“You think you were meant to shoot things.”
“I think that if I was as good at that as I am at breathing that there might be other things I'm good at too,” Lalael snapped.
“But it's shooting things. With guns. Only humans have guns,” Lucien said reasonably. “There's probably a good reason why the Realms never adopted them.”
“Because clearly every decision the Two Realms ever made about how to run their fucking –”
“Lalael. That's how humans swear.”
Lalael took a breath. His voice went quiet and intense. “You're just like the rest of them. This isn't about what I'm good at, it's about me being good at anything. You're worried that I'm going to upstage you because you're used to being great at everything you do.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not great at everything.”
“Name one thing,” Lalael replied promptly. Lucien hesitated a second too long. “Exactly. My. Point. So don't you dare try this again, and I am appalled that you tried it at all just because you have some kind of random distrust towards a goddamn inanimate object. I am my own person, and I will control my life now, and if you have a problem with that, I'll spend the rest of eternity on the other side of the world.” Behind Lalael, the pile of twigs and kindling burst into flame with a loud snap.
They both ignored it.
Lucien held Lalael's glare for several long seconds. “So. No more trying to go back, then,” he said quietly.
Lalael didn't bat an eye. “I renounced Ríel the moment I put a bullet square through a demon's head with my eyes closed.”
Lucien nodded, carefully keeping his face blank. “Congratulations, then. Welcome to the free world.”
Neither of them said another word for the rest of the night.
***
Lalael watched Lucien brood for most of the next day: He sat on the ground at a little distance away from the overhang and didn't move from that spot for hours.
Lalael went foraging for food around noon and brought back a rabbit an hour or so later. Lucien didn't eat any of it. Lalael didn't know if he would have let Lucien have any of it even if he'd wanted some. He decided, after a length of time thinking about it harder than it perhaps warranted, that the best thing to do would have been to be passive-aggressive about it: First he would have said something about how he'd shot the rabbit, and then he would have pretended to be very concerned that Lucien would have moral objections to eating any food that didn't die a peaceful, quiet death surrounded by its family and friends.
Yeah. That would have been good.
He spent so much time devising precisely what he'd say that he almost regretted that Lucien didn't give him a chance to say it.
That night, he wrapped himself in his wings to sleep next to the fire – he couldn't remember adding any fuel to it, but it wasn't acting like it needed any – and looked up at the crisp, clear November sky and watched his breath cloud in the air above him.
***
In the morning, Lucien gathered up his things. “I'm going back.”
“And you thought I was the one going crazy.” Lalael was in the middle of building a screen out of branches, insulated with grasses and dead leaves, which would hopefully keep some of the cold out at night. He had had to add kindling this morning.
Lucien watched for a while, silent. “I'm not going to the marina. I'll find somewhere else. Opposite side of the city, I think.”
Lalael snorted. “Good luck with that. They won't have an ounce of food to spare. What are you planning on doing for them? Healing?” He snorted again. “Might not even be worth it to them.”
“Well, I don't have anything else,” Lucien said loudly. “Left the things we got out of the fire when I was saving you.”
“I don't know what you want me to do about it.”
“I don't.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
Silence.
Lalael went back to propping up branches against the overhang. “Good luck, then. You'll want to be off so you can find somewhere before nightfall.”
“Yeah,” Lucien said slowly. “I guess I'll... see you when I see you.”
“Yeah.” And even though it rubbed Lalael's feathers the wrong way to say it, “Thanks for all your help.”
“Don't mention it,” Lucien replied faintly.
***
Lucien flinched and held his hand up to block the light from the LED flashlight being shone into his eyes.
“Name,” the flashlight wielder demanded.
“Lu –” said Lucien, and then stopped. Word traveled fast, and the harbor might have alerted others. Now they might have better descriptions. And names.
“Short for Louis? Last name.”
Oh. Well, that was as good as any. “Like it's French, actually,” Lucien said, for the sake of realism. “No s sound. Lou-ee. Last name of – Flanahan.” What...?
“Let me see your eyes!”
“Why?”
“Let me see your eyes!” she bawled. Lucien lowered his hand and blinked rapidly, trying to look into the light.
“Ow,” he said.
She lowered the light and turned it off. “What's your business here?”
“I just got into town. I was with another group – out in the mountains – we were attacked a week ago.” He lowered his eyes. “I was the only one who made it.”
“Draw your knives.”
“Huh?”
“Let me see them!” Her hand strayed to her hip, as if she was used to having a holster there. That confirmed Lucien's suspicions: Ex-cop.
Still a cop in her bones, he supposed. He drew the knives. “They're, um... Kind of replicas from this movie I used to be a fan of.”
“I never watched that kind of shit.”
He hadn't supposed she did. “Well, they're the best I could find in my house...”
She snorted. “Most people go for kitchen knives.”
“I didn't do much cooking. Med student. Last year of my residency.”
“Oh.” Her stance shifted a little, letting her guard down. “What else?”
“What else what?”
“Your skills.”
“Um. Well, you know the poisoning from the harbor that everyone's coming down with?”
“Is that what it is? You know a cure?”
“I heard it from some guy and his friend who came through and stopped off with my group for a couple days on their way to the city. They knew a lot about it.”
“Is that how you know? You said you just got into town.” She took out her flashlight again and signaled – three short, one long, three short, two long, one short – down the street each way, and once at the building behind Lucien.
Lucien shook his head. “We heard it from someone going the other way, actually. Lady and her kid. Said it was so bad in parts of town that she didn't want to stick around for him to catch it.”
“Hope she got lucky. I wouldn't take my family out of town. Don't know how we'd survive. I've been a city kid all my life.”
“I spent summers with my grandparents on their farm.”
“You know anything about agriculture?”
“A little.” He'd gotten to watch it get invented and developed over a few hundred centuries, at least. In earth-years, of course. Time ran a little differently in the Two Realms.
“And I suppose you can defend yourself well enough...”
“Well enough, yes. Is there any chance –”
“That you can get sanctuary here?”
“Yes.”
“There's a man with a rifle on the roof of the building behind you and two more guards on either corner. You're a medic.”
“Ah,” said Lucien.
“Would you like to come inside?”
“Yes, thank you, I would.”
“How fortunate.”
***
It wasn't that Lucien was imprisoned, per se. He was always allowed to ask about going outside the barricade, but there were two guards posted at hi
s door who followed him to and from his work in the med shed, allegedly to keep him from 'doing anything stupid'. The previous two medics had come to unfortunate ends due to excessive heroism, apparently, and it had been decided that such things were inconvenient and not to be permitted.
Lucien supposed this was understandable. He tried to be comfortable with the situation. It's not like he couldn't leave if he really wanted to. It was just that he'd have to break his cover to do it.
He wished he had a way to get a message to Lalael, but he wasn't even allowed to socialize with any of the other people in this group yet, except when someone came into the med shed.
That was the worst part. He couldn't heal the victims too quickly for fear that someone would have the information they needed to put two and two together, so he spent a lot of time looking concerned and busy and doing things like taking pulses while he checked to see each demon's progress. He waited as long as he could for most of them, taking the demons out before they reached the victim's hearts. Sometimes he couldn't bring himself to wait so long, especially with the children. There had been dozens in the med shed the first day; he'd cleaned up a handful of the worst ones and convinced them that they still felt sick enough to stay in bed for another day or two. Most of them didn't mind the excuse to rest and be taken care of.
Unfortunately, there were other issues and injuries besides. He knew how to set a bone and clean and bind a wound, but when it came to viruses and infections... Well, he himself had never had a cold, even. He did the best he could.
Lalael arrived on the eighth day and was shown into the med shed amid much fanfare by Sergeant Watson herself, the former officer who had interrogated Lucien the night he'd arrived. “This is Asher,” she enthused. “He has his own gun and he shot a pigeon off a lamppost that was a ways down the street. Impossible shot. You're going to fix him up, and then I'm giving him a beer from the stash because that was the best thing I've seen in a long time.” She turned to Lalael. “Is this the guy you were looking for?”
“No,” Lalael said promptly. The sergeant's face fell. “I think he might be dead. I was only looking to collect a debt anyway.”
“Well, if you don't have anywhere else to stay, we would definitely have a place for a man with your skills here.”
“Oh,” said Lalael. Lucien carefully wasn't looking at him, but he knew that tone. Surprised. Pleased.
“We have a good set-up going here, don't we, Louis?”
“Sarge runs a good tight ship.” He'd glanced up and nodded politely when Lalael came in, and then gone back to pretending to listen to a victim's breathing. When he was done, he hooked the stethoscope around his neck and offered his hand for Lalael to shake. “Louis Flanahan. I just got here last week. If you sit down over there, I'll take a look at you in a minute.”
“You will stay?” the sergeant pressed.
Lucien rummaged in the cabinet for gauze. So Lalael got to choose to stay. Fine, fine. Lucien came back over just as Lalael was nodding. “I guess I don't have anywhere to go.”
“Excellent. I'll have a bunk arranged for you in the barracks. Just ask anyone and they'll point you in the right direction.”
Lucien unrolled the gauze slowly as she left. “Hello Asher.”
“Hello Louis.” Lalael took off the coat – which had at some point in the last week been expertly repaired – and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. He had a gash on his upper arm, which was already well knit. Angels healed quickly. “Two days ago.”
“Surprised in the dark?”
“Not by what you're thinking. Nearly got mugged.”
Lucien began wrapping it, more for the look of the thing than because it was necessary. “So,” he said. “How have you been?”
He didn't look great: Tired, hungry, a bruise on his jaw and a nick on his forehead. He was filthy, but then everyone was.
“Um,” said Lalael. “Well, I'm glad I found you. That pigeon took the last bullet I had.”
“Oh?”
“Spent the rest on animals, bartered the meat for information. Waste of bullets.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. “Overkill.”
“It's very cold at night, and it's hard to keep a fire going, and I'm bad at building shelters.”
“Well, you seem to be the new favorite in town. She'll make sure you have anything you want.” Lucien tied off the gauze, and Lalael rolled his sleeve down. He let his head drop back against the wall and closed his eyes, and Lucien got up to put things away. “If you're tired, you can rest on one of the cots before you go to the barracks.”
“I'm alright here.” He rubbed his forehead. “In Ríel, we went to the baths every day. Clean water as hot as you could stand to get clean in, and then a cool one scented with flowers.”
“If you smiled at her, I bet she'd acquire a bowl of water for you.” Lucien didn't hide his envy. “All I get is a wet rag twice a week.”
“On special holidays, we got milk baths and our hair washed with rosewater.”
Lucien's reply was interrupted by a scream from the other side of the shed. “I have to go take care of – unless you want to?”
Lalael cracked one eye open and frowned. “He looks bad.”
“I've been waiting.”
“Isn't that bad for them?”
“Ehh.” Lucien rocked his hand from side to side. “It's not good for them, but they recover from it.”
“You're going to get found out again if you keep helping. Captain Joe was getting suspicious anyway. You know he was. He was just trying hard not to think about it.”
“Well. It's all I can really do right now.”
Lalael watched him extract the demon. The man he was helping was so far gone that it took several minutes to get the imp out without injuring him, but Lucien managed it delicately. When Lucien was done, Lalael hauled himself to his feet. “I haven't slept in two days, so...”
“Yeah, go ahead, go on.”
“We probably shouldn't talk too much at first.”
Lucien nodded. “I'll see you when I see you, then, I guess.” Lalael turned to go to the door, and Lucien added, “It's good. To. See you, that is. I'm glad you tracked me down too.”
Lalael nodded.
***
A knock came on the door of the med shed while Lucien was in the middle of dinner. It had been a relatively quiet, slow day. The guards opened the door and let in a woman: A few years older than Lucien, maybe, with long curly dark brown hair, and a pentacle around her neck. She was clutching her stomach and looking dramatically pained.
“I have a really bad stomach ache.”
Lucien sighed. That's what they all said when someone just wanted to get a few minutes' rest, but he didn't want to risk sending someone away to die of appendicitis. “You can lie down over there.”
As soon as the door closed, she dropped the act. Her eyes were wide and had a strange light in them. Lucien was terribly glad he was allowed two small LED lamps in the evenings rather than candles or firelight.
“I've seen you from across the street and in the mess hall, but no one ever said you were so gorgeous up close.”
Oh no, she wasn't really about to try this, was she? Tactless! Lucien frowned. “Thanks, but if you're sick, you need to lie down. If you're not, there's someone else who will be along with an actual need.”
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“I'm flattered.”
“I wanted to... to tell you I'm a friend.”
That set off a red flag. “Friends are good,” Lucien said slowly. “I'm afraid I'm not sure if there's a context. If there is, I'm missing it.”
She took a step closer. “I saw the other one today. Everyone was talking about that thing with the pigeon.”
“...The other one what?”
“The other god.”
Lucien's blood ran cold. He backed away slowly, covered it by checking on a patient. She took a few more steps closer to him, her hands clasped under her chin.
“I won't tell any
one,” she said. “There's a couple others that know, but you're not evil like some people say, are you? You're not the same as the monsters.”
“Sergeant Watson won't like having to deal with mental troubles, and I'm nowhere near a qualified psychiatrist.”
She dropped her hands. “I know you're a god, and I saw the other one and I knew he was one too, and then I knew it was you that people have been talking about. I'm not crazy. I just know. I read it in the cards last week, the day before you came. You're going to save all of us and make everything better. I know it.” Lucien felt a strange tingle run through him like a tiny zap of electricity. The woman's eyes widened further. “See? Did you see that? That's how I know for sure.”
“If you don't leave immediately, I'll tell the guards you're raving mad and asking for drugs, and they'll take you to border and throw you out. Trying to sneak resources you don't need? Tsk tsk.”
The woman took a step back. “I'm sorry. I'll leave. I've made you uncomfortable. I can't really do anything to convince you I'm trustworthy, can I?”
“It's just that you could get me dead, making wild accusations like that. People are scared.”
“If you want to escape, I'll help you. I know a way out.”
“So do I,” Lucien said promptly.
“I mean without flying.”
“I'm not sure what you're talking about.”
“Just remember, okay? And if you do go, take me with you. I can help you. I can.”
“I don't have any reason to leave. This is a good place.” Lucien edged past her and opened the door. “I'm glad you're feeling better. Sorry I couldn't do more for you.”
Her face fell. “Just remember what I said. I believe in you.” The hair stood up on the back of Lucien's neck as she walked out the door.
Dangerous woman. They'd been careful – or at least, he'd been careful, but if she'd seen them somewhere else and recognized them, they were shit out of luck. He'd have to find a way to talk to Lalael.
***
Lucien gave Lalael significant looks when he went to the mess to get his breakfast the next day.
In the End Page 13
