Among Aniels

by Quinn Blackbird

  The Lost Square is far from the Textile District, and it takes a healthy person on a cool day at least an hour to walk the distance. But with my ailing health—even with the fresh remedy coursing through me—minutes are ticking by me too quickly.

  Passing through Scholar Square, I look up at the clock tower and see that I have less than fifteen minutes before the Daemon comes for me. And it’s a long walk from here, still.

  That’s when I see him, and it’s like fate is aligning for me, answering my early doubts with reassurance.

  I spot Mikhael at the shopfront of a bookstore. I rush across the street to him, cutting off a foul-mouthed carriage driver who waves his fist at me and shouts loud enough to flood the street with profanities. The commotion snatches Mikhael’s attentions and, in a blink, he spots me hurrying towards him. His eyes widen as he notices my attire. He parts his mouth, but appears lost for words.

  I don’t allow him a moment to collect himself.

  “I need a bronze coin,” I rush out, my breath all tangled and hoarse. “For a carriage ride home—now, Mikhael!”

  His eyes are wide and glazed-over. He quickly fishes into his breeches pockets and pulls out a handful of coin. I pluck the copper one from his palm and, without another word, I’m rushing back to the street.

  I flag down a carriage in seconds, and I’m on my way home with time starting to tilt to my side of the playing court.

  Mikhael might think me rude to treat him such a way, but I don’t have minutes to spare on him or his woes, or even the bizarre message he has sent me. Can’t think about him right now, can’t think about intrak or his engagement to my sister or how he left me with Koal in the shadows of the Twisted Wood.

  I can only think about leaving the Capital. And, no less, how much trust I’m putting in Silver, an aniel who might slit my throat for a cursed ruby. And I am putting too much faith in him. After all, there have been vilas and aniels tangled together since near the beginning of our time, and I know of none of those relationships that have ended well. They always end in either heartbreak and death. Sometimes both.

  And here I am, throwing it all away, falling blindly into hope, with an aniel who bought me some pretty dresses.

  Will I become the foolish vilas in one of those stories we know all too well in the Capital? Like Lilly with the aniel Xena? There’s is a story I heard not too long ago. The details of their tale have me dubious, but still, something happened between them. One day, Xena and Lilly lived on the West Side, in a townhouse near the gardens, and the next, Lilly was gone.

  The stories, of course, are wild. The most common tale of them goes like this—

  The aniel, Xena, wandered the gardens one Saturday morning. She came across Lilly, who sat in a bed of flowers to match her name, and made chains from the fresh greens stems. Xena watched her until the early-day sun burned into the hot midday sun. That’s when Xena joined her, and they made lily-chains together.

  Xena was fast to obsess over Lilly. Some say love, but that’s a matter of opinion—and my opinion is that aniels can’t love. Not like we do. And so, Xena adored the vilas, but never loved.

  Soon, Lilly moved into Xena’s townhouse on the West Side. Often, they were seen wandering the Emporium Quarter together, hand-in-hand, and other times, Xena stole Lilly away on her sea-travels, taking her to the farthest and most peculiar isles in the world.

  Then, Lilly started to do what mortals do. Age. She got too old, and her wrinkles became too deep.

  Last time I saw them, in the Merchant Markets two years ago, the crow lines on the edges of Lilly’s face were noticeable. I suppose Xena found them noticeable as well.

  And so, Xena—who couldn’t bear to see Lilly love another, and couldn’t bring herself to kill her—offered her up to a secret ring, one that’s said to be run by few Gods and many aniels. The ring is rumoured to run some sort of prison and arena out in the Wild Woods, where lower aniels and vilas are pitted against each other to fight to the death.

  These rumours are mere whispers on the winds of the Capital, and yet, something about the raw cruelty of the rumours rings true to me. I don’t find it hard to imagine this sheer wickedness from a select few Gods—like Blaze, the God of Fire, and even Prince Poison, one of the wickedest of them all.

  I believe the rumour is true in my heart. Like I said, one day Lilly was there, and the next, she was never seen again. Two years have passed since I last saw her wander the Capital streets with Xena. Two years since anyone has spotted her.

  Imagine loving an aniel so much that you swear to spend the rest of your life with her, and she ends the relationship by selling you to a bloodbath where you must fight to the death, all because she couldn’t let you live without her?

  Whether the arena is real or not, the truth is in the story—the truth is the nature of the aniels. Vicious, unforgiving and wholeheartedly selfish.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s not like this will be my fate. It’s not at all like Silver loves me.

  Silver said himself that he doesn’t feel much for me, if anything at all. He has been clear about this being a mutually beneficial bargain—that I will pay up a debt when he asks it of me.

  I should be worried about what he wants from me in the end, what bargain he will come to collect on, but for the life of me I can’t.

  As the carriage pulls up into my street, all I can fret about is that I must escape the Daemon, and everything else is a secondary trouble. Nothing else, nothing that Silver and Fox come to collect from me, can be as terrible as an eternal bond to a Daemon.

  A daunting chime strikes me out of my thoughts. The sound rings around me, luring out tiny prickles on my skin. Then another chime. And another. I count twelve, and I know that noon is upon the Capital. Even with the carriage, I didn’t make it back in time.

  Still, I’m not ready to give up just yet.

  I jump out of the carriage before it’s even come to a full stop, and I stagger up the porch steps. Just as I’m bursting through the front door, Olivia is rushing across the lobby. The alarm on her beautiful face spears through me, and I read her too easily.

  “He’s here,” I whisper as she runs to me.

  “With father,” she breathes, hard, as though she’s run the length of the District on the hottest day of the year.

  Olivia grabs me by the arms and, before she can speak what I already know, I cut her off, “Buy me some time. Can you do that? Say I’m poorly and I’ve gone down for a sleep. Say what you have to say, just make sure he doesn't come up to my room.”

  Mutely, Olivia nods. Silent tears wet her sparkling eyes and, deep inside, I loathe her for it. Now, after everything she has said and done to me, she decides to care for me once a Daemon is on my trail. Still, I need her help, so I just peel her hands off me, give them a squeeze, then rush past her, and up the staircase. I head to mother’s room first, all the way to the top floor of the house. Don’t know if I need to loot from her, but I do it all the same. Best to have means with me if I need them, than to be without any funds at all.

  Mother sleeps in her bed. There’s an almost-empty phial of remedy on her nightstand. The sight of it twists something sickly in my gut.

  I might be short on time—or completely empty of it now—but I can’t afford to let mother fall away. So I rush to her bedside and, using a lipstick and scrap piece of parchment, scribble the name of the shop I acquire out remedies from. I leave it tucked under the phial for when she runs out. Someone else will have to venture into the Shadow Quarter for her remedies now that I’ll be gone.

  Before I leave mother’s bedchambers, I steal fistfuls of her jewels from her dressing table. I stuff lumps of bracelets and necklaces deep in my pockets, then sneak out silently, as though I’ll suddenly spook her awake with even the creak of a door.

  I burst through my bedroom, then quickly slam it behind me. Maybe not the best to make all this noise, but hurrying comes at a cost. Under my wardrobe, I wrestle out an old leather bag and rip it open.
The buckles slap apart and knock off my kneecap. I wince, but I give no spare moment to myself, and practically tear apart my room. I pack the necessities—

  My leftover remedies, a change of undergarments and a blue day-dress (from Silver), slippers and flat boots, hair clasps and gloves, a thick coat to fight off the night’s chill, and some daggers (just in case. It’s the Wild Woods, after all). I even add a few tubs of skin cream and a couple of wash rags. Just because I’m headed to the Wild Woods doesn't mean I should be dirty and dry-skinned. I empty my pockets of the jewels I stole from mother and stash them away in the bag.

  When I’m finished, I buckle the bag shut, throw the strap over my quick-to-ache shoulder, then stumble to the door. I wrestle with the doorknob for a beat before I throw it open and—

  Before I can take a step over the threshold, I’m stopped in my tracks.

  A Daemon stands in the doorway.

  8.

  Rooted to the spot, I watch—my breath trapped in my throat—as long beige fingers reach up and, slowly, draw back the hood.

  Koal.

  The sun-kissed pallor of his skin looks darker under the dim lantern light in the hall, and his face is as stony as a pillar. Dark eyes bore into me, deep into my soul, searching for secrets that quickly turn his pink mouth into a twisted line.

  “Running away, little vilas?” His gaze lazily slips to the bag slung over my shoulder. A spark gleams in his eye and his twisted mouth slides into a dark smile that shudders my bones. “This might be more fun than I expected.”

  I have a breath’s moment before Koal lunges at me.

  A cry catches in my throat. I topple back, dropping the bag, and my feet tangle in the loose strap. I hear the thud of my landing before I feel the hot rush of pain spreading up my spine to my throbbing shoulder blades.

  Koal is on me in a blink.

  He straddles me, his hands snatch my wrists and pin them to the carpet. Slowly, he leans over me, his dark smile fading to a look that’s so ancient and evil that my eyes sting with tears.

  Horror strikes me like lightning. I watch, frozen on the floor, as Koal’s mouth starts to part—and it spreads wider and wider, like a gaping chasm of nothingness, and all I see among the blackness is a set of pearlescent teeth. The teeth warp—they seem to sharpen into little needle-points, and I know now I am seeing the monster I always thought Daemons to be.

  The scream that rips through me is so fierce that the walls shudder in the house, and my body seizes up with the beginnings of a fit. My back arches—one beat, two—and the next thing I remember is the violent wrath of my sickness rattling me on the floor. I’m seizing.

  In my hazy sight, I’m faintly aware of the Daemon giving pause. He hesitates and simply watches me writhe and batter on the carpet.

  My head cracks off the ground, again and again, and distantly, I feel the hot sensation of blood pooling there.

  Can’t stop it. Can’t fight the violent surges that rattle my body. My arms are stiff at my side and, with my teeth so tightly clenched, my jaw feels about ready to shatter.

  Koal’s face shutters just as my eyes start to roll back. This’ll be a long one. A firm sensation cups the back of my head and lifts. My neck strains and a guttural groan catches inside of me. Someone is lifting my head off the ground, bringing it forward until my chin presses into my collarbone.

  For a fleeting, strangled moment, I think maybe Koal is shielding my head from the impact. But then, this is a practiced move only known by those in my home. A servant has come to me, and protected me against the harm my own body wants to inflict on me.

  This goes on a for while. I ride it out, feeling the rigid tension in my body, the violent juts that spear through me. And, finally, when the spell starts to fade, and my movements slow to a stop, I can pry open my eyes.

  Blurs always cling to my sight after a seizure. It takes me too long, and too many blinks, to see the outlines of those around me.

  Koal is standing now, looking down on me with hate twisting his face. The disgust rolls off him like waves down the side of a pirate ship.

  Someone, though, is cradling my head. There are knees tucked under the bloody patch of my head, and gentle fingers stroke strands of hair away from my sweaty cheeks.

  Faintly, I feel the familiar cool kiss of a phial pressing against my lips. Instinctively, I part my mouth and let the stream of crimson remedy run down my throat.

  As I drink, I look up at the face hovering above me. Light clings to blonde ringlets, like a halo, and beautiful, gentle features look down on me. For a beat, I think I’m dead and some otherworldly creature has come to care for me. But then, I blink, and recognition sinks into my muggy mind.

  Olivia.

  I try to croak her name, but all that happens is the remedy gurgles at the back of my throat.

  “Shh,” she hushes. “Give yourself a moment.”

  Olivia surprises me. Not only is she helping me, she knows what to do. Perhaps I underestimated her patience and care with mother. Perhaps she spends more time looking after her than I thought.

  Olivia peels away the phial from my blood-stained lips. I can taste the copper in my mouth. Must have bitten my tongue.

  My face twists with a grimace as I try to push up. But Olivia gently guides me back down to her folded lap, and I fall, slumped and defeated.

  Too foggy to let the fear sink in. Still, through the smog, I’m all too aware of Koal standing at my feet, his cloak clinging to him like the shadows of the dead. His burning black eyes piercing through me like spears from the pits of the Underworld.

  He’s got me now.

  All hope of fleeing has been stomped out, just like that. In a blink. In a heartbeat. My future, so easily thrown out.

  “Look at me,” Olivia whispers softly, some sound from her that I have never heard before. Who knew that this wicked sister could be sweet at times? And how she knew just what to do with my seizure baffles my muggy mind.

  As if reading my thoughts, she sets aside the phial—that I notice is larger than my own, and not one I have ever purchased myself—and cups my head in her slender hands. “I have a back-up store,” she confesses. “In case mother ...” She thinks better of whatever she was going to say. “With Father, one can never be certain that mother will have the remedy she needs.”

  A lazy frown knits between my brows.

  So Olivia thinks the same of father as I do. A merciless, greedy, self-centred brute who cares little about mother, and even less about me.

  I part my bloody lips to speak. Before I can utter a sound, Olivia hushes me and bends over to meet her mouth to my ear.

  She whispers, her breath hot and sticky on my skin, “When I hit him with the vase, you run. You only get one shot at this.”

  Then, she pulls back and continues stroking my hair.

  Bit by bit, the energy from the remedy is starting to pile up inside of me, like building stones. I can feel the effects rising higher, pushing air into my chest, rousing colour on my hot cheeks.

  Olivia pretends not to notice the tell-tale signs of my remedy kicking in. She looks to Koal, whose grimace is reserved only for me. “You can’t take her just yet,” she tells him. His black gaze suddenly blazes and he throws his wild stare at her. “I only mean,” she adds meekly, a fresh shiver in her voice, “that she needs to rest—an hour, at most. If you could help me lift her to the bed...”

  She trails off and, for a moment, I’m convinced Koal has no intentions of helping. But then, he seems to decide that he doesn't want to wait around any longer than he already has, and he takes a shadowy step closer to me. That cloak of his only accentuates that otherworldly aura of his. But as he moves for me, his cloak parts with the passing air, and I catch a glimpse of his—surprising—attire. He almost looks just like any other person in the Capital. Black breeches, black boots that gleam like freshly spilled ink, and a black shirt to match. He wears no vest or cravat, giving him a lazy look that belongs in the dens of the Lost Square.

  K
oal crouches at my side. His coal-black eyes rinse over me, over the sweaty sheen of my face, the blood on my mouth, and my chest as it rises and falls with choppy breaths.

  “So this is what you are,” he growls something hoarse and distant. Almost like he’s bored with this whole situation. Like he’d rather just snatch me up now, cage me away, and toss the key into the pits of the Underworld.

  It’s never been said that Daemons want a mate. In all the stories, the Daemons look at their mates and treat them like chores that must be seen to. There is no love lost between Daemons and their mates, and I don’t believe my case to be any different. In fact, I suspect he despises me more for my sickness than what any Daemon normally would.

  “Hold just a moment,” Olivia says and stands, gently setting my head down on the carpet. The squishing sound of blood confirms that my head is cracked. She runs to the bag that I dropped. I watch her out the corner of my eye as she unbuckles it, then riffles through the contents for a minute.

  Koal spares her a mere suspicious glance before he returns to watching me. You know, for an ancient creature who loathes me more than anyone has ever despised anyone, he has taken quite a fancy to watching me.

  “Oh, Keela,” Olivia sighs, and turns on me. There is something off about her tone. Something that niggles away inside of me and prickles my suspicions. “Where is your medicine?”

  Medicine?

  I haven’t had true doctor-prescribed medicine since I was a child. She knows this, too. Mother and I both survive on the remedies provided by the black market in the Shadow District.

  “Oh,” she huffs and stands. “Over here, that’s right.”

  I notice she takes extra effort to boot my bag away in frustration, kicking it into the hall and out of the room. She marches over to my dressing table and snatches up the thick crystal vase. No flowers protrude from its mouth, since I usually keep the vase as a secret hiding place for leftover remedies. But Olivia doesn't know that. And it’s empty now.