Ashes to Ashes

by Carrie F. Shepherd

  Aiken, who had learned long ago when the time for argument with Noliminan had come to an end, thinned his lips and took his seat. He made no vow, however, not to direct his people against the vampires. Nor would he. He had made a promise to Jamiason and he intended to keep it.

  “That goes for each and every one of you.” Noliminan seemed to make eye contact with each member of the Council in turn. “Be warned.” His eyes fell on Lord Loki. “The consequences for disobeying me on this matter will be damning.”

  Loki, no longer necessarily afraid of Noliminan, merely smiled in return.

  -32-

  When the dathanorna awoke, some two sunrises later, it did so with a fuzzy head and an even fuzzier mind. The smells of the forest had returned to their rights. Gone was the sweetness of the elves and the bitter tang of the vampires.

  It shivered, understanding clearly that the elves had done it a kindness. They had spared its life when to have taken it would have, by all accounts, been the wiser decision.

  Understanding this, it comprehended something else as well: One day, the pretty copper haired prince would demand his repayment. It also understood that, no matter what the request may be, the dathanorna, damned from birth, would have no choice but to oblige.

  -33-

  Ishitar appeared to be unsurprised to see me wearing the face of another and sitting in the chair at Zamyael’s side. Rather, he merely leaned over and kissed the demoness on the cheek, forcing her to put aside her needlework so that she might give him a motherly hug.

  “You missed a farce of a counsel today, Ishy.” Zadkiel muttered as he dragged himself toward the lad.

  “Oh?”

  “Ta.” My brother indicated me with his chin. “Ask him if you don’t believe it.”

  Ishitar smiled. “Why would I not believe it?”

  “Your father demanded the Gods stay out of the war between the elves and the demons.” I explained. “He was goading Aiken, of course.”

  “Of course.” Ishitar’s expression grew contemplative. “Why does he care?”

  “Aiken has aligned himself with the elves.” Zadkiel shrugged. Though he couldn’t hear me when I spoke, and I hadn’t signed my words, he had the wits enough to assume what I’d said. “And your father has taken a special interest in the first of their kind.”

  “Doesn’t want Aiken and his people mucking with them?”

  “Just so.” I agreed.

  “That elf had best watch himself.” Zamyael prophesized. “Being the subject of Noliminan’s fascination has never boded well for anyone.”

  I leaned toward her and kissed her temple. She, of all people, knew best what the Bwuet Va was capable of.

  “Least of all, beautiful Goddesses.” Ishitar winked at her. She blushed prettily and lowered her gaze. “I’m not overly concerned for the elf. He has Aiken on his side.”

  “And Loki.” Zadkiel’s eyes narrowed. “Which puts a target directly upon his back.”

  “Moira’s business.” I reminded him by signing with my hands. This was followed by a grin as Zadkiel snorted at me. “And she’s a fickle Goddess.”

  “More fickle than you know.” He threw my own words, said long ago and not to him, back at me.

  I was helpless not to laugh.

  “Perhaps I should pay a visit to this elf.” Ishitar muttered under his breath.

  “Careful.” Zadkiel’s eyes narrowed. “If your father has taken an interest in him, he won’t want you meddling.”

  “What can he do?” Ishitar asked, grinning, “Spank me?”

  “He can do whatever he wants to do.” Zamyael, who wore a faraway expression, reminded them in distant tones. “If not to you, then to those that you love.”

  Ishitar’s brow furrowed. His lips thinned slightly before he nodded. He understood what she said to be true. Zadkiel had been whipped, after all, for the mere fact that Ishitar had chosen Loki as his mentor.

  “Stay out of it.” Zadkiel warned. “That’s my best advice.”

  Ishitar, who had never enjoyed being schooled in the manner in which he should behave, merely gave him a distracted nod.

  -34-

  When the great marble gate came into view, Iladrul’s relief overwhelmed him. He had made it home safely. And, though, not all of the doxies had survived the long journey, enough had that, once the war was over, they could rebuild the doxy village.

  “Let’s get them to the castle proper for the time being.” Xylon muttered under his breath, his strange, fairy’s eyes darting suspiciously around the forest. “The Gods know we don’t need them to fall at your very gates.”

  Iladrul nodded, dug his heels into the flank of his horse, and led his people to what he hoped was the safety of his home.

  -35-

  “What will you do?” I asked Ishitar, truly curious to know his answer.

  “Nothing.” He muttered as he paced the length of his room. “What can I do? My father will play his hand. Then I will play mine.”

  “Yours is a reactionary game, then?”

  “It’s the game my mother taught me to play.”

  Perhaps, I thought. Or, perhaps, Aiken is right and you really are playing a game of your own.

  Not wanting to tip my hand to him, not wanting him to understand that I knew him better than he may have wanted, I opted not to respond.

  -36-

  The defeat that coursed through Iykva’s veins was burning. As was the narrowed eyed judgment that passed upon him from his King. Yet, now was not the time to back down or turn tail from his passions.

  “I can capture them again.”

  “And do what with them?” Jamiason asked, his cobalt blue eyes narrowing. “They didn’t breed as you’d wished. They were far too young!”

  “Then I force my patience this time.” Iykva snapped. He was becoming irritated. He didn’t care for the fact that his failure was being thrown at him as an excuse to keep the damned and blasted elf that Jamiason had become obsessed with alive. “I asked too much of children. So let them become men.”

  “Why can you not just let this matter go?” Paul asked, impatient. “I want to walk within the rays as well.” His voice was flat and harsh. “But at what cost?”

  “He does have Aiken fighting at his side.” Jamiason nodded. “What God would forgive you?”

  “I should hope the God that rules me.” Iykva seethed. “And, if not him, then his pet wolf.”

  Jamiason and Paul exchanged an irritated glance and then returned their attention to Iykva. It was Jamiason who spoke. “We’ve told you from the beginning that your aims are foolish.” His thick lips pursed. “Would you damn us all?”

  “You damn yourself, Jamiason Scrountentine!” Iykva knew he would regret the outburst eventually, but, for the moment, he didn’t care. “With your inaction and protection over a child that is not of your own blood.”

  “We fought as brothers.” Jamiason’s eyes narrowed even further. “And in an effort to be treated as one.”

  “We are not treated as one!” Iykva cried. “Even in exile! And you know that well!”

  “The sun rises soon.” Paul raised his hands, almost as if he meant to placate the demons. “And we’re all war weary.”

  “I go, Jamiason.” Iykva swallowed the bile that rose into his throat. “With our without your support.”

  Jamiason merely shook his head and waved his hand at Iykva, dismissing him.

  -37-

  Gorgon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as Raphael fastened the bell that was to be his summoning charm around his ankle. His eyes darted nervously to his Lord and Master and his heart thrummed in his chest. He had heard, for the full of his life, stories of the cruel acts that the King of Lords had committed against his servants.

  “Hmm.” King Noliminan’s lips thinned as he stared into the large basin that Raphael had told Gorgon was called a Crect’antee. He had braved a look within when Raphael had told him its purpose and had found the liquid gold within its bowl to be fascinatingly beaut
iful. “These demons are tenacious.”

  “Your Grace?” Raphael turned toward him, smiling.

  King Noliminan’s eyes, identical to Raphael’s, flipped upward. He gave his archangel a broad smile. Gorgon thought, looking upon that smile, he could understand why, despite his cruelty, the members of the Quorum had come to love their Lord and Master.

  “They’re marching toward Wisterian.” As he spoke, his eyes flicked to Gorgon, who blushed slightly and lowered his gaze. “This time, I believe Iykva means to strike at the heart of the castle.”

  “It would be the wiser move, your Grace.” Raphael, still smiling, replied. He stood and turned Gorgon. “Now you’re properly ready to serve.”

  “And I have my first task for you.”

  “Your Grace?” Gorgon wished he could slap down the snakes that were flailing wildly about his face. He was growing to loathe the damned things.

  King Noliminan, however, seemed amused.

  “How do you kill a snake?” He asked Gorgon.

  Gorgon didn’t find that question very funny. Though, obviously King Noliminan, wearing a self-satisfied smirk, did.

  “I don’t know, your Grace.”

  “You cut off its head.” He replied, stepping forward and reaching for one of the snakes that made up Gorgon’s hair.

  As he did so, his fingers bit into the throat of the little beast, smashing it. The agony that rushed through Gorgon’s body made him cry out with horror and surprise. When the King of Lords dropped the snake, its head fell to the ground at Gorgon’s feet.

  “That hurt you?”

  “Yes.” Gorgon whispered as he tried to bite back the tears that were springing to his eyes. “Your Grace. It did.”

  “Interesting.” He turned away as if bored.

  King Noliminan bent over the Crect’antee again and narrowed his eyes. Gorgon realized, as he did so, that Raphael was looking at him with a sad, almost apologetic smile. Gorgon smiled weakly in return.

  “What you are to do, my son,” King Noliminan dipped his finger into the gold liquid within the bowl, “is travel to Anticata and look Iykva straight in the eyes. Turn the carvetek mouk into stone.” He looked upward. Gorgon didn’t care much for his smile. Nor did he care to be called ‘son’ by this man. “See how he likes being frozen in time for as long as it takes for someone to care enough about him to release him.”

  “Your Grace,” Gorgon shivered. “I can’t do that. My father always says—”

  “You aren’t in service to Loki!” He growled. His voice was booming. So much so that Gorgon felt like covering his ears. “You are in service to me and you will do as I bid.”

  “It does seem extreme, your Grace.” Raphael’s voice was shaking as he said these words. “Don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter.” He spun on Raphael, his hand flying to strike him. Raphael, an old master of this game, dodged out of the way just in time.

  “Forgive me, your Grace.” He whispered.

  This seemed to placate the King of Lords. He glared at Raphael for a moment and then returned his attention to Gorgon.

  “Do as you are bid.” He growled as he pointed to the snake head on the floor. “Lest you see more of your little friends join that one.”

  Before Gorgon could respond, he spun on his heel and stormed out the door.

  Gorgon raised his gaze and met Raphael’s. “I won’t survive him.”

  “You will.” Raphael sighed and walked toward the sofa. He threw himself upon it and raised his foot onto the table in front of it. “After all, you really don’t have a choice.”

  Watching Raphael, Gorgon remembered his father’s last words to him and wondered if his brother’s words were true.

  -38-

  Sappharon’s lips spread wide across her face as she opened the door and her eyes fell upon Lucias’ son. She sprang toward him, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. He seemed pleased by this, as his snakes began attacking her fiercely, ticking her skin.

  “Is my Mother home?” Gorgon asked her as he stepped away.

  “She is.” Sappharon signed. “In the garden; playing with Banshee.”

  Gorgon smiled at her, nodded and made his way into the cottage. Sappharon, who had never been one to respect the privacy of others, followed after him. When they passed through the kitchen and into the back yard, Gorgon looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a patient smile. “You don’t have to follow. I can serve her needs.”

  “I don’t mind.” Sappharon signed at him.

  Familiar with Sappharon’s ways, Gorgon merely shook his head and proceeded out the back door.

  When Lucias saw him, her face split into a wide grin. She sat the baby on her bottom and flew toward Gorgon, hugging him tightly. As she did so, she noticed the limp snake hanging from his head and recoiled.

  “Piss on the Gods, Gorgon!” She cried as she reached for it; she had picked up Loki’s sayings over the years. I always find this particular turn to be an amusing one, but more so when it escapes from her lips. “What happened to him?”

  “The King of Lords happened to him.” Gorgon replied frowning. “He snapped his head off to make metaphor.”

  Her lips thinned at that. “Always one to prove a point.”

  “He wants me to turn Iykva to stone.” Gorgon told her, his voice heavy with his grief. “And, if I don’t, he said he’ll take the heads off of all of them.”

  “He’ll do no such thing.” Sappharon turned at the sound of Loki’s voice. She smiled at Ishitar, who was following behind him. “If he touches a single one more, I’ll have his head.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it, Fete.” Gorgon sighed. “I must do as he has bid.”

  Loki’s lips thinned.

  “Perhaps the shadows have shifted their weight long enough.” Lucias sighed. “Perhaps you should lay claim to Raziel’s throne now rather than waiting.”

  “Without a full Quorum?” Loki asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “And with half of them not yet knee high to a pixie?”

  “There is a way.” Ishitar muttered under his breath. “If, that is, you’re willing to trust Loki.”

  “What have you got on your mind?” Lucias asked, walking toward him.

  “I can transfer a portion of your power to Loki.” He replied. Sappharon’s brow immediately furrowed. “It would be temporary. Just until you, yourself, are properly returned to your throne.”

  Lucias grinned at him. Sappharon shivered. She raised her hands in argument.

  “That is a mistake!” She signed. “If you give your power away, there’s no saying that Loki will want to give it back!”

  “She has a fair point, Luci.” Loki, who looked as uncomfortable with the idea as Sappharon felt, replied. “With power comes greed.”

  “The very fact that you worry about your potential actions tells me that you will not act upon them.” Ishitar advised him. “But, if you are concerned, I shall keep control over the binding of it. If I believe you are taking advantage of the situation, I shall return Lucias’ power to her. By then everyone will consider you as the Sovereign Lord.”

  “And what of Lucias?” Sappharon signed. “Who will protect her in her weakened state?”

  “The one who always has.” Lucias replied, stepping toward her and placing her hand on Sappharon’s shoulder. “You’ve served me long and true, Sappharon. And I have been holding onto something to give you when the shadows shifted rightly.”

  “I don’t want any gift from you!” She replied. “I want you to see common sense.”

  Lucias raised her hand and ran her finger lovingly over Sappharon’s brow. As she did so, an electricity unlike any that the demon had ever known coursed through her veins. And, as Lucias came to the end of her brow, the heavy wings she had carried the full of her life fell from her shoulder blades to land with a heavy thud to the ground.

  “I don’t . . .” She spun around to look at them, horrified.
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  “I took Raguel’s powers from her on the day I took her life.” Lucias said, her voice gentle. “They belong to you now, met paken. And when Loki exchanges his powers with mine, we shall, at long last, be equals.”

  “It’s not a gift that I can accept.” Sappharon swallowed as she signed these words. “You are now, and always shall be, my Lady.”

  Lucias leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She then turned away to face Ishitar. Gorgon, who had watched all of this in silent confusion, stepped forward as if to stop her.

  But he didn’t. He allowed her to walk toward Loki and take his hand. When their fingers were entwined, Ishitar reached forward and grasped each of their wrists. The moment he did so, a bright light surrounded them both, blinding Sappharon with its glory.

  The transformation in Loki was instantaneous. His back straightened and his dark purple eyes grew wide. By the time Ishitar dropped their wrists, Loki was looking down on Lucias with obvious love and quiet fascination.

  “Go to him.” Lucias placed her palm upon his cheek. “And claim the throne that is rightfully yours.”

  He leaned forward, kissed her gently and was, very suddenly, gone.

  Sappharon stared at the spot where he had stood knowing one thing and one thing only: there was nothing about this blasphemy that could possibly work in Lucias’ favor.

  -39-

  “I can’t tell you what happened between Loki and Noliminan when Loki approached him to demand Raziel’s old title and throne.” I advise Charlie in reverent tones. “He approached Noliminan when no one else was about. And, since Loki had begun eating Ishitar’s pies, I was able to train on him less and less without his allowance.”

  “When they both returned?” Charlie asked, his attention turned completely toward me. “Did Loki wear Raziel’s crown?”

  “Oh yes.” I smile at him. “And Noliminan wore a wound upon his cheek which glows as a bright pink scar to this very day.”