by JK Ensley
“Good.” Jenevier stood up. “Then, let’s finish this.”
Ardune suddenly grabbed her wrist as she turned to go, pulling her against him, staring directly into her eyes.
“Listen to me, my Lady.”
When Jenevier met the Drowl’s intense gaze, her breath caught. An unsettling chill ran through her.
“Make no mistake about this,” Ardune said. “You are not walking into just another battle. This is not a summons. You are no longer the Reaper.”
Jenevier swallowed hard, her heart beating loudly within her ears.
“When you step into that arena.” He glanced up with a nod, then back down to her. “You will do so as Jenevier… as a human. This battle, my most beautiful Lady, is exactly as you say—a battle for your very soul. Yet… you are master of your destiny. If you will truly be redeemed… then you must make ready.”
“Make ready how?” She held out her arms. “As you see me is as I am.”
“The Imp didn’t mention your ring out of curiosity alone. That is not his purpose.”
“The Imp? But—”
“Tell me, my Lady. What power does that ruby truly hold?”
Jenevier glanced down at her hand. “It is a symbolic treasure of a gift I once claimed,” she whispered.
“Is it a symbol only?” He gently shook her shoulders. “What did the Angel say when he placed it there?”
“Michael said… that Vashti was a power now dormant within me. He withdrew it, fastened it to my hand.”
“For what purpose?”
Jenevier looked up to meet the Drowl’s gaze. “As a visual reminder. He said… if I ever needed it, it would be here.”
“And what is the power? What is Vashti?”
“Vashti was my angelic mask, gifted me during my Pyrolysis. She is the Avenging Angel of God.”
Ardune furrowed his brow. “And… you let a gift such as that go dormant?”
“I no longer needed her,” Jenevier whispered. “Once I accepted my fate, once I gave up my humanity and accepted my wings… I was no longer an avenger. I was simply… Death.”
Ardune brushed away the tears Jenevier didn’t even realize she was shedding.
“And… how do you call upon her?” he whispered softly.
Jenevier only furrowed her brow. She didn’t answer.
“When first you were gifted this mask, how did you call upon its power? How did you summon Vashti?”
“I don’t remem—”
“Think, my Lady. When was the first time you used her might in battle?”
She glanced away, a gentle smile turning up the corners of her mouth as her vision seemed to glass over.
“It was my first summons,” she barely whispered. “Vittorio took me to Earth.”
“Yes… and what happened?”
“I went as myself, as you see me now… minus all my scars. The people of the eighth layer… they could see me as well.”
“Go on, my Lady.”
Jenevier bit her bottom lip. “I was so scared. I didn’t have any idea what I was supposed to do. Vittorio told me, if I didn’t change… he would be forced to kill those men, forced to kill the innocent ones.”
“So…” Ardune gently turned her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me, my Lady. What did you do?”
She blinked the last of her tears away, and smiled. “…I prayed.”
Ardune pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. “To be so enchantingly beautiful… those deep blue eyes of yours carry an ocean full of pain.”
Jenevier melted against the Drowl, let him comfort her… if only for a moment.
“Let’s head back to the cave,” he whispered, gently stroking her curls. “You have much to think on, my Lady.”
“Yes… Yes, I do.”
Chapter 24
Jenevier
(ZHEN-ah-veer)
“This is the last of the Tissamon, my Lady.” Ardune carefully cut into the soft, pink fruit. “Ahriman hasn’t shown up with your lunch yet. I wonder what’s keeping the Angel?” he mumbled to himself.
Jenevier opened her eyes and smiled. “I care not for the soul-eater. This will do fine, Ardune. Tissamon fruit as my last meal… it’s quite fitting, actually—perfect, in fact.”
“You like it that much?”
“Yes, I do. The man that I love above all others, he fed me this… when I first stepped out of hell. Now that I think on it, I cannot recall having any from that time until this.”
“He must have been a truly lucky man indeed, for you to still count him as most beloved.”
“Who? Varick?” She snorted out a self-deprecating laugh. “I was the lucky one… and the foolish one. Varick got the worst of me, to be sure. No… I would not count Varick as lucky.”
“What was he like… the man that makes your smile grow and your eyes sparkle?”
She swallowed hard. “Varick was… perfection—elegant, noble, regal perfection. He was a Guardian Prince, yes. But unlike any creature I have ever known.”
“How so?”
A dreamy look filled her watery eyes. The tender sight made Ardune’s breath catch.
“His perfect face was framed with gold,” she gently whispered. “And his voice… ahh… Varick’s warm voice was as gentle as a summer breeze tickling across my skin.” She smiled softly, touching her arms as she spoke. “That enchanting man could soothe me with a touch, and rile my temper with but a look.”
When she chuckled and then paused for a moment, Ardune unconsciously wiped at his eyes.
“When first I saw that beautiful man… I was struck speechless, dumbfounded.” Jenevier glanced, unseeing, toward the cave’s entrance. “I knew nothing of the supernatural, not back then. I had no knowledge of the unseen things in this universe.” She sighed softly. “I thought he was an Angel. Now… now I know with all certainty… Varick was so much more. There is not an Angel created who could hold a candle to that Guardian.”
Jenevier’s mind was wholly upon her precious Varick, back to the time they had lived together after she had escaped hell and then Shabriri. She smiled as she remembered watching him dress in the mornings… the way his taut muscles moved beneath his flawless, iridescent skin.
Like ripples across the surface of sun-sparkling water, she thought. His body was as priceless art, and his soul like the very heavens. Varick’s sweet kiss melted me. Every. Single. Time. How I desired the man… loved him… worshipped him, even. I could never be his equal. I did not deserve his adoration.
“…And…” she rasped softly.
Ardune cut up the last bit of fruit as he silently listened to her gently cracking voice.
“No matter what I did to the man, no matter how many times I screwed-up, or all out sinned… he forgave me everything. Not once did he hate me. Not once did he place a mark against me.” She wiped her tear-stained cheeks then. “He was my first… and I his. Making love to Varick… there are no worthy words.”
She smiled softly at her new onyx friend. He returned the gesture in-kind.
“We were to be married that same day… the morning after we had spent the night in each other’s arms… the day I purposely killed a forgiven, pleading man.” She sniffed then and wiped her nose. “Instead of walking down the aisle with the most precious creature ever created… I was sentenced to roam the eighth layer—a shadow, a ghost, a lost soul with no value… no worth.”
“And… you never saw him again?”
She glanced toward the Drowl, then away again. “He would have been blessed had I not.” She sighed. “No… I saw him again. I saw that spotless man the moment I stepped through the portal from hell. He wrapped me up in his arms, his amazing scent surrounding me… caressing my wicked heart.”
“Wicked?”
Jenevier rubbed her temples. “After my banishment… my sins only multiplied. Not only did I befriend the powers of hell, I physically blended with their dark Prince.”
“…Apollyon,” Ardune barely whispered.
&
nbsp; She shook her head, biting her lip. “I fell for that demon-Angel… fell hard. Varick had to live with that. I told him the truth of it all.” She wiped her eyes again. “Let that be enough, Ardune. My heart is too heavy—weighted down with crippling guilt… and epic, unfathomable love. As I said before… Varick was perfect. And me… I was tragically flawed and forever scarred. No… he was never the lucky one.”
*****
When Jenevier knelt and closed her eyes, Ardune stepped outside the cave and gave her privacy she didn’t even ask for.
I love that human, he thought, smiling. I love her heart, her strength, her fire. Father, if You can still hear me… heed her prayers. Give that exquisite creature whatever she now asks for. Her light has brought hope to a realm completely devoid of that rare treasure. Bless her… as she has unknowingly blessed us. Give her, and me, the strength we will need this day.
He waited several more moments before quietly stepping back inside.
“Are you ready, my Lady?” The Drowl gently pulled her curls back and secured them with a leather band. “Have you done all that needs to be done?”
“Yes. I have prayed, Brother. I am at peace.”
“And what did you ask for? Strength? Victory?”
Jenevier smiled softly. “I have prayed for forgiveness. That’s all that truly matters now. The rest is up to Father.”
“Forgiveness?”
“Aye, forgiveness.” She nodded. “It is a great request, for I have done much I am sorry for. If Father grants me this, He is a merciful God indeed.”
When she saw the obvious worry creasing his dark forehead, Jenevier chuckled.
“Where have you been all my life, Brother? Would that there was a Drowl for every lost maiden.”
“No, my Lady. The Drowl’s time has passed for a reason.”
“Perhaps.” She nodded. “Yet, I am glad you were with me in the end.”
“Then come, my Lady.” Ardune held his hand out to her. “Let us return to Gilbad. We will see to this crucible, together.”
*****
“What do you mean, we cannot fight in his absence?” Jenevier mimicked the Imp’s words.
“This is the Angel’s tournament,” Gavane said. “Only he can conduct it.”
“Un. Freaking. Believable.” She rubbed her forehead, smoothing away her visible frustration. “Listen up, Imp. Consider this tournament usurped.”
“Wha— What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is… I care not if Shamsiel is here or no.” She turned toward the crowded stands. “Hear me now!” Her voice reverberated throughout the arena. “Is it possible for that old fallen one to leave Sheol? No! No, it is not. Then, tell me. Is there one among you who has defeated him?”
Jenevier waited, but there was no response. Ardune nodded slightly when she glanced his way.
“Very well,” she continued. “Then I say to you now, the great Shamsiel is either scared… or has lost interest in me. The games will go on, fallen Angel or no.” Jenevier waited for the murmurs to subside, then held up her hands. “By the rules of this ancient arena, I have come to redeem myself. I am no creature’s prize. I cannot be owned. The fighting amongst yourselves has now ended. If any wish to stand against me, come forth!”
Silence ruled the arena. Ardune smiled to himself as he gazed at her strong profile.
“I will not wait idly while you continue to slaughter each other,” she said. “If there is one among you who can best me, now is the time. End my life, or leave this place. There is no other path.”
Ardune took his place at her side as murmurs spread throughout the crowd.
Hunter stood. “The Gargoyles will not leave.” The crowd fell silent again. “Yet, we will not oppose you, Maiden. We wish to observe, minus interference.”
“Namaste, Brother.” Jenevier bowed in her Dragon manner toward the giant Gargoyle captain before he reclaimed his seat.
“Are you going to fight the Drowl?’ someone called out.
“Jenevier Embarr is my Lady,” Ardune said. “And as such, no other Drowl may enter the arena floor. I will stand at my Lady’s side.”
The murmurs rose then and were almost deafening.
“Fear not,” Jenevier called out over the crowd. “I have no intention of dishonoring your sacred sands. I will fight alone. Ardune will simply ensure there is no outside interference.”
The Drowl sort of growled under his breath. Jenevier ignored him.
“We will accept your challenge,” Glendor the Goblin said. “Jester will have a go at you first… then I’ll come finish the job.”
“Did you hear that, Jester?” Jenevier chuckled through her words. “Your old buddy wishes you to sacrifice yourself so that his task may be easier. Wow, some friend you got there. What do Goblins turn into, anyway? Muck and mire?”
Ardune snorted sardonically. “Slime and snot, more like.”
Jenevier was still laughing when Jester’s sword clanged loudly against Amatiste. Ardune stepped back, keeping his gaze fixed on the other Goblin.
Without even having to think about it, Jenevier fought her opponent in the ways of the Guardian. Her earliest training came back to her as if by reflex.
The Goblin didn’t prove much by way of his steel, no. Yet, he relied heavily upon cunning and sneak attacks.
“I see you were taught to fight with honor, human girl,” Jester said as he took a step back and began circling her, dragging his large sword alongside him. “The honorable warrior dies hard, ‘tis true. Alas… he still dies.”
As Jester spoke the last word he swung his sword tip through the sand, sending a blinding face full in her direction just as he charged.
Jenevier tucked her head down and spun twice, then kicked the running Goblin in the side, sending him toppling to the ground with a groan.
Glendor hissed as he took a single step in her direction. Jenevier glanced toward the second Goblin just as Ardune drew his twin blades.
Jester cursed her as he made it back to his feet, holding tight to his left side a moment before once again raising his sword.
She smiled sweetly at her injured opponent, and then began to channel her old friend, Vareilious. She recalled the massive Guardian’s sarcastic smirk as she kept her gaze locked with Jester’s, but pointed behind her towards the other Goblin. Without so much as a twitch, Jenevier sent a deadly beam of light across the arena floor, piercing Glendor through the center of his chest.
When Jester lowered his sword and looked toward his falling comrade, Jenevier quickly withdrew Iole Máni, appeared behind her distracted opponent, and rapidly severed the large Goblin’s spinal cord.
Ardune raised a single eyebrow as he looked her way. Jenevier only sent him a wink via response.
Ardune snorted. “Honorable warrior, huh?”
“I haven’t lived this long by playing the fool, Brother. I have honor enough to spare… when the time is right.”
He smiled. “And that day is not this day, my Lady.”
Their whispered celebration was short-lived. While the two Goblin statues were still being carried out of the arena, another opponent lunged toward her. Thus began the battle in earnest.
*****
When Jenevier had felled her second Tree-man, she noticed there were now six statues being carried across the bloodied sands. She turned a questioning look toward the Drowl. Ardune only shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
“They were planning on interfering,” he said casually.
She chuckled sardonically. “Truly? And you could tell that just by looking at them?”
He shrugged his shoulders again. “I’ve got this whole other sense concerning such things.”
The two friends shared a knowing wink, but Jenevier didn’t fail to take notice that Ardune had claimed four enemies to her two.
Yes, she thought. Every Lady should have a Drowl at her side.
When she heard the chilling hiss of the approaching Banshee, Jenevier felt that old familiar tingle returning to
her fingertips. She smiled as she and her newest opponent ran toward each other. With one silent sweep of Jenevier’s hand, the attacking creature’s horrible hissing sound turned into an unmistakable death gargle.
Jenevier looked down at her extended claws, smiling to herself as she watched the black blood drip silently from those lethal diamond tips.
“Where did you get those beauties?” Ardune asked as he stepped up beside her.
“When I received Vashti…” She held up her hand, turning it from side to side. “…I received these.” She smiled. “They are my favorite thing about being the Angel I was.” She clinked them together, producing a magical chiming sound. “I love my claws. And… they perfectly match my priceless wings.”
“Well, you might want to pop those out as well,” he said. “Looks like you’ve made them pretty mad.”
Jenevier turned when Ardune softly elbowed her, and saw the hoard of gathering Banshee.
“What? The whole damn coven at once?”
Ardune chuckled. “You ready?”
Jenevier popped the bones in her neck and loosened up her shoulders. “I was just warming up, Brother.”
Ardune glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a sardonic smirk painted across his dark lips. “You are not like any Lady I have ever known before.”
“Aww… Do you think ill of me now? Am I not Lady enough for you?”
When she winked at him, Ardune chuckled.
“More Lady than even a seasoned Drowl could handle, yes,” he mumbled.
Jenevier was still smiling as she charged toward the oncoming hoard.
*****
It took a few minutes, yes, but soon the hardened pillars of Banshee-shaped salt were being removed from the arena floors.
“Gratitude, Brother,” Jenevier said, breathing heavily. “Your might is astounding. I’m not sure I could have handled that many in one go.”
Ardune inclined his head toward her. “Anything for my Lady.”
She smiled. “You’re as quick as the wind, Drowl. You want I should just sit this next one out?”
He chuckled. “If it pleases you.”
