The Crumpled Sword

by Sydney Presley

  The bird-man’s wail came to an end, leaving a ringing in Warwick’s ears. Its wings lowered to its sides, and David raised the hand that held the cellar. He arced his wrist again, and sparkling fluid flew out, sailing through the air toward the creature. A globule handed on top of the black blood, and the sound of scorching flesh sizzled, smoke from the burn rising in cavorting curls. As with Idaline, a hole appeared at the landing site, in the region of where the heart would be—if it even had a heart. Oddly, there were no cries of pain, but the man-fowl shook its head, seeming just as bewildered by the circumstances as Idaline had. What was it with these two and their egos?

  Then the disappearing act began, the pixilation, and when the particles formed the gnat-like cloud, they buzzed and darted at Warwick and David. One last attempt at fighting back? Their attack was ineffectual, the insect haze unable to move closer, past some sort of barrier. Warwick could only assume the crumpled sword had brought up a shield, keeping them safe. The pixels shot backward, spreading in a fan, then vanished.

  A cracking noise had Warwick snapping his head so he stared at the throne. It split down the middle, the two parts falling to the ground, ash billowing up so thickly it almost obscured the seat from view. Once the dust settled, he felt a hand on his head—David’s—and Warwick shivered in his fur as he watched the throne disintegrate into another gnat swarm then shoot off in the direction that Idaline and the bird-man had gone.

  What was back there? Was there another part of Hell they had yet to discover? Warwick had no urge to do so—he’d had enough of this place—and the silence here was so creepy it brought unease to his wolf bones.

  “Now to find a way out,” he said.

  David walked over to his clothes and began dressing. “I’ve lost all sense of direction. The rip is around here somewhere. Just a matter of finding it.”

  Warwick sniffed the air, wanting to make sure all threats had been eradicated. He knew in his heart they had, but double-checking never hurt anyone. All he could smell was ash and death. So he shifted, settling back into his human body, never so grateful that he was alive—with the bonus of being with the one he was bonded to.

  While he dressed, he watched David for signs of distress. There was a sadness to him, a hunch to his shoulders that spoke of his upset at having killed so many. Warwick could only send him comfort, pushing it at his mate until the slight smile tweaking David’s lips told him his attempt at trying to make him feel better had hit its target.

  “Thank you,” David said. “I know you’re right. They were terrible souls, no helping them. I felt it from every single one of them as they died—the wickedness, the need to devour every bit of good in me and you. If I hadn’t used the poison, they’d have dragged us into their web and kept us here.” He still clutched the cellar, about a centimeter of fluid glistening in the bottom. “I’ll keep hold of this. Just in case. You know. Until we’re out of here.”

  “I understand.”

  Fully clothed now, Warwick walked to where he was sure the rip had been. He waved his arms, patting the air as though he’d encounter something invisible but solid once he touched it. There was nothing, and he turned to David and shrugged. Then the ground rumbled, vibrations filtering up into his body until his skin numbed and his teeth chattered.

  “Oh, hell,” David whispered. “No more. Please, no more.”

  A screech—so loud and so obnoxious—ruptured the air, and Warwick pirouetted to find where it had come from. No beasts, no devils, no Idaline were there, just that infinite wasteland all around them. Then the sound came again, as if Hell itself was in pain, and the beige sky parted, that mouth-rip they’d entered appearing a short way ahead.

  “Quickly,” David said, grabbing hold of Warwick’s arm and tugging him along. “Before the damn thing closes.”

  Warwick raced beside his mate, seeing through the mouth the dark sky of the world he knew best, the stars, the moon, and the glistening surface of the lake. Manakel and Gavreel stood on the Earth side, beckoning with their hands then disappeared. They reached the rip and without a word dived through it. Warwick braced himself for a shocking landing on the crag, and he hadn’t been wrong to anticipate the sharp jab of stone on his body. It hurt like a spiteful son of a bitch, but he didn’t care. He was home.

  Still feeling David’s grip, Warwick came to rest on his side, David plonking down on his arse, breaths heavy. They looked at each other, and Warwick smiled, seeing the mouth-rip beginning to close in his peripheral. The desert-type light that spilled out was growing dimmer by the second, and then it was gone, replaced by the velvet sky of Earth, twinkling stars spread out like spilled silver glitter.

  The sight had never looked so beautiful.

  Warwick was about to tell David to throw the cellar into the lake but saw he wasn’t holding it anymore. “Where did it go?”

  “It vanished as soon as we dived through.” David sighed. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that this is over.”

  Warwick smiled again. “You don’t need to. I know—I can feel your relief.”

  He stood and surveyed the area, expecting to see demons hiding in the woods, peering out from behind the many tree trunks. Instead, he saw flashes of white light, streaks that weaved here and there, some reaching as high as the canopy of leaves. The Angels of Wereling had come to show their appreciation. Then they were gone as quickly as they’d appeared, and Warwick was filled with the same sense of peace he’d experienced when he’d been with Manakel and the others.

  Everything was going to be okay. It really was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gavreel’s hair shimmered from Heaven’s sunlight. David stood in front of the Angel, waiting for him to speak, but Gavreel only smiled and nodded. There was an understanding there, a silent communication that told David that the prophecies in The Objective were going to come true.

  Those souls who had died in the short time since David and Warwick had killed all of Hell had probably found themselves shocked when they’d discovered no devil leader was there to guide them or demonstrate how things worked there. The Angels of Wereling were there instead, showing them the errors of their ways and teaching them right from wrong. Already construction had started in Hell, beautiful glass or white buildings that stood out starkly against the ash and beige, which for some reason couldn’t be erased no matter how hard the Angels tried to clean up.

  David knew all this in his soul, saw it all in his head—saw the confusion on the faces of the recently deceased, too, and he felt sorry for them. But there was hope—and if some souls couldn’t be turned to face the light…

  “We won’t allow them to run roughshod in Hell,” Gavreel said. “Those who can’t find it in themselves to allow goodness into their hearts will be placed in a sectioned-off area, and we will ensure any powers they would have had will be rendered useless. They will roam, full of hatred, but won’t be able to act on it. It seems by razing Hell to the ground and starting again, the strength of evil in the place has gone. It should be easy to teach the souls what we wish them to know and feel.”

  David didn’t need to hear all the details. He was happy that progress was being made and that what he and Warwick had done had been worth it.

  “What’s my role now?” he asked.

  “To behave justly during your life, showing others that they can act in the same manner if they so choose, and be more content that way than the alternative. You will feel like you’ve failed many times, I’m sure, but this is a very long road we’re on. We anticipate several centuries will pass before everyone on Earth has the required level of purity to enter Heaven straight away. But the time will come—after many dark days and nights and yes, wars. To know it will work out in the end is what you must focus on. Your part, Warwick’s part, is an important start. And we all have to start somewhere.”

  The sound of Warwick’s laughter behind him made David realize he’d arrived here by himself—that he had actually come here in one of his own dreams. That in itsel
f was cause for celebration. Something had obviously been unlocked in his mind, allowing his Angel to contact him in the preferred way.

  David turned to see Warwick and Manakel walking toward them, their floating gait something he didn’t think he’d get used to. The unusual ground clouds, too. But he could get used to the peace, that wonderful stillness inside him that filled him up so much there was no room for bad feelings or thoughts. And those two things would return once he woke, he knew that, and he didn’t like the prospect.

  “No one can be good all the time, so it’s useless trying,” Gavreel said. “Isn’t that right, Manakel?”

  Manakel came to a stop in front of David and Gavreel, Warwick standing beside him. “Indeed. You wouldn’t be human or shifter if you didn’t think some impure thoughts.”

  He winked as though he could see the things racing through David’s head, brought on by hearing the word ‘impure’. Warwick and David kissing, tasting, fucking.

  “Those types of thoughts…” Manakel sighed. “Oh, how I miss those days. I was quite the sauce-box in my day.”

  “You’re quite the sauce-box now,” Gavreel said. “And what do you mean you miss those days? Aren’t you getting enough here with me?”

  Gavreel and Manakel were lovers?

  “Of course I get enough.” Manakel smiled. “I was teasing.”

  “Good. Because if you weren’t, your saucy privileges would be greatly diminished until you apologized to the degree that it would convince me you were truly sorry.”

  David laughed and wandered away from them, as was the strangeness of dreams, where you could leave mid-conversation and not have to explain yourself. Warwick appeared by his side, and they walked past the glass buildings toward the smudge on the horizon that was the bright blue pond. Once there, David shifted, his clothes magically disappearing while he did so, and he lapped the water. Warwick knelt next to him, and together they stared into the whirlpool.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Warwick asked.

  David responded via their mind-link. Of course he was sure.

  He saw the depths of the lake by the cabin, and the base of that crag buried deep into the gritty bed. A separate boulder sat against the crag, and David willed it to move. It obeyed and rolled, chucking up silt and muddying the water. Then the debris settled, revealing a hole the boulder had concealed.

  “Come out,” he whispered with his mind while he continued to lap at the water. “You can come out now. It’s safe.”

  Six eyes peered out at him from the darkness inside the crag. Then the first person climbed out; his father, who stared around either searching for David or checking whether the coast was really clear. He bent over and gestured at the hole, then David’s mother swam free, quickly followed by Rachel. The trio stood there wearing the clothes they’d worn on the days they’d died, expressions showing his parents’ confusion and Rachel’s delight.

  “She’s gone now,” David said. “Idaline and the others have been removed.”

  He’d used that word to save uttering ‘killed’—such an ugly word that prodded at him, reminding him of what he’d done. But if it meant seeing his family, he’d remove those wicked souls a million more times.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Follow my voice.”

  They floated toward him, joined together by their hand-holding, eyes darting left and right. It was clear Idaline had terrorized them after she’d locked them away, and a fresh wave of guilt terrorized David as he thought of all the years Rachel had been trapped inside the crag alone, at Idaline’s mercy.

  “It’s okay, brother of mine,” she said. “I know it wasn’t your fault. And Warwick heard me; I talked to him so wasn’t always by myself.”

  David lapped the water even more, pulling his family closer until their faces filled the whirlpool and he anticipated them hurtling out and landing on the pond bank. There they came, growing bigger and bigger until they were thrust out of the pool and into the air. David stopped drinking and turned to watch them stand on dry, if cloudy ground. His family shifted into their animals, cavorting to him with yelps and whimpers, and for the first time that he could recall, David was treated to his father licking his ear then rubbing his muzzle on top of David’s head.

  The emotions were overwhelming, and to stop himself from having an awkward conversation that he didn’t even think was necessary now, he remained wolf. Apologies from his father and mother seeped into him regardless, and he yipped in acknowledgement then jerked his head so they would follow him.

  He walked back the way he and Warwick had come, Warwick by his side, and looked over his shoulder to make sure his family followed. They were right there on his heels, and by the time Gavreel and Manakel came into view, David was exhausted from receiving so many apologies and pledges to make amends.

  “No more saying sorry. Go with them,” David said. “They’ll look after you until I can come here again. Maybe in my dreams, or maybe not until I cross the rainbow bridge, but we will meet in the future and everything will work out.”

  He turned away, began running, and in an instant Warwick was running next to him, a wolf himself, the pair of them free from burdens and responsibilities. The sun shone, the air was fresh and clean, and a stream of Angels in their wolf forms came out of the buildings, howling, barking, and yipping. Unable to take any more thanks for his part in bringing Hell down, David streaked to the pond, lapped to create a whirlpool, and waited for Warwick to jump into it. Then David followed, knowing that now was the time to move on. To live how he always should have—liberated and unencumbered by guilt. Life would be amazing now. It would.

  He opened his eyes to the sound of Warwick’s soft snores. His mate smiled in his sleep, and David knew Warwick had been pulled into David’s dream with him, experiencing it at the same time as David. So it had been a dream but not a dream, and they had been invited to Heaven for the second time to be shown that The Objective’s predictions had come true.

  Warwick turned over, presenting his back to David, and that was more than all right. David spooned him, draping an arm over his waist and cupping his mate’s balls. He stroked upward, enticing Warwick to come alive, and the man himself roused from slumber, his cock following suit. It twitched beneath David’s hand, then he curled his fingers around it and began jacking him off.

  David’s erection throbbed against Warwick’s arse, and David gyrated his hips, stimulating himself in the crevice. Warwick hummed his appreciation and reached back to massage David’s backside. Excitement built to a level where David knew he’d come quickly, and instead of holding back, he allowed his body to lead the way. Warwick’s hardness grew even more, and the pulse of his vein on David’s palm had David’s ejaculation spilling out of him. He went light-headed and cried out, body juddering through his orgasm as Warwick’s seed erupted, Warwick digging his nails into the soft flesh of David’s arse.

  Coming down from that kind of high was difficult. It had only been a quick coupling, but the emotions he’d been waiting for since bonding with Warwick poured into him. He knew every bit of Warwick now as much as Warwick knew them himself. Umpteen images shot through David’s mind, snippets of Warwick’s childhood, the times he’d laughed and cried, the times he’d been angry or happy. The teenage years, then young adulthood, and then the moments leading up to meeting David where Warwick had wandered through life aimlessly, not really knowing which direction to take until Manakel had guided him in David’s direction.

  And there they were, two Superiors who still had so much to learn but were so willing to be taught. They’d make mistakes and they’d beat themselves up over it.

  But, let’s rephrase that: They’d rejoice in making the right decisions when they made them and put any errors down to teething problems then move on.

  It was the only way forward. To be happy, good, and make a difference in the world.

  “I love you,” Warwick said.

  “I love you, too.” And David smiled the first truly genuine smile of hi
s life.

  He was in love—and he intended to stay that way.

  Forever.