by JK Ensley
“Wow. It’s like… metal or glass. It’s so beautiful.” Vareilious’s deep voice was filled with the wonder and awe of a child’s. “Can I touch it?”
She smiled at him. “Of course you can, my friend. As much and as often as you wish.”
“Your enchanting voice pulls me,” Varick whispered. “It draws me as a moth to a flame.”
“Do you think I am hideous?”
Varick kissed her hand. “On the contrary, my love—you are unimaginably enticing.”
“Then, why do you mourn?”
“He thought you were a demon,” Vareilious answered.
“A demon?”
Jenevier snickered. It sounded like water trickling over cold rocks in a mountain stream. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. When her astonished gaze met Vareilious’s, they burst into uncontrollable laughter. She gasped for air. Just as she would try to stop, she would hear her own curious giggle and lose herself to it again.
“Your sparkling ruby eyes match your gorgeous hair.”
Varick’s whisper drew her attention back to her reflection. She hadn’t even noticed the vibrant red gemstones now lighting up her new angelic face.
“Wow…” she whispered in amazement.
“Wow is right,” Varick answered, sliding his arm around her waist. “I am too common to even find the words to describe how ethereal and magical you are. I feel nothing but shame and inadequacy in your imposing presence.”
She smiled when she heard him echo back the same words she had once proclaimed to him, so long ago.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His eyes sparkled. “And I love you more, my angelic warrior.”
“Come hither, child.”
When Valadrog spoke, Jenevier turned to go to him but found herself already standing face to stomach with the giant. He stumbled back in amazement.
She gasped. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to—”
“No need for apologies. It will take some time to acclimate yourself with your angelic mask.” He smiled and turned back to address the silenced crowd. “You have never seen a creature such as this for our people have never been blessed with one wielding her rare talent. Each of you here today performs a needed task. You operate as judges, mediators, vindicators, witnesses, judicators. Vinika here is a witness and investigator. Vareilious serves as both vindicator and exactor of punishment. My own son, Varick, is a highly esteemed judge. We all work together in the eyes of God. Vinika collects the evidence. Varick processes it and passes judgment. And then Vareilious enacts the prescribed punishment. Tell me, Warriors of God. What have we been missing in our divine arsenal?”
All were silent.
“The executioner,” Vareen answered.
Jenevier’s mouth fell open. “Wait… Me? But that’s… that’s just not possible. How can someone as little as I am—”
“No!”
Varick’s enraged protest silenced her words, along with the gasping onlookers.
“Son, we have no part or say in this,” Valadrog warned.
Vareen reached for him. “Varick, do not fear—”
“Why her?” He looked toward his mother. “Tell me. Why is it she has to be the one to deal the death blow? This isn’t right. Such a thing will destroy her.”
“It is not for us to question, my son,” Vareen said. “Fear not. God would never give her a duty she could not perform or handle.”
He half snorted. “Is that what you would have me believe? That the woman I love is meant to spend the rest of eternity with her wings dipped in blood?”
His cries were so powerful, so heart wrenching. Jenevier bit back her tears, wanting nothing more than to hold and comfort him for a change.
Wait… Did he just say… wings?
She hadn’t seen any wings. She glanced back, trying to look behind her. Nothing. She hadn’t flown to the wall and back. She had simply thought it, and… there she was.
Jenevier tapped her chin, drumming her fingertips there as she twisted her mouth to the side.
Hmm… I wonder…
She flexed her new shoulders then, just to see if she felt anything. Loud gasps echoed once again through the consecrated hall.
She gaped at the mighty spans stretching forth from either side of her. The Vanir had elegant wings of billowy soft aurora borealis feathers. Hers… were not. Jenevier’s wings were hard and sterile. The thousands of intricate feathers were not soft and light, no. They were sparkly and clear—razor sharp glass.
Valadrog gasped. “Diamond.”
She looked closer. The glittery feathers of her radiant wings were made up of the hardest substance known to man. Her hands began to tingle. She watched in horror as long claws, perfectly matching her fatal new pinions, extended eerily from her fingertips. If she had entertained any doubt as to the true purpose of her new body, it was now crushed. She was wonderfully and flawlessly made to be nothing short of absolutely lethal.
“Wow…” Vareilious’s voice echoed across the silenced cathedral. “I never thought I would live to see the day a woman was actually cursed by diamonds.”
Vareen spoke to the crowd, delivering her celestial message from within a prophetic dream state…
“And from this day forth, she shall be known as Vashti… for she is beautiful.”
Chapter 53
Vittorio
(vit-TOR-ee-oh)
“Princess, I hear you received summons with your first set of marching orders today.”
Vareilious ran up to Jenevier just as she was exiting her new home. Everything in it was way too big for her—as was the rest of the heavenly city. Be that as it may, she was adjusting well, despite her diminutive size.
“Yes, good Vareilious. Only just.”
“Do you yet know who has been summonsed as your partner?”
“No. I didn’t know I would get a partner.” Her eyes lit up. “Do we get to choose our own?”
“No, little lady, you don’t. The seer holds sole responsibility for determining whose talents are needed for each mission. She picks the warrior based on the need. No substitutions allowed, Princess. So you see… there is a definite reason why your name was chosen.” He winked as he yanked one of her curls. “Your talents fit the crime, so to speak.”
“You mean, I cannot just request the biggest, strongest, most handsome warrior in the city?” She laughed teasingly. “Hmm, I wonder if Valen is busy right now.”
Vareilious growled as he grabbed her by her tiny waist and flew to the top of the sacred training dome.
“Bite your tongue, Kitten.”
She growled back at him. “Don’t. Call. Me. Kitten.”
He chuckled. “All joking aside, my love, please be careful out there. I would pray ceaselessly for my death if anything were to happen to you.”
She playfully bumped him with her shoulder. “Come now, Vareilious. You’re immortal… sort of.”
“Yes.” He grabbed her shoulders. “See how horrible my pain would be? Knowing there was no blessed end to it?”
“Fear not, Brother. You trained me well. I can take care of myself now.”
She punched him in slow motion. He playfully acted out the impact, complete with dramatic sound effects. She giggled, but then saw the serious look now clouding his beautiful eyes.
“In the sparring ring, yes, you can. But out there on a mission—Jenevier, there are no rules. Never forget you’re dealing with the worst of the worst. Only the most evil, most sinister, most wicked of beings require our kind of intervention. Never let your guard down.” He squeezed her hands to emphasize his words. “We don’t yet know if you’re immortal. And you cannot even control your change. In truth, we’ve never seen anything like you before. No one here is even capable of teaching you. Think about it. What if you walk right into battle as a regular little girl? Huh? What then?”
“There is nothing regular about me anymore, Vareilious. You saw to that yourself. And whether I fight as me or I don my mask—I’ll be fine.�
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“Jenevier, you speak of that which you do not know, my love. Fighting with me, or even Varick, that’s nothing compared to real battle.” He sighed wearily. “Just promise one thing. Promise me you won’t be foolhardy. If you do that, God will take care of the rest.”
“As you say, Brother. I promise.”
She bowed her head toward him. His shoulders finally relaxed and he stood up straight.
“Very good, Milady. I trust you will keep your word.” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “So… I notice you still aren’t wearing a manacle.”
“A what?”
He rolled his eyes. “You are yet as you were when first you walked in from the hills, you little bumpkin. Have your lessons revealed nothing? A manacle—a ring from your betrothed.”
Jenevier looked down at her bare hands. “Nope. No manacle.”
Vareilious growled under his breath. “He drags his feet too long, arrogant brute.”
“Oh, come now, Brother. Who has time for such things as rings and happiness? Between the constant training sessions and oracle readings, I barely have time to sleep.”
“Yes, but that will soon pass. I remember well our conversation not so long ago under the very roof where we now stand. Jenevier, I will wait for you forever… as long as you tell me there’s still hope. And don’t call me Brother. I wish to be lover, not friend.”
“Hope?” She chuckled through her words. “When did I ever say there was hope? I remember saying I would not deny your proposal, yes. But that was when presented with an impossible chain of events related to a nonexistent future.”
“Jenevier, do not destroy me this day. I know you love me. Do you now deny it?”
“No, Vareilious, I would never deny that precious fact. I do love you. But I am definitely in no hurry to marry. Perish the thought. I was only just reborn. I haven’t had time to even learn how to live my new life. In truth, I’m simply not bored with just being who I am. I tell you now, Brother. I am not ready for a manacle from anyone.”
He smiled. “Very well. That’ll do, for now.”
“So, are you going to fly me back down, or what?”
She indicated with a nod of her head towards the city.
He chuckled. “Why don’t you spread those big sparkly wings and fly me down?”
She snorted and crossed her arms. “Hmpft. I wish I could, you big oaf.”
“Worry not, tiny Princess. One day soon, you will be master of your angelic mask.” His mischievous grin returned. He grabbed her and quickly licked her neck. “In my dreams, you have come to me in both forms,” he whispered.
Her knowing smirk matched his. “And I bet you loved it.”
“Oh, tiny Angel, you have no idea.”
“Aye, Lass. Looks like this one’s meant for just the two of us. I dunnae think it’ll take us long. Have ye heard how awesome I am? Go on, Vareilious. Tell the lass in what kind of hands she will soon be.”
The strongly accented voice came from a grand warrior named Vittorio. Jenevier had seen him many times. He was the third Guardian who stood fast within the Temple, the one who did not retreat with the others during her Pyrolysis. She had seen him many times, yes, but he had never actually spoken to her before.
Vareilious sneered at the ethereal warrior. “So, how in the hell did you manage that?”
“Do I smell jealousy, Brother?” Vittorio turned up one corner of his mouth in a taunting smirk. “Aye now, green slime is rather unbecoming an Angel.”
Vareilious growled. “We are not Angels!”
Jenevier laughed. “It is very nice to finally meet you, Vittorio.”
“Aye, an’ ye as well, lovely maid. I’ve watched ye from afar. I like yer curls, Lass.”
He winked at her then. She blushed.
“And I like your voice… a lot.”
Vareilious growled and yanked hard on one of her curls. She only blushed brighter. Vittorio laughed.
“Now, are ye excited, Lass? Does yer blood churn in yer veins? We’re joining a fierce battle, we are. Ye will be glorious.”
“She has never been to battle, Vittorio. Don’t be so rash. She hasn’t yet mastered her gift. So, you’d better keep a close eye on her.”
“Aye, Vareilious. I’ve had the good fortune of taking many young maids on their first thrill ride. I’m certain this beautiful wee Angel will be nae trouble at all.” His sarcastic smirk looked completely natural on his handsome face. “An’ I promise ye now, Brother. She’ll nae forget her first time with me.”
Vareilious growled again, baring his razor sharp teeth. The guttural sound made the back of Jenevier’s neck prickle, sent a shiver down her spine.
“Mix not vile words, Brothers.” She placed her hand on Vareilious’s heaving chest. “I will hear no more from either of you. Vittorio, are you ready to go now? Or are there some preparations yet to be made?”
“All the preparation ye need is right here, wee warrior girl.”
He held up his massive arms and flexed them in unison. Jenevier rolled her eyes.
“He is of a form, is he not, Vareilious?”
Vareilious only growled in response. She looked from one to the other, shaking her head.
“Brothers you truly are, for you are all the same.” She sighed then and turned to face Vittorio. “I am ready when you are. Yet, I cannot fly.”
“Wait.” Vareilious grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. “Jenevier, you may be gone for years. No one knows. Have you no proper farewell for the man you love?”
“Aye, an’ speaking of him. Does good Varick know yer making time with his wife?”
“I am no one’s wife,” Jenevier answered for herself.
“What? Nae manacle?”
She held up her bare hand in the form of an answer.
“Aye, wee Princess. I’ve held my tongue oot of respect for my captain. If he cannae lasso ye, I’ve nae reason tae hold back. Our time may prove tae be more fun than I was anticipating.” He swooped in, snatching her from Vareilious’s arms. “Hang on for this part,” he whispered against her tingling ear.
*****
Everything went black. Jenevier was whirling through space, tightly wrapped in the massive warrior’s arms. It was nauseating and terrifying. They exploded into a vibrant brightness. She squinted, then felt herself rolling down. The enormous Vanir jerked her up, holding her steady until she found her footing.
He muffled his laughter. “Aye, Lass. I told ye tae hang on.”
“I will better heed your warnings next time.”
All she could see for miles and miles were brown waves of sand.
“Wha-what is this place?”
“Let me just say. Yer nae in Ashgard anymore, Princess.”
“But… where else is there?”
Vittorio laughed. “I forget how young ye are, wee maid. The universe has many layers. Ashgard is but one of them. Ye’ll study aboot it soon enough in yer lessons. So, do ye think we’ll be seeing Vashti on this journey?”
She turned to face him. His brilliant blue eyes blazed in the sun.
“I… I don’t know. Why?”
“Because, Lass. We got company coming. An’ they can see ye.”
“Me? Why me? Can they not see you as well?”
“Aye, Milady. I am Vanir. Of course they cannae see me.”
“Am I not Vanir as well?”
“I cannae say what ye are, wee rabbit. But they fast approach. If ye let them take ye, then ye’ve signed their death warrant with yer own hand. I cannae abide them touching ye. I’ll slaughter them where they stand, I will.”
“But, I thought we were here to—”
“Theirs is nae the battle we seek. Our party is over there.”
Jenevier followed the path of his gigantic finger and saw a swirling black cloud flashing full of sparks and fire.
“Wha-what is that?”
“That is where we’ll dance, Lass. The men coming for ye now, they are the ones we’re here tae p
rotect. Dunnae let them die minus cause. Change now.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “But, I don’t know how.”
“Aye, Lass. Ye see those black things they carry?”
She managed to nod her head. “Yes.”
“They call them guns. They’ll nae kill a Vanir. But they sting like hell. Nae sure what they’ll do tae ye, though.”
The men approached with their guns near their faces. They were screaming something at her she couldn’t understand. She was terrified, trembling. Jenevier didn’t wish ill upon these innocents, but she was paralyzed as to what she could do. She held her hands up in the air and prayed
“Please, show me what I must do.”
That same warm love she had experienced within the Temple swirled around her. The approaching men suddenly ceased their advance. Eventually, they gave up and returned the way they had come.
“Aye, Princess. Ye cut that a wee bit close, ye know.”
Her chest heaved. Her nerves were shot. She could barely manage to speak at all.
“Yeah… I do know.”
“So? How did ye change?”
Jenevier was still trying to catch her breath. She turned to him, furrowing her brow.
“Huh? Oh… I prayed.”
“Good girl, Lass. So, I guess ye need tae pray more often.”
“Vittorio, I think my mask is controlled by love. Or maybe… compassion. I’m not sure, but that’s what I felt.”
“Aye now, compassion changing ye into an executioner? I believe I’d rethink that answer if I were ye. Study upon yer reasoning, Lass. Aye, nice body though.” He lightly ran his finger down her arm. “Looking upon ye like that… it makes me sweat, it does.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Vittorio. You are all the same.”
“Meaning?”
He stretched his wings. She mirrored him.
“Meaning, the constant crude comments and vile suggestions. Are your minds always upon such things?”
“Nae, Milady. It’s all in fun. Naethin’ ill is intended. This is yer first battle. Ye’ll know what it is I speak of after we’ve finished here. There’s a certain amount of fire that being in the heat of battle causes. Yer heart pumps faster. Yer vision is wildly acute. Adrenaline courses through yer veins. Only in combat does a warrior feel truly alive. It’s an awesome high. One we cannae seem tae fully come down from. When ye’ve tasted that of which I speak, ye’ll know why we act as we do. Nae amount of words will make ye understand what happens tae ye when yer a warrior. Ye’ll earn that honor this day, wee Princess.” He gently placed his hand on her chest. “Ye may nae yet have accepted it within yer heart. But ye are a warrior. An’ we are few.” He winked at her then. “We’re nae used tae having someone around tae tease an’ play with. We have fun with ye, Lass. Besides, the look on yer face an’ yer feisty responses, we hold them priceless. There’s nae harm meant. Does it truly bother ye?”
