by Diana Estell
“All you have to do is whisper, and I will hear you.”
“At least you have good hearing. Is it good enough to hear me from that far?”
“Yes, I can, but there may be other noises. Use the music on your phone and wear those ear things.”
“They’re called ear buds. Wait … Oh, Dagon, is this to drown out Mark’s screams?” She ran upstairs.
Dagon listened as her feet moved frantically about. Drawers opened and closed loudly. First, Mary was in her closet, then her dresser opened, then back to her closet, then to her nightstand, and again back to her dresser.
“Can you hear me, honey?” Mary asked in a soft whisper.
Dagon laughed to himself. “Loud and clear, baby.”
“Found it! They were under the bed.” Mary returned, the cords of her earbuds dangling from her hand.
The washer came to a sharp stop. Together, they placed the clothes in the dryer.
“I know, but here we are.” With flare, he intentionally sang off key to try to lighten the moment and contact Sledge. “Ramparts we watch.”
Mary looked at him, an eyebrow raised at his impromptu performance.
“Ramparts we watch,” Dagon repeated. He kept smiling on the outside but fumed on the inside.
“You changed the code word,” said Sledge.
“That’s part of the National Anthem,” said Mary. “It goes like this—”.
Dagon waved his hands, cutting her off. “Lovely voice, but we don't have time for a concert.”
“You started it.”
“You know, boss, you could have just spoken to my mind,” said Sledge.
“I'm patriotic, now get going.”
Savila sat on her throne as Dagon and Mary walked toward the alley, hand in hand. Mark was at the Glynns’ home. Savila licked her lips and rested her hand on her sword.
Magethna’s pink quill scratched as she wrote out the last details of the day, then stopped, the quill pausing over the thin, onion skin paper.
The Seraphs saw Mary and Dagon in the alley.
“It begins,” said Dorian. “The fire was but a foretaste of what is coming.”
All the Seraphs looked at Dorian.
“What is Dagon planning to do?” said Mystil.
“He’s leaving Mary in the alley,” said Raglen, looking at Dorian.
Magethna held the nib inches from the parchment, still because the words which could not be erased, changed, or edited. She glanced toward the door as William walked into Mark’s bedroom.
Sledge walked toward the alley. Dagon told Mary he would communicate to her when and what to say. The stage was set. Dagon was antsy.
“It’s going to be all right. It will,” Mary said.
For as fragile as his bonded mate was in her mortality, she was stronger than him.
“Now, it will be like I’m with you even while I’m over in the field. I will bring you home after, so wait for me,” said Dagon.
“Okay.”
“I will take care of her, boss,” said Sledge, uncharacteristically serious.
Dagon relaxed as much as he could under the circumstances. Sledge made an emphatic point when he unsheathed his sword and twirled it. Cascades of gleaming silver light meant business in safeguarding Mary. For extra crashing, smashing, and wrecking power, Sledge took out his namesake, a sledgehammer from his pocket. “Either way, whoever tries anything will get it.”
Dagon kissed Mary, who looked so innocent and sweet with her ear buds in. Mary wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back.
“I love you, honey.”
“And I love you.” Dagon stood there, frozen.
“Honey, I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will,” was all that he could say. He kissed her again and left.
“The key is glowing!” William shook the key at the Seraphs. He made his way to the writing desk, key hovering near the lock.
“That is not for you to open,” said Dorian.
“Didn’t the proclamation read by King Lamel state that Dagon would be stationed in the field?” said Raglen.
“Yes, it did,” said Mystil. “But he’s heading to …”
“The Glynns,” said Dorian. He leaned his hands against the windowsill and slumped his shoulders.
“The proclamation has been altered,” said Magethna. Her quill moved furiously across the paper.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said William. He stood next to the window. “Dorian, what is that supposed to mean?”
Dorian stared down at his hands. “It means Dagon altered the proclamation. Mark will be taken tonight.”
“No, that’s not going to happen,” said William. He backed away from the window.
“William, it’s already too late,” said Dorian.
“No! We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” He turned on his heel and raced out the door.
Magethna and the other Seraphs exchanged glances and followed him.
William thundered downstairs, passing his parents, who were sitting on the sofa, heads lowered and holding hands. Without a word, William bolted toward his car.
Dagon leaned against a large oak tree in the Glynns’ front yard, watching Mark mill around inside the house with his friend. Glancing back in Mary’s direction, he took out a cigarette. The nicotine failed to calm him this time. Leaving Mary stung. Through a screen of smoke, he planted a thought in Mark’s mind. “Mark, come out, I have something to show you.”
Sure enough, Mark appeared in the window, squinting in Dagon’s direction. Dagon felt a pang at how young Mark looked, especially in light of what was about to happen. Out of the mist of smoke, Dagon beckoned to Mark. A moment later, like all curious children, Mark walked out but kept some distance away from Dagon.
“Your friend isn’t here.” Dagon flicked out the cigarette and stepped toward Mark.
“Why are you here?” Mark backed up and almost fell over.
“You know, you’re the only one who ever asks the right questions. Bring me the Stone.”
“I know you. You’re the homeless man who sleeps in the park.”
Dagon glance down at himself. “You’ve seen me in the park? You’re a gifted lad indeed.”
Mark started to shake. “But I’ve seen you somewhere else … you are …”
“Dagon, Guardian of Light. The star of your dream.” Dagon bowed with a flourish.
“This can’t be. That was just a dream.”
“Well, it’s happening. Tell me, would you like to see your dad again?”
“My dad is …”
“Dead. But with the Stone, you can possibly see him again. Go fetch it. You’re the only one who can.”
“I can’t. The key doesn’t work. Besides, my Uncle Henry has the key.”
“We don’t have time for all your problems. Now go get it. Your family …”
“What about my family?”
“Your family has been lying to you. The key works for the bearer of the Stone, and that’s you. The Stone and the key work together.”
In a blink of black vapor, King Lamel appeared between them. He pointed the smoky tip of his sword at the Glynns’ house. Dagon could hear Mark’s heart pounding as Mark’s eyes darted between Lamel and Dagon.
“If you want your friends to live, you’ll get that Stone,” said Lamel.
With a cry, Mark ran down Forest Avenue in the direction of his house.
“Remember your father,” Dagon called after him.
The three Shadow Kings and their entourage appeared like smoke from the concrete of Forest Avenue.
With grating hisses, the Shadow Kings ordered the shadow soldiers to kneel, which they did in obedient unison. King Lamel told the shadows to lie down and sink partially into the ground, creating what looked like holes. The three kings took the form of road barriers and staggered themselves along the street.
Even for shadows, the pageantry impressed Dagon as they transformed themselves into obstacles.
Dagon then relayed to Mar
y what to say, for Mark approached.
“Hey, the road is completely closed ahead. You’ll have to go across the street and walk through the field to get to where you’re going,” said Mary, strangely calm.
Mark panted and searched both directions then ran across Forest Avenue and into the field.
Dagon watched him trudge along, for in some places the grass was high, and beneath the grass lay hidden snares of brambles and thorny weeds.
The wind violently churned around Mark.
A scream rang out. “Who can help you now?” The sound of shattering glass echoed in the winds.
Even the music blaring in Mary's ears couldn’t possibly keep out this nightmarish sound. Mary hunched down, her curls whipping her in the face.
Mark walked faster when a soft purring sound pierced the night air. Dagon sneered when he saw Henry’s only son, William. clutching the steering wheel. He sure has an irritating knack of showing up at the wrong time.
The wind picked up, causing William to grip the wheel tighter. William’s eyes diverted to Mark.
You’ll see how it feels to not be able to help those you love. Dagon glowered at William, then dodged an empty cigarette pack blowing into his face. “Not the best time for a smoke.”
“Boss, something’s going on over here.”
“I can hear everything!” Mary screamed.
Dagon scrambled to come up with a way to intercede. He had an idea, maybe not a good one, and maybe kind of corny, but an idea none-the-less.
“Just keep repeating over and over again how much I love you … I can’t control …”
“Dagon loves me, Dagon loves me ...” Mary kept repeating and then she changed the wording. “I love Dagon, I love Dagon.”
“That works, too,” said Dagon.
Mary nodded her head and continued switching her words every so often between, “Dagon loves me,” and, “I love Dagon.”
“No chanting will protect your sight. Now you will see my power commence,” Savila said.
“I can see everything! My eyes are closed, but ... Dagon, help me!”
“Luv, I can’t … all be over … baby, I ...” his words blew away on the wind.
Sledge searched for anyone to stab, jab, or smash.
William parked the car and bolted out. He barely took a few steps when the wind blew him backward.
Mary clenched her eyelids shut and put her hands over her ears.
All Dagon’s planning was trumped by Savila. Dagon swore.
Hideous screaming shrilled through the field.
I can’t believe I used that word. What else can go wrong?
Mary frantically changed songs. Quick blurbs of singers whooshed by.
Dagon hoped she would find a comforting song. He listened to a song about devils running.
You’ve got to be joking … a song like that?
“Mark, don't look back! Run, just run!” said William.
“William, help me!” Mark screamed, thorns and thistles snagging Mark’s clothes and skin as he ran through the tall prairie grass.
“Mark!” William braced his body against the wind.
“You are not alone.” Magethna touched William’s shoulder, which caused him to jump.
The Seraphs held their swords up, ready for a battle already lost.
Dagon bristled. “Trying to change prophecy now, are we?” he shouted at them through the fury. “Now all of you will know how this feels. Not being able to control events for those you care about!”
And then Savila stood before Dagon, sword at his sternum. Her triumphant eyes bearing into his heart. “You know that feeling better than anyone.”
The wind flew in violent gusts all around him. But for Dagon, the moment silenced everything around him as Savila eased the tip of her sword into the skin over his heart. He heard Mary scream his name. Then Mr. Cool and Friar knocked him to the ground. The air came rushing into his lungs.
“We got you, boss,” Mr. Cool knelt over him, a hand over the red stain darkening the white of his shirt. Dorian and Magethna now stood between Dagon and Savila, the other two Seraphs flanking them.
“This is a violation of the contract, Savila,” Dorian’s voice boomed through the velocity of the wind. His sword and Magethna’s raised at the ready.
“Not at all, dear Dorian,” Savila’s eyes narrowed as she examined the blood on the tip of her sword. “Lunion is dead. Have you ever wondered how one kills the immortal?”
Dorian and Magethna stared at Savila, then they both turned to look at Dagon. Dagon scrambled to his feet, Mr. Cool and Friar bracing him on either side. His eyes searched and found Mark, still clawing his way through the field, William desperately trying to reach him but failing.
Although Mark was losing his fight to escape, all Seraphic eyes had locked onto Dagon.
“Let me show you,” said Savila. In one slow arc, she sliced her blade at the nearest Seraph.
“Mystil!” cried Magethna.
Mystil brought her sword up just in time to block Savila’s blow. Savila flashed her sword horizontally as Mystil parried and pivoted away, the tip of Savila’s blade grazing Mystil’s upper arm. Mystil stumbled, confusion on her face as she touched the thin red line on her sleeve. She fell to her knees.
Dorian and Magethna rushed to her side as the fourth Seraph, Raglen, caught her and eased her to the ground.
In that moment, Dagon’s vision darkened, and he realized he couldn’t breathe. The battlefield at Agincourt covered his vision.
“King Lunion desires your title,” whispered Savila into Dagon’s ear. She caressed his neck with the tip of an arrow.
Dagon didn’t even flinch as she drew blood. Drew blood.
“No,” Dagon breathed, the horror of the present crashing back into his brain.
“She’s gone,” said Raglen, disbelief aging his ageless face. “She’s dead.”
Mystil disintegrated into ashes and disappeared.
“All this time,” whispered Dagon. “I thought you had enchanted the arrow that killed Lunion. My blood. That’s why you keep me alive. My blood kills Seraphs.”
“Ahh,” said Savila. “A little slow, but we’re catching up. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Dagon. Filtered just right, your blood heals.”
As she spoke, the blood, his blood, traveled in rivulets down her sword, through the hilt, and up through her hand, smoothing her wrinkled skin until it glowed.
Dagon turned to Magethna. His vision blurred. “I didn’t know. I swear to you, I did not know.”
Magethna reached out as if to touch his face. “Tears. You’re crying, Dagon.”
“Don’t,” said Dorian, pulling Magethna back. “A Seraph with tears? Another Seraph dead? This is all impossible, and yet … we don’t know what you are, Dagon.”
Mary paled, leaned over, and dry heaved.
Smoke chased Mark, smoke with fluorescent eyes. The smoke thickened and then moved in waves like shadowy dominoes.
William moved into the field then stopped. An unseen barrier prevented him from moving further.
“Do something!” William screamed at the Seraphs.
Magethna sheathed her sword, the other Seraphs following suit, their defeat way more painful than Dagon had ever imagined.
“Mark, run!” said William. He collapsed, clawing at the unseen barrier.
The Seraphs abandoned Dagon and ran to William. Magethna wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Mark fell, and hands of smoke dragged him away.
In a violent wrench, Mary finally threw up.
“Please let me go! Please! Ahh! Help me!”
“Mark? Mark! Where are you? Oh, my God, help us!” said William.
Mary yelled out, “Leave him alone! Let him go! Dagon, help him! Someone, please help him!”
Savila laughed. The wind drowned out Mary’s cries.
Mary grabbed her hair at the temples and hands shook rapidly. “Not again, please not again.”
Dagon was torn. Mark’s capture would help free them, but to hear Mary scream and watch her be sick was dreadful. Her hidden past pierced his chest and caused him pain. His own pain engulfed him at the realization of his cursed blood. Mary had signed the agreement and told him she understood, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
Dagon heard Mark’s last words in the Second Land as claws came out of the smoke.
“William, hel—”
The smoky claws grabbed Mark as the field split open, and they dragged him down, Savila and her army vanishing with him.
Mary shook, kneeling in the alley. Sledge stood next to her. He glanced between her and Dagon.
To Dagon, Mark’s cries for help had sounded more like “hell.” Dagon was helpless.
The gusty wind subsided into a lonely breeze. Dagon wanted to run toward Mary, who sat trembling, but he stood in place, not even taking a step.
“Dagon cannot leave the field,” said Magethna. “The barrier goes both ways.”
William faced Dagon. “You knew all along, didn’t you? That’s why you went to the Glynns’. Guardian of the Light! You can’t guard anything. You can’t protect anybody.”
Dagon said nothing.
“Your silence is your witness and your judge, and you are found guilty,” said William.
The Seraphs witnessed every incriminating thing. William had spoken the truth, for even with all his powers, Dagon could not save Mary. He could not save anyone.
“That woman saw and heard everything,” said William pointing at Mary. “Now she’s sitting in darkness, and you have destroyed her life.”
Still, Dagon remained silent. He let the tears fall, not bothering to wipe them away.
“You, who willingly agreed to Savila’s plot, started what has now been fulfilled. His family, my parents, will grieve in hopeless darkness. This should shred your heart if you even have one. It would have been better if the One Voice had never created you at all to spare them from what just happened. Can’t you talk? You got nothing to say?”
With all the destructive words William shot at him, Dagon held to the notion that with silence, there is dignity, for at least this hole won’t dig itself deeper.
