wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
Belphagor was still quiet.
“And I don’t blame you for being angry with me for helping that sukin syn.” Vasily growled the words. “I should have put his sword through his heart for what he did to you. I should have cut out his entrails and let him bleed to death. I don’t know what got into me. Anazakia just seemed so heartbroken…” He looked up at Belphagor, who was staring at him silently with a peculiar expression, after Vasily had poured his heart out. His temper flared. “For the love of Heaven, Bel! Say something at least.”
Belphagor chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment and then looked down as if trying to hide a smile. At last, he opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he bared his teeth, and Vasily saw something shining between them.
“What the hell?” He squinted in the dark.
Belphagor pushed the shining object forward with his tongue, grinning around it. It was one of Vasily’s piercing barbells with the spiked end screwed on.
A flush of unexpected pleasure accompanied the realization that Belphagor had cared enough to retrieve it. “How did you get that?”
Belphagor moved his tongue about and pushed a second one through his teeth, and then another, and another. Five of the seven—complete with their spiked caps, as if he’d screwed them all on with his tongue—were clutched between his teeth.
Vasily laughed softly, wishing he could get his hands free to do more than brush Bel’s arm. He leaned in and brushed Belphagor’s lips with his instead, and Belphagor pressed closer to him, opening his mouth to let their tongues wrap together around the steel. Vasily was becoming pleasantly uncomfortable.
Belphagor pulled away at last and left the barbells in Vasily’s mouth. “I actually got them all. But I may have…swallowed two of them.”
When the door swung open at the top of the stairs, Vasily nearly swallowed a few himself. Torchlight bloomed into the darkness, revealing Kae’s masked face, with the two dungeon guards following close behind him.
Kae put the torch into the sconce on the wall at the foot of the stairs. “Bring out the dark one.”
So he was going to pick up where he’d left off. After everything, he was as mad as ever. Vasily sat up, intending to say something caustic, but remembered he had a mouthful of metal.
The guards unlocked their cell and hauled Nebo from the iron cot. Kae stood back while they brought the Nephil forward and hung his bound hands from the whipping peg. Vasily held his breath as Kae took out his sword instead of his flogger, but the angel leaned in and spoke in Nebo’s ear for a moment, and then brought his sword up unexpectedly and sliced it through the bonds on Nebo’s wrists with a jerk. Nebo turned too swiftly for the guards to react and grabbed them both by the neck. With perfect coordination, he slammed their heads into the bars and stunned them before whisking their swords from their scabbards.
“Interesting tactic.” Kae observed the dazed guards. “I only meant the one sword, but I suppose you’re right. We can always use more.” He dragged one of the guards to his feet while Nebo hoisted the other, and shoved them both into the cell. “Untie the others.”
“Sir.” The guard protested with a grimace as he rubbed his head. “Her Supernal Majesty will not be pleased.”
“I rather doubt she will. But she’s sleeping fairly heavily tonight and I can almost guarantee she won’t wake for hours.”
From the look on Belphagor’s face, this meant something to him, and Vasily was certain he didn’t want to know what.
The guards reluctantly followed Kae’s orders. When his hands were free, Vasily spat the jewelry into his palm and then pocketed it. Belphagor gave him a wink as they stepped out into the corridor.
“Nice move.” Dmitri nodded at Nebo as the Nephil handed him the extra sword, and Nebo flashed him a broad smile. The Nephilim were always pleased by praise from the Grigori, as if from a parent. Dmitri held his hand out to the sullen guards. “Scabbards.”
They hesitated until a look from Kae persuaded them.
Kae locked the guards in and turned to unlock the opposite cell, where the Virtues were watching the drama in amazement.
One of the guards hooked his hands around the bars while Kae released the Virtues from their manacles. “How far do you think you’re going to get before you’re caught?”
“Me?” Kae shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere. And you would do well to remember that I am still the field marshal of this army until the queen chooses to say otherwise.” He pulled the young Loquel forward to unlock him and the Virtue flinched, his eyes flickering between humiliation and hatred. Kae addressed him gruffly as he unlocked the irons. “If you want revenge, you’ll have to get in line. I’ve wronged many others far worse than you.”
…
Inside the keep, all had gone well until Lively fell faint at the bottom of the stairs.
Anazakia caught her before she dropped, whispering in concern that Love simply couldn’t fathom, “When did you last eat?”
Lively shook her head, looking disoriented.
“Love!” Anazakia gave her a stern look. “We are not leaving her.”
“Give her to me.” Vashti stepped in, scooping Lively into her arms, and Love stared after her with grudging admiration at her strength. The tall woman went ahead of them toward the far end of the great hall where Kae had left the doors unbarred and two Ophanim dead beside it. Pushing the door open with her shoulder, Vashti turned to hold it for them.
There was no time to cry out a warning at the sudden movement in the shadows. A soldier waiting just outside the door lunged forward and swung a heavy object at Vashti’s head. The crack was loud in the empty hall.
Margarita moved before anyone else reacted, and with a swift motion that made it look as if she were flying, she landed a kick to the inside of the assailant’s knee and a blow to his neck from her fist at the same instant, incapacitating him instantly.
Vashti fell to her knees, dropping Lively almost gracefully onto the floor. Blood was pouring into her eyes as she slumped back against the door. “I’m…so sorry…” She looked as if she were about to say something else, her eyes still open wide, but her body had gone slack.
Beside her, Margarita felt for her pulse and shook her head.
“What happened?” Lively reeled and caught herself against the stone.
Love moved toward her guiltily, a moment too late, as Anazakia crouched down and helped her up.
Anazakia looked to Margarita as she steadied Lively. “She’s dead?”
Margarita nodded sharply with the stoic detachment of a soldier, and Anazakia gave a sigh of weariness and regret. Love hugged her arms in the cold, staring at the empty amber eyes, feeling nothing. She took no satisfaction in the woman’s death, but after what Vashti had done to her, it simply wasn’t in her to be sorry.
