Death's Mantle: A Dark Fantasy GameLit Novel

by Harmon Cooper

  “I can heal from this, Lucian…. It will only take me a minute.”

  “This is a fight we can’t win,” he told her, everything clear to him as he watched Azazyel continue to pummel Danira. “I know it; you know it.”

  It was like an anvil had fallen from twenty thousand feet up in the sky.

  Danira’s body left a crater next to what was left of Lucian and Yoshimi, the Progeny of Light letting out a barely audible yelp.

  “Get her,” Lucian said, his cape instinctively wrapping around Danira’s body and dragging her over as his crows hovered around him.

  “He’s too strong,” Danira mumbled, her face bloodied, the blue makeup smeared and her hair matted on her forehead.

  “You two go,” Yoshimi said. “I can fight him.”

  “None of us can beat him,” Lucian said.

  Azazyel began to descend toward them. His shadow loomed over the three, a purple sphere of energy forming behind him.

  “Two of you aren’t worth what I’m about to do next,” he said, baring his teeth. “But I will consider both of you a bonus. It has been a pleasure, Yoshimi-san.”

  Azazyel was just lifting his arms to deliver the sphere of purple energy when two blistering forces came out of nowhere, striking the fallen angel at the same time.

  Lucian looked up to see Old Death flying through the air, his sword loose in his hand, a smile on his face.

  The other force that had struck Azazyel was Leliel, a giant golden ax in her hands, wings on her ankles keeping her afloat.

  “Go, Lucian!” Old Death cried.

  He swatted away a purple blast from Azazyel, who couldn’t quite figure out where they had come from, a confused look on his face.

  The fallen angel gasped.

  And from there, the part of his mouth that was visible under his shattered mask lifted into a smile. “So there you are, Cuthbert,” Azazyel said. “And for so long, I thought that you had given up your mantle.”

  “I guess not, you cock robin!” Old Death cut his blade into the air, an arc of energy slicing into Azazyel and shattering the front of the fallen angel’s armor.

  “And you, Leliel,” Azazyel said, still jovial, still actually excited to see the two. “It seems as if your own kind has already started judging you considering you no longer have your wings.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the brunette told him, glaring at the fallen angel. “I’m with the one I love, and we will destroy you together.”

  “Now, Lucian,” Old Death shouted over his shoulder. “Go, my boy! Go!”

  With his hand wrapped around Yoshimi’s shoulder, and his cape holding Danira next to his body, Lucian pressed his thumb and pinky finger together, going to the first place that came to mind.

  Epilogue: Matter of Time

  Danira stumbled to her feet, elbowing her way out of Lucian’s cape.

  She fell to one knee and stood again, slipping on the sand, wincing as her golden gun took shape in her hands. She pointed it at Lucian, who still had his arm wrapped around what was left of Yoshimi’s body and was missing both legs.

  “You attacked the South Wind!” she said, her weapon charging up.

  Danira fired a shot into the sand directly next to Lucian, her eyes narrowing as her mask reformed over her face.

  She lifted her gun again, and turned it on her own leg, firing at herself. Her knee gave way, her shin shattering, spritzing the sand with blood as she fell.

  “You asshole,” she said, glaring at Lucian.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked as Danira trained her weapon on him yet again.

  “I’m going to call for backup.” She fired at the sand again, her concentrated energy blasts leaving a glassy spot with a curl of smoke rising from it.

  “She’s lost her damn mind,” Lucian said, starting to press away from Yoshimi.

  “No, she’s helping us,” Yoshimi said, the realization dawning on her.

  The powerful female Death had already regrown most of her torso, her wrists and hands forming as her legs took shape.

  Danira fired her weapon at the ground again. “I’m going to call for backup,” she said, louder this time.

  “I get it, I get it.” Lucian pressed himself up, moving around so he could sit on his ass, his thighs starting to reform as his crows hovered over him, watching Danira’s golden crows. His cape was in the vicinity as well, partially flared up, ready to engage if need be.

  “You have made a wise choice,” Yoshimi said, bowing to Danira. She turned to Lucian, biting her lip. “I don’t know when we will meet again…”

  “Look, if it’s about what happened to Alice, I wasn’t trying to do that,” he said, trying to gauge the concern on her face. “I was just trying to fight…”

  “They’re going to hunt you now, Lucian, to the point that it will be detrimental for me to be around you. I think I may need to disappear.”

  A breeze picked up, whipping a strand of her dark hair. The sun was setting on the horizon, the bay in Portland, Maine, as beautiful as Lucian had ever remembered it. Its rays were reflected in Yoshimi’s dark eyes; Lucian was actually able to pick out individual arcs of colors.

  “Please…” he whispered.

  “Did you see the power that it gave you?” she asked under her breath.

  Lucian nodded.

  “And you don’t crave more of this power?”

  “I can get power the other way,” he said. “I don’t want to become a Death hunter.”

  “I’m going to call for backup,” Danira said again, firing her weapon.

  “Just give us a minute,” Lucian told her. “We’re going.”

  “Goodbye, Lucian,” Yoshimi said.

  “No, no,” he said, watching as she started to press her pinky and her thumb together. “I don’t want…”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just don’t think of me in that light. You don’t fully know me, but you know me better than that. I don’t plan to hunt my own, but I do plan to defend myself. Surely you understand this.”

  Yoshimi slowly nodded. A smile started to form on her face as she stared at Lucian. The smile hardened and she bowed her head, her form fading away.

  He turned his attention back to Danira.

  “I’m going too,” he assured her.

  She fired her weapon at the sand again.

  “Remember, you shot yourself,” Lucian started to say. “Next time we meet, I don’t want that on my shoulders.”

  “I shot myself for you. You weren’t supposed to save me. I could have gotten out of there on my own.”

  “Sure you could have,” he said, falling back on the sand. Lucian looked up at the darkening sky, his legs continuing to reheal. A few stars were already starting to appear, the moon the shape of a clipped toenail.

  “How did you know we were holding him at the South Wind anyway?”

  “I partially figured it out through a book, and Yoshimi helped me the rest of the way.”

  Danira shook her head. “You really don’t realize what you’ve done, do you?”

  “I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’m not ashamed that I did it. Hopefully, my predecessor got away as well, Cuthbert.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “And another thing. Do we have to fight each other every time we meet?” Lucian asked, looking over at her.

  Danira considered this for a moment. “If other angels are around, yes. If it’s just us, perhaps not.”

  “What about right now? Can we just relax for a moment? That was an insane fight. Azazyel is on some next-level shit.”

  “I suppose we could…” She lowered her weapon. “But I’m going to have to make this look like there was a serious fight here.”

  “You’ve shot the sand like six times; I’m sure that will be enough. And then there’s your leg.”

  “It’ll probably grow back before they get here.”

  “I thought angels were fast.”

  “The Progeny of L
ight travel at their own pace; I haven’t called them yet.”

  “So we can hang out for a minute, then?”

  “I guess,” she said with a huff. “But I’m not healing up my leg.”

  Lucian laughed, his eyes drifting to her golden crows, which continued to hover before her, awaiting an order. “Do your crows ever go off and play by themselves?”

  “They do. Yours?”

  “They seem to have a mind of their own.”

  She nodded. “Have you named yours yet?”

  “No. You?”

  “No, but I have some names in mind,” she said, a look of fondness coming over her face.

  “I’ve been contemplating names since I created them. The only name I can come up with is Sparky, which is a dumb name.”

  Danira shrugged. “Why don’t you name them after Odin’s crows? He had two, you know.”

  “Did he? Does Odin even exist?”

  “Norse mythology exists; Odin, no.”

  “I mean, it’s not much of a stretch to think he exists if you believe…” Lucian cleared his throat. “Never mind. I’ll look up their names.”

  “Good, because I don’t remember them.”

  Lucian motioned for his two crows to go play in the ocean.

  “Also, you keep stealing my designs. Just saying.”

  Danira’s golden seraphim crows looked to her, both tilting their heads until she waved them away as well. “Isn’t there some quote humans say about imitation and flattery?” she asked.

  Lucian watched his spherical creations dip into the water, Danira’s crow’s following them, the stars shining off their bodies every time they rose from the waves.

  “I think so. But I’m not human anymore,” Lucian finally said as he scooted closer to Danira, his cape settling on him like a blanket. He was about five feet away from her, his focus partially on the ocean. She too faced the shoreline, her hands behind her to stabilize her body, some of the thicker parts of her armor starting to fade away.

  Her mask was the last part to disappear.

  “I’m glad you have finally come to grips with what you are,” she finally said.

  “Aren’t you going to say ‘demon?’”

  She nodded, her lips bunching up as she tried not to smile. “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “You sure like baiting me.”

  Danira shrugged. “We are mortal enemies, after all.”

  “I suppose so. How long have you been an angel?” Lucian asked after a long pause. “I’m not asking since your last death, I mean in general.”

  “I joined the Progeny of Light over four thousand years ago,” she said proudly. “Are you familiar with the Akkadians? Sargon the Great? Manishtusu? The city of Nineveh?”

  “Not exactly. The names sound somewhat biblical, or maybe from a fantasy book. Maybe a video game?”

  She shook her head, one of her crows returning to her, doing a spin in the air, and taking off again.

  “That’s the problem with humans,” Danira said. “They were actually pretty good at writing stuff down thousands of years ago, but everything got lost to time, conquest, and decay. Since you discovered the South Wind in a book, perhaps you could look up the Akkadians, and the area they inhabited in what we now call Mesopotamia.”

  “Crap, I really need to write all that down,” Lucian said.

  A thin smile formed on her face. “I wasn’t always the type of person that I am now. I grew up worshiping Ishtar, if you can believe that.”

  Lucian nodded.

  “But I saw the light, and here I am.”

  “That fast, huh?”

  She smirked. “Sometimes it seems that way. I have tried to live once or twice every millennium. It keeps me up-to-date with what’s happening, what people are experiencing. And of course, every time I do it, I don’t know that I’m a member of the Progeny of Light temporarily inhabiting a human’s body.”

  “That would definitely taint the experience.”

  “You’d be surprised how many people are walking around the world as some sort of rebirth that they have no concept of.”

  “And once they die, they discover it?”

  “Some of them. Others don’t.” Danira smiled. “It really depends on what they believe.”

  “You believe that what you believe is the strongest? The one and only?”

  “I believe in hope, Lucian,” she said, avoiding the topic. “That’s what I believe in you. You?”

  “Hope never did much for me,” he finally said, recalling the time he’d spent in the hospital. “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just think it is exploited.”

  “Now there’s something we can agree upon.”

  “See? We really aren’t that different.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, demon,” she said. “You know, I was under the impression that men weren’t supposed to ask women their age, yet here you go, pretty much your first question out of the gate. Is this making a comeback for Millennials?”

  “It’s relevant, is it not? And trust me, you don’t look a day over…”

  “Please, don’t make that joke.”

  Lucian and Danira laughed. “How did you know I was going for that one?”

  “You’re much more predictable than you think, which is why I’m usually able to find you.”

  “You never revealed to me how you actually found me, though,” he said, “especially back at the Psychiatric Center.”

  “I have my ways.”

  “Apparently.” Lucian shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re actually sitting here talking to each other, especially after what just happened.”

  “You and me both.”

  “We almost killed each other.”

  “I was far from dying; you, on the other hand…”

  “There you go, baiting me again. To be honest with you, I would prefer if we weren’t enemies for as long as we keep these roles. I realize that you have to make it look that way,” Lucian said, glancing around at the shots she’d fired into the sand, “but I’m going to have enough people trying to kill me without adding another powerful angel.”

  Her smile starting to fade. “I really wish it were that simple.”

  “I was afraid you would say something like that.”

  “It is our nature, Lucian. As crazy as that sounds, this is who we are, this is what we are. You are the Progeny of Darkness, and I’m the Progeny of Light. It’s only a matter of time until we have to rectify this.”

  “You saw my predecessor and the angel that was with him.”

  “A traitor,” she said bitterly.

  “What makes you think that they weren’t once like us? Just two…” Lucian shook his head.

  “Two what?”

  “Never mind. It sounds lame.”

  “Well, you have already made it this far…”

  “Maybe they are just two lost souls, just like us, just trying to make sense of all this.”

  Danira stared out at the ocean for a moment, eventually noticing that her leg had healed all the way up to the knee. “I’m going to have to blast my leg again, you know that, right?”

  “If you really want to make it look authentic, I can shoot it for you.”

  “Please, my weapon is stronger than yours.”

  “Your weapon is based on mine; the only thing that it does differently is morph into a sword.”

  Danira shrugged. “I thought you would like that part.”

  Lucian couldn’t help but grin. “I did.”

  “I figured.”

  “Where are you going to go after this? Where does an angel go?”

  She smirked again. “That’s a pretty lame question, you know that?”

  “You know what I mean,” Lucian said.

  “I’m going to rest after this. You?”

  “Video games; I need to unwind. But first, I plan to check on something.”

  Lucian watched his crows zip across the yard, spinning around one another. It was night now, cloud coverage overhead, an icy
breeze drifting past, winter imminent. A couple of the neighbors had their chimneys going, the smell of burnt wood in the air.

  It was peaceful and relaxing, familiar New England.

  “Cuthbert,” Lucian said under his breath, giving a name to his predecessor.

  He wondered if Old Death was still out there, if he had survived along with Leliel.

  And what was their story?

  He’d had his suspicions earlier, but now that he could properly process what had happened, what he had experienced, Lucian knew that their trip to the hospice center in Albuquerque was purposeful. Old Death had been trying to get captured by the Progeny of Light, not unlike the strategy Lucian used to rescue him.

  And it was for a girl.

  This thought produced a grin on Lucian’s face. Three hundred years as the Grim Reaper did little to thwart the course of love.

  For his predecessor to risk everything, his feelings for the angel must have been bigger than life.

  And Lucian appreciated that.

  He appreciated that the man who had given him this mantle stood for something in the end, that he was willing to go through Hell to get to Heaven.

  And regardless of what Danira had called the angel, the woman had seemed willing in the end to do the same for Old Death.

  One of Lucian’s crows returned, tilting its head as it looked to him. He lifted his hand and placed it on the crow, his spherical creation vibrating as the other appeared.

  “Names, names,” he said, patting the other one as well. His smartphone appeared and he typed in ‘Odin’s crows,’ learning that they were named Hugin and Munin. Hugin came from the nordic word Huginn, which meant ‘thought.’ Munin came from the Nordic word for ‘memory,’ Muninn.

  Thought and memory.

  “Hugin,” he said, looking to his first crow. “Munin,” he said, looking to his second. The two crows looked to each other and back to Lucian, both nodding. “One last thing to check on before we blow this popsicle stand.”

  Lucian stopped at the back door of his brother’s home, seeing his reflection in the glass, his face obscured by his hood, Hugin and Munin hovering over his shoulders.

  He really was the Grim Reaper.

  This wasn’t a sudden revelation or anything of the sort, but seeing himself now, backlit by what little light the stars could get through the clouds overhead, his facial features hidden, the fabric on his shoulders bunched up, and the fact that he was floating, only solidified this thought in his mind.