by Travis Bughi
“But no one did that for me or your father, and when I returned the next year, he didn’t hesitate to whisk me away. I felt guilty for leaving my mother without ever saying a word, but I knew I had to. If I told her where I was going or why I’d gone, she’d come find me and drag me back home. She was never easy to say no to. She was a harsher woman in those days. I think my leaving helped soften her.”
“We had Abe soon after, Emily two years later,” Paul steered the story back, “and then my parents passed away around the time you were born, Nicholas. It was hard on Abe, being just old enough to understand the idea of losing someone forever, so we rarely brought them up. The rest of the story, I believe you all know already.”
“All in all,” Mariam finished, “not as exciting as how Emily and Takeo met.”
Everyone had a laugh at that, and sometime in the late night, sleep came upon the group again. It was then that Emily dreamed of the colossus and saw Lucifan through stone eyes.
She had been wrong about having a week to spend with family. The quiet life of protection and monotony hadn’t even begun, yet it was about to end. Violence and revenge were calling once more, and she would answer.
She owed a long dead angel the death of another.
Chapter 23
Emily made an effort to stay one more day. It meant as much to her as it did for her parents. She needed this time of serenity, of peace, of stability—something she’d had for all her life growing up, something she’d taken for granted, tossing it aside for something new and exciting. She’d traded it all for a life of adventure, and now here she was, treasuring the quiet moments when breathing came without effort. The fragments of her life when she did not fear that the next day would rise without her were like a long awaited dream. A part of her longed to see the end of this tumultuous future—the day she might outlive the dangerous path she felt compelled to walk.
She dared to hope that one day she and Takeo could talk about ‘the rest of their lives.’
A memory floated to her mind that morning and stayed with her throughout. She remembered being in this house once before, speaking with Mariam and Chara, making the decision to become an amazon. She could still recall those words.
“I still think you’re too young,” Mariam had said. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for; the jungle is a dangerous place, and amazon life is harsh in order to survive it.”
“I understand things will be difficult,” Emily had replied, “but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try.”
Would she still say that now? If she had the chance to go back and do it over, knowing the full weight of her decision, would she still say those words?
Equal answers of yes and no came to mind, but she dashed them without consideration. One look at Takeo was enough to say it was worth it, but the other part of her said it was a worthless thought altogether. The past was stone, immortal in the truest sense of the word. She could not fight it and would not waste the energy trying.
Yet still the memory lingered, and when she parted from her parents, she did so with a confession.
“It should have taken me longer to leave you,” Emily said to them. “I should never have seen this place as a prison. It was always a sanctuary.”
“Don’t be upset, Daughter.” Mariam held her close. “It was my fault. I was always determined to protect you, but never told you from what. I just hope you see that I only wanted the best for you.”
“I know,” Emily whispered back. “I never thought otherwise. I love you, and I’ll see you again as soon as I can.”
“I know you will, and I look forward to it.”
Mariam planted a kiss on Emily’s forehead, and Emily shook her head for a second in surprise. Her mother had never shown such affection before. She sure had changed a lot in the past couple of years.
Of course, so had all of them.
They left as they had come, in a group, anxious for what was to come. It was a bittersweet parting—their visit long enough to feel fulfilling, but short enough to leave a hunger for more. Emily knew she’d be back the moment she could, most likely on her way to the Forest of Angor to deliver Belen the promised letters. They had seen more of the world than most people ever did, and it was high time they were delivered.
First, though, the Great Plains decided to remind Emily of what she’d left behind.
It was hardly midday when they ran into a herd of roaming behemoths. Twenty in all, they shook the ground as they walked, flattening the yellow grass and sending tiny tremors across several hills to where Emily and her companions watched in awe. Takeo and Fritjof were the most enraptured, having never seen nor heard of such creatures.
With four legs supporting massive bodies as big as a barn, they were slow moving. Their hide was too thick to be pierced by anything of human make, yet their most impressive feature was the massive horn sprouting from their nose as tall as a man. The horn was often so big that the behemoths had to shake their heads from side to side as they walked just so they could see the path before them. Meanwhile, behind them, a thick tale smashed the yellow grass to dust, leaving a clear path along where they’d come. They were magnificent creatures, making their yearly pilgrimage across the plains to breed. The weak would be culled, the strong would survive, and the inhabitants of the Great Plains would flourish from the death of so many massive creatures.
Then, as they watched the behemoths, a small group of four gnomes came walking past, claiming they were following the beasts, waiting for one to drop from exhaustion or fall prey to a thunderbird. Noticing Abe was a gunslinger, they asked him if he’d be so kind as to shoot one for them and then offered to take only a small portion and pay for it in a few coins and tobacco. Although bullets could not pierce a behemoth hide, the eyes were quite vulnerable, and gunslingers made most of their wealth from downing these massive beasts of the plains. Abe declined, though. He was already employed, he said, not wanting to be rude to the little, hairy humanoids. They still took offense, unfortunately, and spat on the ground as they left.
At the end of the day, as Lucifan approached, they spied one last display of the Great Plains’ magnificence. This time Emily forced the group to stop and grabbed Takeo by the hand to pull him close.
“There,” she said. “Do you see those clouds?”
It was impossible not to. The clouds were dark and thick, mimicking a tempest in intensity. Inside, the clouds flashed white with lightning. A moment later, the thunder washed over them so loud that it could be felt in their hearts.
“Yes,” Takeo replied. “Are you worried about rain?”
“That isn’t rain,” she said with a smile. “Those clouds are made by a thunderbird. Watch.”
There was a shriek, first, splitting the sky as the thunderbird launched out of the clouds on powerful, white-brown wings. Large as a behemoth, its yellow beak stood out almost as much as its pupil-less, pure-white eyes. Razor sharp talons hung beneath it, trailing clouds that formed miraculously about the creature. When its wings came together, a bolt of lightning flashed down to the ground, and thunder rolled over the group once more.
“That,” Takeo spoke as if in a trance, “is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”
“The most amazing, you say?” Emily teased.
Takeo realized too late what he’d said, and his stuttering afterwards gave the group a good laugh.
It seemed the only creature they wouldn’t see that day would be a banshee, and for that, Emily was thankful. They camped out on Lucifan’s basin rim that night, waiting for the morning’s light to guide them into the city.
Adelpha and Emily took watch, not because it was necessary, but because they sought the illusion of privacy. As the others slept, they sat side by side, overlooking the place they’d first met.
“I still remember how mean I was when I first met you,” Adelpha confessed. “It makes me feel guilty, how wrong I was. It really had a strong effect on me. I’ve tried to be less judgmental ever since.”
“Have you had any luck?”
“No,” Adelpha said, and they shared a laugh. “I find it difficult to trust people after, well, you know, my sister tried to kill me.”
“Let’s not talk about her.” Emily shook her head. “That banshee dominated too much of our time already. Her body is long dead by now, and I’m ready to bury her memory. Tell me something happy for once. Tell me things between you and my brother are wonderful.”
Adelpha, astonishingly, blushed.
“Things are wonderful,” she said. “They aren’t ideal. I only see him once a year since we are both strongly devoted to our families, but we’ve been making do so far. He’s going to be the father of my children. If it’s a girl, she’ll be raised by me. If it’s a son, I’ll bring him back from Themiscyra to be with his father. I don’t know how many children we’ll have, but I want at least one of each, which is actually funny. Growing up, I never wanted anything but daughters, as any amazon should, but I get so much pleasure from the thought of handing Abe a little him. I even imagine returning every year to see how much he’s grown—perhaps imparting some small wisdom on him. Abe says the same thing about the daughter we’ll hopefully have, too, but he knows that can’t happen. The trip from Themiscyra to Lucifan is too dangerous for babies and young children. Unfortunately, Abe will never see his daughters until they’re adults. He says he’ll try to make the trip to Themiscyra for them, but that’s just him being silly. He’ll have a son to watch, I’m sure, and even if he doesn’t, he need not worry. Nearly all women in Themiscyra grow up without knowing their fathers, and we all turn out just fine. Abe says that no matter what, though, he hopes all our children turn out like me. I guess that means he hopes they won’t be prone to crying.”
They shared another laugh, and Adelpha gave Emily a rough shove.
“Your turn, sister,” she said. “Tell me about this samurai. Make me forget he once tried to kill you.”
“Poor Takeo.” Emily tisked. “He’ll never live that down. I’m sure for all his days, everyone who knows about that will bring it up. I mean, it’s not that we talk about that kind of thing. While you and Abe seemed to have planned everything out, Takeo and I have yet to talk about our future, whether together or not. It’s like we’re both utterly convinced at least one of us is going to die, so we wordlessly agreed to never speak of false hopes and dreams.” She grimaced. “Damn it! Now I’m sad again.”
“Hey, well, if one of you does die, I hope it’s him and not you.”
“Adelpha!”
“Oh, sorry.” She shrugged. “That was mean, wasn’t it? I keep forgetting you love him now. I’m just being honest, though, and you know everyone here would agree with me.”
Emily fumed. She was so sick of having to defend Takeo. First Nicholas, who’d had no reason to dislike Takeo at all, had worn out her patience; then, in front of Gavin, she’d had to relive the ugly truth of how Takeo and her had met; then Adelpha and Abe; and then finally her own parents. What was simply a misunderstanding in her mind—a tragic reality of being born on opposite sides of the world—was instead viewed as some absolute by those around her. They seemed determined to let first impressions guide their thoughts, ignoring any opposing evidence, all in favor of keeping their view of the world static.
Emily thought it disgusting.
“None of you understand.” Emily sighed. “None of you saw. In Savara, Juatwa, Khaz Mal, and The North, Takeo protected me. He cares for me like no one has cared for me before, except Chara and Quartus. Don’t give me that offended stare, please? Just listen. I’m not talking about an amount here, like love is something you can count, I’m talking about how he cares for me. When Takeo met me, and when he sees me now, it’s not for the girl I was, but for the woman I will become. When I met him, I was still learning, growing, and maturing, and he understood where I was headed as so many others have not. You, Gavin, my mother—quite literally everyone except Chara, Quartus, and Takeo—made the mistake of thinking I was complete when they first met me. I killed every opponent I faced who made that mistake. Thankfully, you eventually overcame your ignorance, but not fully, as here you sit, still judging my decisions like you know better. My mother had to accept me for who I’d become eventually. She was forced to when I left her. As for Gavin, I left him heartbroken on Lucifan’s docks because he couldn’t grasp that I was beyond him. He still hasn’t recovered from that, which is just pathetic, honestly. I’ve lost so much respect for him, despite all the potential he had. I still hope he’ll find himself one day. But Takeo though? He knows—he understands—and I love him for it.”
“Emily, I—”
“I’m not done yet. You asked, so now you get to listen. You love Abe because he wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s open, sensitive, and as innocent as one can get in this world without being a fool. Meanwhile, you’re a judgmental queen with trust issues, so you love Abe because you know he’s incapable of lying to you. He couldn’t hide his feelings from you if he tried, and that makes you feel comfortable.
“Takeo, on the other hand, is a shadow. He grew up a samurai under the care of his older brother who saw the world as a place of horror only an equally horrible monster could survive. Takeo was taught that showing emotion—any emotion, mind you—is considered weak. Fear, anger, love, hate, respect, all of it is to be buried deep, but yet still he feels it. I’ve seen those emotions through his eyes and felt them when he holds me at night. You can’t read him so you don’t trust him, which I understand, but what I find infuriating is that you refuse to trust me. I say he’s great, he’s confident, and he’s to be loved like me, and yet you ignore my words.
“So hear these ones, and then speak no more of this. You say you’d rather Takeo die than me? You say everyone here would agree with you? Then know that you’re right, and Takeo is one of them, and he would do it gladly.”
Her speech came to a close, but her eyes were not finished. Emily stared unblinkingly into the big woman, daring her to defiance. Adelpha held the gaze, face placid, for only a few seconds before looking down. Only then did Emily blink and turn back to Lucifan.
For a time, silence stretched between them. At first Emily found it comforting, as if it were confirmation she’d reigned victorious in that discussion. Then it lingered into awkwardness, and then guilt, and then Emily wondered why she’d needed to defend Takeo’s honor by attacking Adelpha’s personality.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said finally. “I didn’t. . .”
She trailed off, unsure of what to say next.
“Don’t be,” Adelpha muttered. “Let’s just forget about it. I’m tired.”
Emily was, too, but didn’t say so out loud.
They slept well enough. Emily dreamed of the colossus kneeling beneath the waters of Lucifan’s bay, looking up at the dark outlines of ships that blocked out the moon’s light. They seemed so small and fragile to her stone eyes, like delicate floating flowers, just begging to be pulled under.
Emily used to be afraid of the water, back when she didn’t know how to float. She’d seen so much of the ocean’s depths now, though, as a colossus, that she had trouble remembering how terrifying it’d been when she’d almost drowned. There hadn’t been much time to appreciate the ocean’s inner beauty when she’d been gasping for air, but as a colossus, she could appreciate the world from a merfolk’s view.
Merfolk, now that brought a pleasant dream. The last of her dream was spent reminiscing about the beautiful people and their well-defined bodies at the peak of athleticism. Only angels were more beautiful.
And then the sun was up, her companions were up, and so was she. Before them lay Lucifan, glowing in the rising light that danced across the water and illuminated the grey stone buildings. The light heralded another day, but to Emily it heralded a whirlwind, too.
Sunlight was the enemy of vampires, and today, Emily would personify the sun.
Chapter 24
Early that morning, they entered Lucifan with the crowds who seemed to no
tice nothing out of place as they entered Lucifan, eager to barter and trade for everything they could not make or find on the Great Plains. Emily tried her best to ignore the stone ruins outside the city, but failed. However, rather than bringing her sorrow, it brought her rage.
She picked up her pace and felt her fingers twitch for her knife.
“Where would Mark be?” Emily asked Abe.
“How should I know?” He shrugged. “I don’t keep track of Lucifan’s inner workings.”
“Yes, but you visit the most.”
“That doesn’t mean I know where everyone is. Mark is a vampire. He never comes out in the day like I do.”
They checked the angels’ tower first—a huge, towering structure that stood above all of Lucifan. Emily felt chills run down her spine as she approached it. She remembered coming here once before with two minotaurs, a squad of fully armored knights, and intentions of killing a vampire. Only the last of the three still applied.
The two big, metal doors were slammed shut, closing the building off, while two ogres stood vigilant outside. A line was already starting to form in front of the doors: a few leprechauns, some suit-wearing humans, a lone minotaur, three other ogres who Emily assumed were here to be recruited, and a viking who looked more furious and violent than the ogres he stood behind.
“Come on!” the viking yelled, so loud Emily could hear him over the morning’s clamor. “Open it up, already!”
The ogres grumbled and snorted, yellow eyes looking at the passing crowd that flowed along the street. The viking, a man with a large beard and a gut that hung out past his chest, shuffled at being ignored.
“You got snow in your purple ears, ugly?” he yelled. “I said to open it up!”
“Human must wait,” the ogre on the left grumbled. “Not time.”
“How do you know what time it is!” the viking yelled back. “Stupid, ugly ogre. You don’t even know how many fingers you have.”
