Ash & Flame: Season One

by Geiger, Wilson

  She winced, regretting the words the instant they slipped free of her lips. They pierced her father like daggers and his eyes fell downcast to the floor. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but it was too late to take it back now. The truth seemed like it was always the easier choice, but it always seemed to hit the hardest.

  Hitting her dad with that harsh truth, the one person in the whole world who'd sacrificed everything he had to give her what he could, even his courage, was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Right next to telling herself the truth.

  "Em, these people, they're not my family." Dad looked up at her as he spoke, and he held her gaze, his eyes soft. "They're not your family. All I want is to keep you safe. You understand that, right?"

  Emma bit back the retort on her lips and nodded. It wasn't his fault, not really. Maybe she'd be like him, if she were older. She couldn't know for sure, but maybe if her husband had jumped off a building, and demons hunted her down, searching for the only bloodline she had left, maybe she wouldn't be so different from him.

  But it wasn't like she'd been a kid for long. She wasn't even given the time to grow up. It just sort of happened, because it had to.

  Dad sighed and laid back on the bed, his hand tucked under the back of his head. "Just don't tell them anything. I don't trust them." He peeked over his arm at Emma, and then slipped back on the pillow, his eyes closed.

  Idiot girl. Emma's chest hurt. She swore to herself, wishing she'd have kept her big mouth shut. She wasn't always very good at that.

  Her father lay there for a few minutes, the sky outside growing dark, and she couldn't hold still any longer. She bounced off her bed and hopped onto his mattress. She wrapped her arm around his chest and kissed his cheek.

  "I love you, Daddy. No matter what."

  Dad opened his eyes and smiled. "I know, baby doll. Love you, too. To the moon and back." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Now get some sleep."

  Night slowly fell over the compound and sleep came uneasily when it finally arrived. The nightmares sounded as darkness fell, squawks and dissonant cries, and echoing growls. Far off at first and then nearer, like demons walked the walls and called out to Emma before retreating back into the trees.

  She curled up next to her father and together they waited out the din of shouting and gunfire, neither of them saying a word. Emma's stomach churned, and she almost wished she hadn't eaten, a sour nausea settling in the back of her throat.

  Finally an awkward silence spread over the compound, and she began to drift off, her lids growing heavy. She felt the comfortable presence of Dad's arm around her, his steady breathing next to her.

  Her eyes closed and she hoped, before slumber overcame her, that she wouldn't remember her dreams.

  ▪▪▪

  A rumbling sound startled Ren awake and he let out a sigh as he realized it was his own stomach. He blinked away the fog and glanced towards the window. There was no sunlight, the sky through the portal the shiftless gray just before dawn. Wincing as he stretched, he looked over at the other bed, relieved to see Emma's sleeping form under the blanket. Sometime in the night, she'd slipped into her own bed.

  He slid his legs off the bed and stood, untying the sling at his shoulder. He arched his back and twisted his torso, stifling a gasp at the wrenching ache of his body. His legs still felt like they'd outright refuse a sprint, his ribs so sore that every breath was tinged with hundreds of tiny needles that prickled his lungs. He could only hope the rawness would slip away as the day wore on, and he moved around.

  Ren pulled his boots on as quietly as he could, his motions slow and deliberate. Not only because he wanted to let Em sleep a while longer, but because putting boots on with a half-dead arm was a painful chore that he didn't exactly relish. Every tug of the laces brought a fresh grimace to his face.

  But he needed to get out, if even for just a short while. He had no real idea where he was, and he'd been on his own for so long, just him and Emma, that this place felt almost foreign. This old plant had become a home to these people, and he needed to know what this place was, and who they were. And, if necessary, how to get out.

  Especially after meeting Kevin. Anne Chen, or even an angel, only made up so much ground there.

  Ren crept past Emma's bed and let himself out, wincing as the door clicked shut. He paused and took in the sights of the compound again, at least what he could see of it, amazed that someone had actually made a home for themselves in such an odd place.

  A gentle fog rolled off the river to the east, blanketing the shore on the other side, on what used to be Illinois. But those lines of demarcation didn't exist anymore. They had been replaced by chaos and starvation, blood and fear. By running and running, until that's all he knew.

  The mist obscured the swath of trees to the north, hanging just off the earthen embankment. A man stood on top of the squat building across the yard, a lantern gleaming from the rail. Ren looked way, afraid of the shapes he might see playing within the mist.

  "Morning."

  Shit. Ren's heart skipped, and he spun to his right, the breath caught in his throat. A woman stood off to the side of the building's door, leaning back against the dull gray of masonry. The dim light of the coming dawn revealed the hard lines of her face, one corner of her lips raised in a mocking smile, a dark shock of short hair clinging to her head in lazy curls. She wore beige canvas pants, pockets running down the legs. Wiry arms crossed the chest of her black tank top, a tattoo of an eagle's head on one shoulder.

  "Morning," he said. He let out a low sigh at the glittering chain he spotted around her neck. It might be a regular old necklace, maybe a cross or a keepsake hanging from the end, but now he'd never look at them the same. "Scared the shit out of me." He clamped his lips shut when he heard the nervous twitch in his own voice.

  The woman nodded. Ren thought her eyes flashed, that her smile got just a little brighter, like maybe she'd enjoyed that admission just a little too much.

  "So, you're the guy they brought in the other night, all beat to hell. Kid too, right?"

  "Yep, that's me." Sounded like him, didn't it? Just another victim, another coward, always looking to run instead of stand. Scared and nervous, the definition that he couldn't ignore in his daughter's eyes whenever she looked at him.

  He wanted to run now, too. He could feel it in his gut, the uneasy twitch of his nerves as the woman looked at him, as the mist swirled over the river, dark limbs of shadow intertwining, seemingly reaching out for him. If Emma had been out here, he might have. Instead he swallowed against the tingle in the back of his throat and leaned forward, one hand gripping the railing, the rusted metal cool to the touch.

  "Seems like you're gettin' around okay, all things considered, so that's good." The woman took a couple of steps forward and leaned over the railing, standing an arm's-length from Ren. Her pendant slipped loose of her shirt, a silver filigree circle, and she hastily tucked it back under the neckline. "Not that you oughtta go running around just yet."

  Ren's eyes flitted to the chain that dangled from her neck. Just another reminder that he wasn't going anywhere, not yet.

  He thrust a hand out. Maybe he'd get better luck with her than he had Kevin. "Name's Ren."

  "That's what I heard," the woman said with a sideways nod. She took his hand in a firm grip and shook it. "Rachel."

  Ren released Rachel's hand and looked out over the quiet compound, at the winding roads and piles of dirt and limestone that stood vigil before the earthen walls. The man standing guard shielded his eyes with one hand as the sun finally broke the horizon, its rays piercing the fog over the river. It was almost peaceful.

  "So, what did you do to get to wear that around your neck?"

  Rachel looked down over the railing and chuckled. "Well, you know how the story goes. I tell ya, I'd have to kill ya."

  Ren's grin almost felt sincere. "Fair enough." He couldn't be sure, but he thought he almost liked Rachel. "And how many of you have them?"


  Almost.

  Rachel leaned back and sighed, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the railing. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing out here, Ren?"

  The low, churning growl of Ren's stomach answered for him. He patted his belly. "Actually, I was just hoping to get some food for me and Emma." Not completely true, but close enough.

  Rachel slapped the metal rail with one hand and stepped away. "Alright then, let's go get you some food."

  She motioned with her forefinger and walked down the ramp, her boots crunching on the sand. Ren took it slow, following a few steps behind, but he was finally able to get a better view of the old cement plant as they crossed into the open.

  The southwest yard was dominated by a large building, a tower at the east and west corner, connected by railed pipes. Broken and cracked windows lined the second and third stories, debris scattered on the ground underneath. Ren caught movement on the roof, and as he watched, a kneeling figure scanned the north and east, a pair of binoculars in one hand, a rifle in the other. To the south, a series of structures had been chained together by the same intricate layers of piping and catwalks, ending in a square of tall silos to the southwest. Dust, rock and sand was everywhere, like a coat of paint that had spoiled and flaked off.

  Rachel stopped and pointed towards a medium-sized building, standing roughly in-between Ren's makeshift home and the massive dome to the west. "That's the BX. We got some inventory still: boots, clothes, blankets. Your basic general store."

  She swung her arm slightly to the south, towards a much smaller structure. "Kitchen's there. Canned food, boxes, some chicken, and as much fish as we can keep."

  Ren nodded, then pointed towards the dome. "And that?"

  Rachel stared at him, her brow raised, before shaking her head. "Not sure you're ready for that just yet."

  He opened his mouth, another question on his tongue, but a hesitant voice behind him cut off the thought.

  "Dad?"

  Ren turned around, her voice surprising him. Emma stood on the landing. She flashed him a quick smile, but Ren caught the nervous energy behind it. Her gaze darted to the ground, and she swallowed. Something was wrong.

  "Morning, honey," Ren said. He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers for Emma to join him. "I was just talking to Rachel here. You hungry? I was just going to get us some breakfast."

  Emma shook her head. Her lips quivered, and her eyes flitted from him to the mix of salt and limestone in front of her.

  "Em? What is it?" Ren felt the first ragged edge of panic, rising like the crest of a wave.

  "What's wrong with her?" Rachel asked. Her eyes narrowed.

  "Emma, baby doll, come here." Ren moved towards the landing. Please, not here, he thought.

  Emma stepped back away from the landing, her hand shaking on the rail. Her eyes were wide now, like she was a cornered animal, unsure where to go or how to escape. "Stay away."

  Ren took another step, his hands out in front. "It's okay, Em—"

  "Stay back!"

  Her shrill cry cut into the air, followed by an uncomfortable, tense silence. Ren let out a low breath as the guard called down over the ledge of the squat building. A shout sounded behind him. Don't. Not now.

  Ren felt the sudden stillness, like the moment before Katie stepped off that ledge so long ago. Before she disappeared and the new world crushed him under its weight, and he was powerless to stop the overwhelming pull of gravity. And then the moment after, when he'd just stood there, blinking, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened.

  Please.

  A flock of birds interrupted the silence, bursting from the nearby treetops and weaving into the sky. Ren watched as they ducked and then flew overhead, darting towards the west before settling on the rails of a catwalk that ran between the towers.

  Ren heard a wet thump, and Emma shrieked. The breath stuck in his throat.

  A bird lay at her feet, red spattered over its black feathers. Its wings twitched, one stretching out like it ached to touch Emma's foot. She stood still, one hand over her mouth, her gaze frozen on the twitching bird.

  The eye of the bird stared at Ren, and his heart shuddered. He knew with a gnawing certainty that something else looked out at him from that dead eye, mocking him, and he felt the hair on his arms stand on end. Fear clawed at him.

  Whatever it was, it knew him. And it wanted his daughter.

  A firm hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Ren winced at the resurgent tide of pain that shot through his neck. Kevin's low voice sounded in his ear. "Bring her here. Bring her here right now."

  No. They couldn't have her. She belonged with him. It wasn't her fault. It was a mistake to stay here, he knew. They had to leave before it was too late.

  "No."

  He jerked away from the big man's grip, biting his lip against the pain, and ran towards Emma. Rachel called out, her voice faint and tinny in his ears. The bird's eye followed him, taunting him as he sprinted for the landing and his daughter. Blood pounded in his ears, like the ocean's waves.

  You're too late, the smirking eye said. You've always been too late.

  Ren's foot caught a jutting stone and he nearly fell, a sharp crack running through his ears. The world spun for an instant and something hard thrust the oxygen from his lungs. He dully realized he had ended up on his back, his hand digging into sand and rock. He gasped for air, coughing and spluttering as he finally took a heaving breath.

  He shook his head and sat up. He looked for the landing, for his daughter. Instead his eyes found a gleaming giant, clad in a shining breastplate. Symbols ran along the seams and edges of the man's armor, shifting and changing as Ren focused on them. Massive feathered wings fluttered over the giant's shoulders. He held a spear, easily twice the height of a man. The point shone so brightly that Ren had to shield his eyes with his hand.

  Ren couldn't breathe, his mind racing, shouting at him to turn back, to run as fast as he could. His feet wouldn't move.

  Ithuriel. The Spear.

  "Who are you, son of man," Ithuriel said, his voice like the hammer of a thunderclap. His gaze shifted to Emma, his eyes cold and demanding. "And why have you brought this creature into our midst?"

  Creature? Ren got to one knee and nearly lost his balance, throwing his hand out to catch himself. He tried to look up at the towering angel and had to turn his head to avoid the glare from the blinding point of the spear.

  "I-I don't understand. That's my daughter."

  The angel's wings shimmered in the morning light. He peered down at Emma, then shifted his piercing gaze back towards Ren. Ithuriel's features softened as he lowered the spear. He crouched in front of Ren. "I do see your humanity in her, yes," he said. "But I also see the blood of the Grigori flowing through this child's veins."

  "Wait, what?" Ren stammered.

  "Well, not quite what I expected, but it makes sense." Kevin stepped into Ren's field of vision. His hand clutched the pendant at his neck. "Sorry, Ren. Looks like you weren’t the problem after all."

  EPISODE TWO

  The voices in Emma's head thrashed and roiled when the...when the angel crashed down to Earth in front of her, and she clenched her legs against the sudden urge to pee. She felt sick, bile crawling up her throat, and she swallowed, her feet rooted to the spot.

  Odisse Malakhi, a voice hissed, boiling over with anger and fear both. Hate them. Profugere, Grigori.

  Occidite, another whispered, the word burning into her mind. Kill it. Occidite!

  Emma tried to understand the words swimming in her head, more thoughts and voices whisking by like leaves in a strong fall wind. Warmth flushed her cheeks and seeped down her neck.

  She remembered how sometimes her mom would walk into her room, and she could just tell something had gone wrong in Mom's head. The smells that made her wrinkle her nose for a moment and then were gone. Or the ice that trickled down her arms and legs when Mom had touched her or looked at her and the light just caught her face all wrong.
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br />   This felt sort of like that had. She couldn't explain it, not really, but she knew.

  Emma wondered if she would get sick like her mom had. Maybe she already was, and it would only get worse from here. Wondered if she'd have to...if she'd have to...jump. Emma didn't think that she could do it, even if she had to.

  She looked down. The dead bird's eyes stared into hers.

  Run, run, the bird said. Only, the bird's beak never moved. And birds couldn't talk, not really, and the idea scared her even more. Run away, hide, before Malakhi sees!

  Malakhi. Emma understood the word, and she understood the fear of it.

  She peered up at the angel's wings, wondering if he could fly without them, then wondering why she would even think that. His spear shone like a miniature sun, its light so bright that she wanted to scrunch her eyes closed. Only, she couldn't.

  The angel–no, Malakhi–turned and glared at her, like he could see the voices fighting inside her head. And his intentions were as clear as his eyes. He didn't like the voices, didn't like the things they said.

  But neither did Emma. She stared back at him and swore that she didn't like them either, and that was the truth. She thought it as hard as she could, through the voices, and the hissed whispers.

  She promised she didn't like them, and then her head started pounding. She tried to lift her hands to squeeze both sides of her head to make it stop, but her hands wouldn't move.

  Odium amare. Odisse. Amare. The thoughts swirling in her mind, washing over her. Love hate. Hate. Love. Over and over, circling like vultures, calling down to her.

  No, please stop.

  "Who are you, son of man," the angel said, his voice like rolling thunder in Emma's ears. His gaze shifted to Emma, his eyes boring into her. "And why have you brought this creature into our midst?"

  Something wet trickled down her chin and dripped down her arm. She couldn't remember ever being so scared, not after Mom, not even when the demons had finally found her.

  Stop looking at me. Stop looking.

  Prohibere vultus ad me, another voice cried, the mocking echo ringing in her ears, and Emma flinched.