Rift

by D. Fischer

  A groan - partial relief, partial pain - rumbles up Kat’s ribs, her head thumping to the cold floor which perfectly reflects the sparkling stars above.

  Hushed, violent mutters enclose before any of us can uncurl our fists from scales. We wait for several moments, catching our breath and calming our hearts.

  We’re safe.

  Slowly, I stretch my cramped limbs and slide backward down her back. My pants catch on a spike of her tail, ripping a hole near my calf. The sandman, Jaemes, and Dyson are sluggish to peel themselves off, dismounting and snapping their legs.

  I push my disgruntled curls from my face. A few locks are stuck to the enemy’s dried blood streamed across the hill of my cheek. Carefully dislodging them, I rake the same hand along my scalp and turn on my heel to face the approaching group of curious and furious warriors.

  I assess the situation quickly - their tones versus their body language - and see they present no immediate threat to me or mine. Their eyes are flickering and darkly brooding, but their palms remain open and their wings twitch with the need for information.

  Pulling my shoulders back, I head to Kat’s passengers. One of my eyebrows raises while I watch Dyson try to cover his manhood with both hands and failing, his face brightly red. Although unharmed by Kat’s scales, he’s naked as the day he came screaming from his mother’s womb.

  Kat groans, and the sound vibrates the entire floor. Hot breath wafts soon after, curling around my ankles and chasing the chill from the room. The three men take several wide steps back from the sprawling beast, and then Jaemes pins Dyson with a disgusted frown.

  His elf-tinted accent speaks in clipped, barking syllables. It’s his version of chastising, I’ve learned. “Why are you naked?”

  Ignoring Dyson’s stuttering, unintelligible answer, I glide around to the front of Kat’s head. It’s as long as I am tall, and I marvel at the sleek, smaller scales pinched between the tight dips of her face’s skeletal structure.

  Bending my knees, I block out the men’s bickering and allow it to fade into the background. Her fire orange eyes gaze back into mine, a sigh rushing through her nostrils.

  She’s much bigger when I stand this close, more magnificently dangerous and mighty, even as she lays, vulnerable, in an undignified heap. Each muscle ripples with every breath, and her scales are sharply defined like carved steel.

  I reach forward with a careful hand and touch her muzzle with the tips of my fingers. The scales are softer here, smooth and leathery. I flatten my palm, tilt my head, and run my hand up her face. I stop between her grieving eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I murmur, concerned. I don’t know if I’m staring at the beast or at Kat. I’m certain Kat almost lost herself in the bloodbath back there.

  I also know her heart is filled with sorrow and deep regret for leaving behind Jane and Tanya. If it were my charge, I’d need a moment to myself as well. But here isn’t the place to shed emotions. Here is not safe for the powerful or the least bit different.

  A soft wind exits her lungs, and this time, it’s tinged with the smell of burning wood and white smoke. With much effort, she tucks her massive legs under her and stands on all four shaky legs, looming over me and all those who gather. Chomping her jaw once, she curves her long neck and surveys the audience.

  I follow her lead and study my home. The angel’s portal glistens and shimmers behind me, almost invisible to an untrained eye. The black pillars rise to a star-speckled sky. White flecks move inside the marble, and laughter quietly rings down the hall from another part of the Grounds.

  Throughout this colossal area, angels are shocked still, gaping with their mouths wide open at the dragon who invaded their peace. Some of their wings flutter, agitated when she meets their gaze, while a few halos banish dark corners of the room.

  The shock quickly fades, however, and the air becomes smothered with hostility. I tense, ready for what may come.

  Turning stiffly, my back to my dragon charge, I glance at Jaemes as more angels rush into the common area, Ires ready. Unaffected by the possible danger he faces, his feet pad against the floor as he comes to stand beside me. He narrows his eyes to the angels while flicking his thumb at Dyson behind him.

  “He’s naked,” he proclaims with a tone of disgust.

  “I’m aware,” I mumble distractedly.

  As if it just occurred to him he’s on enemy grounds, Jaemes leans in to whisper in my ear. The gesture makes it clear to the circling angels that we’re together as a team, and I cringe. The angels hate the elves, and vice versa. And… they hate me.

  “Is this when I should cower in fear?” he asks.

  I scrape my bottom teeth over my top lip and ignore his crass question. “We need Erma before this gets out of control.”

  The Angel’s Ground is no place for a breathing enemy. However, here we stand, a wingless angel, an arrogant elf, an unsteady dragon, a silent sandman, and naked shifter, breaking the rules set about for the safety of our home.

  I tilt my head up and peer at Kat’s dragon. “Can you shift back?”

  A rumble’s soundwaves tickle the soles of my feet while she returns the hard stare to the angels, a battle of wits. She must feel it as well – the hatred, the uncertainty. Perhaps she’s telling me she doesn’t want to shift back in case we have another fight on our hands.

  Her orange eyes flick back to mine, and her pointed spikes flatten along her spine. She tucks her wings tight against her back, and we endure a moment of silent communication. I watch as her irises darken, and the slitted pupils enlarge, taking the glow with it.

  What I would give to understand what’s going on in her head - to know the secrets she keeps tucked away to spare those around her. She doesn’t trust me enough to share the burden, and perhaps, it’s not my place to demand it.

  I nod to her, gently encouraging while keeping my face soft and free of increasing concern. I turn back to the angels and give her the privacy she deserves, forming a tiny wall with Jaemes. Together, our stances are wide and portray our desire to protect her.

  Cracking and popping quickly follow, and Jaemes’ body practically hums with his own desire to witness the transformation, shifting from foot to foot. But he resists, gripping the curved handle of his bow instead.

  She groans, confirming her discomfort and soreness. When the sandman and Dyson suck in a sharp breath. Jaemes peeks over his shoulder and scoffs. “Why is nudity the theme of the day?”

  “When they shift, they lose their clothes,” I mumble, preparing to further explain. I’m cut off from the details of the transformation when screams erupt. With the echo it generates, it takes me longer than it should have to discover where it originated. I blink hard and Jaemes curses, swiftly leaving my side.

  I sharply turn, the movement uncoordinated. For a moment, I’m frightened the angels might be attacking my charge. But they remain as still as before.

  My heart thumps hard against the veins in my wrist. On the ground, the sandman and Dyson clutch their middles while curled into a fetal position on their sides. Their hands clench their chests, agony creasing lines on their youthful foreheads. Through a pained expression, Dyson looks to me, his eyes wild and his face visibly paling.

  “What is it?” I demand, striding to the men and looming over Dyson while Jaemes hovers over the sandman.

  Kat quickly rushes to our sides, her bare feet slapping the marble, seemingly unconcerned about her nudity. It feels like yesterday we were standing in the alley after she defeated a nest of vampires. Then, she had cared much about her exposed flesh to peering eyes. But now, she doesn’t seem to notice. This isn’t the same Katriane DuPont, though. I’d be a fool to believe otherwise.

  Together, we quickly bend and sit on our knees. Jaemes’ gaze sweeps the sandman’s shaking body, looking for obvious injuries where there are none. Slowly, he lifts his eyes back to mine. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him display true emotional concern.

  “My – chest –” Dyson spits between clen
ched teeth. Curling tighter, he screams again. The crowding angels jump in surprise.

  “His heart!” Kat yells over their synchronized agony. She places her hands on his calves, tendrils of bright lights swirling below her palms. She raises them past Dyson’s hips to the area where Dyson claws at his ribs.

  “What about it?” Jaemes demands.

  Dyson rolls to his back, completely still, and after displaying the same power over the sandman, Kat’s magic disappears. The two men look to be sleeping though their body’s still twitch.

  “They’ve fainted,” I announce, distracted by Kat’s power. I’ve never seen her do that before. Magic usually requires spells, but she didn’t utter one word.

  A dark expression crosses her face. I can almost see the flames behind the irises. “Their hearts belong to Kheelan,” she growls.

  “Move!” Erma shouts from the other end of the common area.

  She parts the sea of angel’s silently gathered around us and emerges through the crowd, Erline right behind her. Erma bends to the sandman, kneeling beside Jaemes, and examines him. She’s clothed in her black dress, the one which exposes the pale skin along her shoulder blades and the feminine dips of her spine. It pools around her knees, a dark puddle.

  Erline positions behind Kat with her arms crossed. A hostile and vicious expression contorts her gentle features, crunching her small pixie nose. I know what she’s doing - she’s placing herself between the Angels’ smothering tension and her sole responsibility: Katriane DuPont.

  Hovering her hand above him, a yellow glow emits from Erma’s palms just as Kat had done. She nods grimly, coming to the same conclusion as Kat.

  “They’re tied to Kheelan,” Erline confirms, speaking for Erma. “Kheelan is calling back his hearts.”

  I ball my hands into fist, my nails biting the skin, and slam it on the ground next to my thighs with a crack. “I’ve had enough of this!”

  All the death, all the games and open hostility. What has become of the realms to stoop to such a low level?

  After taking a calming breath, per Erma’s pointed glare, I direct my next question to Erline. If anyone knows Kheelan best, she does. “How do we stop it?”

  Erline doesn’t look at me, and her lips press together. “You must tie them to you, Katriane.”

  Kat visibly stiffens, and slowly, she turns her dark eyes to the fee hovering above her. “Excuse me?”

  “You must tie their lives,” Erline states, pointing to the writhing, unconscious men as though the action would explain everything. “To yours.”

  I laugh cynically. “That’s impossible. Kat doesn’t have that much power.” No one answers me. “Does she?”

  Kat hesitates, staring at her realm’s creator. She doesn’t want to, this much is evident. This will be not one but two other lives on her hands. If she dies, they die.

  “Why don’t you do it?” Jaemes asks Erma while tugging at his pointed ears.

  Erma shakes her head and tucks a hand under the sandman’s shoulder. “I won’t tie myself to another.” She focuses on Erline like a child urging its mother.

  What does she mean?

  My face relaxes as the conclusion hits me. Erma is tied to every creature she creates. It’s why she holds them so dear - gave them hearts to care and appease the reckless behavior we barely hold at bay. She’s not only preserving our longevity; she’s ensuring hers.

  “Why not?” I ask, flabbergasted.

  Erma gracefully stands and holds out her hands in the open air. The atmosphere cracks for a split second, and a plush white blanket finds its way into her waiting fingers. She snaps the fabric and drapes it comfortingly over Kat’s naked shoulders.

  “Need you ask, angel?” Erline barks, eyeing the white fluff.

  I growl, protective over Kat who has yet to respond to Erline. She shouldn’t have to do this. She just lost two lives. Adding more may break her completely.

  I can feel Kat’s emotions waver, witness them cross her face as she watches Dyson with a telling sparkle in her eye. Her gaze lingers far longer than it should for a normal person.

  “I – I can’t,” Kat begins, her eyes watering.

  Erline flicks her wrists, clothing Kat in tight jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt, the blanket remaining where it was placed.

  “You must,” Erline mumbles. “Our futures - your future - will be grim without them.” She lowers herself to Kat’s level, her blue dress billowing like the skirt of a bell. “This, I promise you, daughter of my daughter. If you lose him,” she eyes Dyson, “all will be lost. They are important for what’s to come.”

  A tear reluctantly spills over the rims of Kat’s tired eyes and trickles down the slopes of her cheek. She angrily swipes the heel of her hand across the chapped skin and hardens her face. “How do I do it?”

  Erline smiles weakly, a reassurance, and I cringe internally. I don’t trust her - not after what she pulled with Myla’s spirit. She continuously endangers my charge.

  “The tears of a dragon and a little magic,” she coaxes.

  The angels behind us murmur in one hushed wave.

  “And what will –” Kat begins, but Erma cuts her off.

  “We don’t have the time for questions, Dragon. If you want your friends to live, we must act now.” Erma pauses and sucks in a calming breath. “We will aide you in this. You needn’t worry.”

  Without explanation, without further verbal consent, Erline lifts her slender yet powerful hand to Kat’s increasingly reddening cheek. She gathers a stray tear on the pad of her thumb. Sluggishly, the droplet dribbles down her knuckle and cups in the scoop of her hand, glistening.

  With a lick to her bottom lip, Erline scurries around Kat, and leans to Dyson. She rubs the tear on his forehead then makes her way to the sandman, repeating the same action.

  I gather to my feet when the black floor and pillars quake. The Angel’s Ground groans with power, and a drafty breeze dips into the common room, whispers in the wind.

  At first, nothing happens to the two men. But then, a strike like a crack of thunder booms in the space around us. The men’s backs arch as though a string is attached to their sternums and pulls at their abdomens.

  Kat gradually gathers to her feet, the blanket tumbling from her shoulders to the floor, and is pushed across the expanse by the wind. “What’s happening?” she asks.

  Erline holds out her hand to Erma, and they each hook the other’s fingers.

  Jaemes and I exchange glances as they close their eyes, dip their chin, and chant words I can’t make out above the noise. The space around us glows a vivid white, blinding light. The winds gather further, a treacherous gale that whips my hair.

  I duck my head and wrap my arms around my face. The surrounding angels’ wings lose feathers in the gusts, and they swirl in the open space, pummeling my exposed skin.

  Gritting my teeth, I fight the elements to stay upright, to not allow it to carry me away like a plastic sack in a storm. With a thundering crack, a few marble pillars crash to the floor.

  Just when I think the sea of winds will beat me to my knees, they quickly die to a gentle trickle, leaving my skin chafed and raw.

  Jaemes coughs beside me, and I lift my head, glancing at him first. He’s closer than he was before. When did he reach my side? His long, black hair is in disarray, and his jaw is set to a sharp angle of courage. “Remind me” he begins with a mumble, “to never underestimate the might of a fee.”

  I turn to what he stares at. Such pride is set in his eyes, a rare show plastered on this warrior’s appearance.

  Kat’s arms are held out to her sides, palms up, her face slanted to the stars. Whatever the two fee did seeped an abundance of extra magic inside Kat’s form. She looks every bit the force she’ll surely become. An expression of peace keeps her features relaxed, and slowly, she lowers her arms back to her sides, the transaction complete.

  Dyson and the sandman are still sprawled on the floor, seemingly untouched by the gale, but their bodies no
longer shake with pain. Feathers are sprinkled along the marble as they float around the room and find a final resting point along its surface.

  “Is it done?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  “Yes,” Kat answers.

  Erline holds out her hand and waves it in the air, clothing Dyson with black jeans and a crisp white buttoned-down shirt. “They’re safe.” She looks pointedly at Erma, one brow raised. “But they can’t remain here.”

  Frowning, I survey the area and the possible danger it poses. And then I scoff, crossing my arms to contain my disgust. Every angel who was gathered around us has fled the room, and silence has taken over the Grounds, which surely can’t be good. None of them stuck around to help my injured party, not even to converse about what had transpired. I shouldn’t have expected them to. Every being in this room is their enemy. They’ve already drawn their own conclusions. Coupled with the gossip spreading about my relationship with Erma, Erline is right. We can’t stay here. We don’t know what to expect in due retaliation, and safety won’t be welcoming in my home.

  Jaemes curses when he too notices the absence of his enemies. “Trouble follows you creatures everywhere,” he says as though he isn’t a part of the problem.

  Kat’s cheeks are burned a bright shade of pink and slick with tears. The peaceful look has fled, and her face droops before she rubs her fists against her tired eyes. She’s exhausted, today’s emotions finally taking their toll.

  “We should find Katriane a place to rest,” I mumble and reach forward to place my hand on her shoulder. She sticks me with a hard stare before I can, and I pull away and cross it back over my chest, grimacing. She’s still upset with me for my manipulation which resulted in her being shoved into Myla’s past. I believe, on some level, she blames me for Myla’s death.

  Erline speculates and studies the exchange with a scrutinizing eye. She slowly turns to Kat. “I know you despise me, and I know you’re angry with Tember. At this very moment, the realms are in your debt. But…” She pauses, waiting for Kat to meet her gaze. “It would be wise if you attempt to give your guardian a set of wings.”