“I like wishing too,” Lucien continued. He wasn't about to let his voice waver. “I wish our things weren't on fire.”
“On the other hand, we'd have to pretend to be human. Also, don't know how long we'd have to keep that up.”
“I don't know why I like wishing. It's sort of silly, isn't it? Our things are still on fire.”
“No,” Lalael said vehemently. “It isn't silly! They wanted to kill us, didn't you see? I told you, Lucien.”
“Hm? Were you saying something?”
Lalael bristled. “I was saying that pretending to be human isn't silly if it will get us – oh, I don't know – not killed?”
“Oh. Why would we do that? I was talking about wishes.”
“Lucien, focus! How are we going to survive?”
“I want to make a wish,” Lucien declared suddenly, standing with an awkward flail of wings. “I'll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” demanded the angel.
“I'm going to fly over the moon's road. Maybe then our things won't be on fire.” He was surprised at how deeply the idea unsettled him.
“It won't work. It moves. You'll be over the horizon.”
“But that moves too.”
“And you'll fly forever before you can make your wish.”
Lucien shrugged. “I'll go down to the Pier and see if I can scrounge up a fishing net, then. We'll catch a lot of fish and then sell them for a place where things are not on fire.”
“But you said the sea was poisoned.”
“Only near the coast. I'll fly past it. Want to come?”
“No. 'Don't fly in the dark,' they used to tell us.”
“Proverbs,” Lucien said, shaking his head. “The humans say 'Look before you leap', but sometimes you have to leap and look at the same time. Like just now. When there's fire. I'll be back.”
He was gone in a wingbeat, and Lalael watched the shadow fly towards the moon and over the black sea. Antichrist twined around Lalael's ankles and meowed.
“Yes, of course he'll bring you fish.” Lalael shifted, stretched his legs out, and lifted the cat into his lap.
Purr, rub.
“I know,” Lalael sighed, leaning back on his elbows in the grass. “Eventually, maybe, but it won't be fine for a long while.”
Antichrist walked up his chest and stared into his eyes.
“Lies,” replied Lalael. “You don't know what you're saying.”
The cat waited patiently, but Lalael didn't know what it wanted. When he didn't figure it out, the cat bit his hand.
“Ow! Danama!” He didn't care about swearing the Earth way anymore. Lalael pushed the cat off and glared. Antichrist sneezed at him and stalked away into the dark. “Oh yeah?” Lalael hissed after him. “Well, same to you, devilspawn!”
***
Lalael awoke when Lucien dropped to the ground with a thud.
“Told you it was impossible,” he said to the panting heap of limbs and wings.
“Wasn't. Just like in supermarkets when you walk over the reflections of the lights on the floor. But it took longer. A lot longer.”
Lalael looked at him blearily. “I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about,” he said.
“I brought a net of fish.”
“One of them is for your damn cat.”
Lucien nodded.
“And the rest are for bartering our shelter.”
“I already did.”
“Already did what?”
“Bought our safety. The people in the harbor have been sailing out past the red tide, they have fish and rainwater aplenty. They told me they've had trouble with people catching weird diseases – you know, fevers, thrashing, seizures...”
“Possessions.”
“Bingo. I told them I know how to cure it, and they offered me a boat to live on. I told you they'd form tribes. Sailors against the food-stealing landlubbers, you know.” Lalael opened his eyes and stared at Lucien. “Don't you like boats?”
“We have to go in disguise. No wings, at all. Not even at night when we think everyone's asleep.”
“Right. And no bright firelight or moonlight. We'll just keep our skin and hair covered and turn our faces away. We can do it.”
“For how long?”
“As long as we need to,” Lucien shrugged. “Now come along, Lael, they're expecting us.”
Lalael groaned and sat up. “What time is it?”
“According to the watchman, it was four in the morning.” Lucien pointed towards the eastern sky, which was just beginning to turn gray. “And the end of his watch.”
“Why?” Lalael yawned, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“So the marina doesn't get raided, I suppose. The whole harbor has bonded together for this, you know! The entire waterfront! Incredible, aren't they, the humans?” Lucien bent down to pick up Antichrist, who had appeared out of nowhere, as was his wont.
“Astounding,” the angel grumbled. “Let's go.”
Lucien spoke as they walked through the park towards the harbor. “The watchman let me in and sent me to someone down on the dock, who took me up to their headquarters, the good ship Amazing Grace.” Lalael mumbled an acknowledgement. “Apparently, they have someone on call there all the time, and that's where they've been keeping the possessed people.”
“Mm,” said Lalael with another jaw-splitting yawn.
“So I fixed up a few of them – in private, of course, with all the hatches covered – and everyone (the nice lady on the Amazing Grace, and the kid who'd taken me down to the boat, and the watchman) agreed that the Captain would certainly let us stay.” Lucien smiled proudly. “Probably,” he added.
Lalael glared at him. “What do you mean probably?”
“Well,” Lucien drew the word out into three syllables, “technically we're outsiders, so it's only natural that they'd want their leader to approve of us, but unfortunately he wasn't awake yet, and no one wanted to disturb him. So they sent me to get you, and we'll meet him after breakfast.”
“Just lovely,” Lalael grumbled. “I hate mornings.”
“I shouldn't worry, 'Lael. They've definitely got a serious demon problem on the waterfront. We won't lack for work.”
“How do you know?” he asked. “Did you see any?”
“Well,” Lucien began.
“How many?”
“They're running around in the shadows in... well, herds.”
“Herds?” Lalael demanded. “Herds! I have to live in a Síela-forsaken hellhole of a harbor while imps run about like rats.”
“Yeah,” Lucien said with a thin laugh. “Pretty much. It's all imps and souleaters, yes.”
“Really?” Lalael narrowed his eyes. “All imps and souleaters?”
“Oh yes.” Lucien coughed, “Mostly.”
“There's something else there. What is it?”
“There might be a few others. Worse ones. I didn't see them.”
“You know they're there. What are they?”
“Nothing serious. A few spider-frogs, perhaps.”
“That's it?” Lalael frowned, peering at his companion. “No. That's not all. There's others.”
Lucien hesitated for a moment. “I'm pretty sure there's at least two Naga.”
“Which are?”
“Human-headed snake. There were some on the battlefield.”
“Oh. Those.” Lalael shuddered. “They smelt like...”
“Yes. And there might possibly be a goblin, but I can't be sure about that. No worries, though. At least not an oni.”
Lalael didn't say anything, but a distinct sensation of Ignoring You now filled the air.
“Hey, there's humans enough along the waterfront. We have the power of numbers. At least... until the demons start breeding.” Lucien paused, then his eyes lit up. “Then the world will be overrun with them and we'll all die!”
Sometimes, Lalael thought to himself, he really wanted to strangle Lucien.
***
Th
ey arrived at the waterfront in good time for breakfast – Lucien introduced himself to the watchmen at the gate, and they were allowed inside with instructions to go down to the Amazing Grace, and did Lucien remember where it was?
Lucien was fairly sure he did, so they clomped down the boardwalk and clattered down a steel ramp to the docks. Lalael watched as they walked, peering around corners and into nooks – anywhere a small animal could hide. He saw nothing and snorted. Herds indeed; Lucien had just been exaggerating after all. He focused instead on the marina: the spires of the masts rising into the gray of the pre-dawn sky, the stays clanging against them and whistling in the breeze, the slap of the waves against the hulls, the creaking of the docklines and the groans of the fenders as the vessels shifted.
The Amazing Grace was one of those large, boxy powerboats that rich hobby-fisherman-types love so dearly. She was painted blue and green and shiny-bright white, and her name was written in delicate, elegant gold scrollwork across her stern. Lucien was obviously rather enamored of this boat – or perhaps it was boats in general, Lalael reflected as the Fallen bent and rapped politely against the hull. A muffled acknowledgement, and Lucien was hopping nimbly over the rail as if he had been doing it all his life. Lalael handed over their bags and followed, somewhat less agile: It involved more of a step and an awkward hop while clinging to anything that looked stable, but the boat swayed alarmingly under him all the same.
Lalael could have sworn it was about to tip over, and he did not like it at all, but he stumbled after Lucien, who had obviously not noticed the peril they were in. Also obvious was what an embarrassment his companion was – Lucien had just greeted the two humans that had appeared from below deck with an intensely gleeful, “Ahoy, sailors,” and a charming grin that expressed his absolute, sheer relish at the situation he was currently in. They – the humans – guffawed.
Lalael gritted his teeth. People didn't actually say ahoy, he was sure.
“Hi,” said the man, “you're the guy who turned up last night?”
“Yes, yes,” Lucien answered, then added, with a beguiling glance at the woman from under the fringe of his curls, “Avast.”
Lalael again wanted to strangle him, but he settled for staring at the floor – the deck? – in abject mortification.
The woman giggled. Lucien apparently didn't know she was giggling at him. “You know,” she said, “Actually, we don't say that.”
“Oh.” Lucien's face fell.
“That's alright, though,” said the man. “We're Eric and Ann.”
“Actually, he's Ann,” the woman added. “I'm Eric.”
Lalael stared at them. “Truly?” he asked.
Ann – the man – nodded, solemn and serious, then burst out laughing. Oh. It was a joke. The woman was Ann after all. Lalael added a few more points onto his embarrassment tally.
He saw any wariness in Lucien's stance drain away as he smiled. “I'm Lucien,” he said, “and this is Lal– er.” The humans, still giggling, didn't notice the slip. “Laurence,” Lucien inserted smoothly. “This is my buddy Laurie.” He clapped Lalael heartily on the back.
Lalael was not amused. “We're looking,” he snarled, “for whoever's in charge around here.”
The woman, although taken aback by Lalael's sudden venom, nodded. “Actually, he's just left.”
Lucien sighed. “For where?”
***
The elected leader of the marina, one Captain Joe, was a decidedly salty character. As is sacred tradition with such men of the sea, Captain Joe was known for his eloquent, rambling tales as much as he was for his weather-worn plaid cap and his prodigious iron-gray beard, which bushed over his chest and bristled around his face like the snowcap on a mountain. In his own words, he was a proper Swedish mariner, and, if his newfound status said anything, the people who had elected him agreed with this declaration. He had served in a War that he left unspecified (on purpose, Lucien suspected), he had lived on the water since the old days when he had worked the fishing ships off the Scandinavian coasts, and he related all this to Lucien and Lalael in a loud, thickly accented voice that was punctuated every few sentences with a sudden silence, during which he redefined self-absorbed tranquility while he groomed his moustaches out of and away from his mouth with a meditative air that would have put a Tibetan monk to shame.
“So,” he said at the end of one of these silences, combing his fingers through his beard a final time. “You want to stay here.”
“If we could, sir,” Lalael said.
“Captain,” said the captain.
“Yes sir. Captain. Sir.”
“We know how to cure that disease that's been going around,” Lucien cut in.
Captain Joe's glittering blue eyes locked on Lucien. “Oh, do you? And you prove that, ja?”
“Actually, he did,” said Ann. “Sea Eagle and Green Flash's people both were happy and healthy this morning.” Eric nodded too.
Captain Joe looked back and forth between Lalael and Lucien. “I believe you,” he said, “but I don't think that's all there is.”
His eyes were far too sharp, Lucien reflected. He shrugged. “It never is, is it?” He met Captain Joe's sharp, sharp eyes and held his scrutiny. Lalael held his breath.
After a long, intense silence, Captain Joe broke eye contact and picked at his bristling moustache. Lucien sat back with a small smile and nodded once. “I like you,” Captain Joe said, then fixed on Lalael. “I don't know if I like you. You don't talk.”
“He's not very sociable,” Lucien said, eyes wide and sorrowful. “He hasn't been much since our parents died in a horrible fire –”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, yes,” Lucien acquiesced.
Captain Joe leaned forward. “So do you know what causes this disease?”
Lalael was sure he was the only one who had noticed the split-second hesitation before Lucien nodded. “We can help cut back on the infections as well,” Lalael added.
Captain Joe was fingering his beard again. “You can stay, as long as you're pulling your own veight.”
“We wouldn't think of doing anything but, captain sir.”
“Captain Sir,” the captain chuckled to himself.
Lucien paused. “Have you seen anything around the marina?” he asked all at once. “Near the shore? Anything... out of the ordinary?”
“Mmhn,” said Captain Joe.
Lucien sighed. “They never do,” he said to Lalael. “Oh, by the way: Captain Joe, sir, are there any boats without people?”
“Several,” said Captain Joe.
Lucien's face lit up and he asked breathlessly, “Can I have one?”
***
“She's gorgeous,” Lucien whispered, eyes gleaming unnaturally in the light of the neighbors' mosquito torch as he admired her.
“It's not. No more than any of the other ones we've been looking at all day, and this was the first one we saw!”
“Don't call her an 'it'! Do you want to hurt her feelings? How offensive is that?” Lucien sniffed at his companion and stepped aboard. “And I had to decide which I liked.”
“You liked all of them!”
“Yes, but it's like when you're at a dance club,” Lucien said, stroking the boat's helm with reverence, “and there's so many people around, and all of them are so pretty, and the lights are so colorful and flashy that you can't even tell women from men, let alone who you want to flirt with.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about when you go on about things like that,” Lalael grumbled as he scrambled after Lucien. That the sun had set hours ago and the only light was the torch did not help his nerves. The water lapped against the hull. “Because I've clearly been to a million of these – these dance clubs.” He picked at his nails and waited for Lucien to stop gushing over his new toy. “Are you going to rename it?”
“Her. And no, why would I do that?” He walked over the deck, twined his arms around the aft mast, and canoodled it. “Frog is a good name for a boat. It makes mor
e sense than something stupid like Rock Bottom.” That had been one of the other boats they'd perused. He snorted. “Really stupid name. It's got Bad Omen written all over it. At least frogs don't sink. Besides, she's green. It fits.” He dropped a quick kiss on the mast and scrambled onto the dock again. “You coming?”
“Where now?” Lalael groaned.
Lucien patted the dagger sheath at his hip. “Hunting Naga.”
***
They spent several hours searching for burrow holes under the docks and near the water.
“I don't like this,” Lalael whispered. “I can't hear anything but the water.” And he couldn't see anything. It had gotten dark very quickly, very early, and Lucien hadn't wanted to bring torches.
“That's a good thing,” Lucien murmured back. “If you hear anything scratchy or hissing, that would be bad.”
“Why?”
“Well, the scratching would be their scales moving along the ground. And that would mean it's found us, rather than we've found it. They're fast, they're deadly, and they're beasts – third caste. They're not hives; they're loners.”
“And that's bad?” Lalael squeaked as a rock, displaced by his foot, clattered into the water. They froze, and when all was silent, continued picking their way through the concrete blocks at the waterline.
“It's really bad. Their minds are too set to make them think anything more coherent than 'eat kill eat hate kill'.” Lucien stopped for a moment and tilted his head.
“What do you hear?”
Lucien shook his head and stepped forward again. “And Naga can't speak either, even though they've got human heads. It's really disturbing.” He stopped, turned to Lalael and illustrated with his hands as he said, “One time, I was meandering around the Wood of Suicides, right, just having a few laughs, hiding from a couple other Fallen who wanted my blood, and – no shit – if the Naga didn't rise right up from the ground right in front of me, just this pale, corpse-like head on a column of serpent, may I know the Prince Lightbringer's wrath.”
Lalael's eyes were huge, rapt, and terrified.
“I know,” Lucien nodded, “it may be the most unnerving thing I've ever seen. Except for that time –”
Lalael shook his head. “I don't want to know.”
In the End Page 11
