by Hunter Blain
I closed my eyes and sent my essence into her head, searching for the injury. It didn’t take long to find the section Ludvig had healed, but as he had guessed, there was still a section of damaged tissue that hadn’t been disposed of. It was blocking an alarming portion of blood flow to her brain, so I zapped it into atoms while mentally going, Pew! Pew! Heh.
Careful, Baleius reminded me. You could have flash fried her brain if you’d used too much energy.
Lilith, man! Now you tell me.
At the mention of my usual curse, I could feel Baleius just staring at the back of my head while in the control room of my mind.
I’m not going to stop saying it. It’s mine. And I’m not going to let the situation change things for me. Ya feel me?
Even though it was a question, it wasn’t meant for Baleius, and he knew that.
Lilith damn it! Lilith damn it! Lilith fucking damn it! I repeated over and over again between tight lips.
Your friend is waking up, Baleius interrupted.
Oh...good!
I returned my consciousness to normal and looked down to see Hayley slowly blinking unfocused blue eyes at me.
“Hey, dipshit,” I whispered with a smile.
“Uughhn,” Hayley groaned as both hands went up to rest on her face, probably from the light and not my beautiful mug only a foot away. “What’s up, Edward. Am I dead or what?” she drawled through her palms.
“Edward?”
“Don’t fucking play with me,” Hayley demanded as her hands slipped down her face to rest on her stomach. “You know damn well who I mean, sparkle-pants.”
“How are you feeling?” Doc Jim hurriedly asked as I formulated an epic bomb of a response for the warden who had just been brought back from the precipice of death.
“Like a bag of dicks.”
Doc and I flicked our gazes to one another, trying to determine if that was a bad thing or not. I mean, having a penis was nice, if you asked me. You got to pee standing up!
“Sooo...” I began, “Good? Great, even?”
“I hate you,” Hayley moaned as she tried to push herself up to a seated position only to discover the magic floating bed. “What the rubber pants?”
“Rubber pants?”
“Can you just tell me about the magic bed, please?” Hayley barked, trying to force her palms to the metal.
“It is magic! Because of, um, a die and, um, magnets...and Taylor.”
Doc Jim just shook his head and pushed a button on the bed. Hayley was gently lowered down, and she successfully pushed herself up to a seated position.
“Hey, Doc, what did Taylor charge you for this magic that is comparable to a nuclear reactor?”
“He didn’t.”
“Oh?”
“I am a loyal customer to the Fae, and it was a gift.”
“Gift, huh? You two seem...to be awfully good buddies.”
“And if we are?” he challenged, crossing his arms. That threw me off. A million questions ran through my mind like an out-of-control subway train clanging off the walls of the tunnel.
“You’re not, um...” I began, lifting my hand and then letting my wrist go limp.
“Gay?”
“Yeah. That word. I mean, it would explain Drew up front.”
“No, John, I am not gay. And Drew is my grandson.”
The uncalled-for train of thought in my brain derailed as all the passengers screamed before burning alive in the crash and inexplicable explosion.
“HA!” Hayley barked, backhanding me in the gut as she scooted off the bed. “Dude, that’s embarrassing. Way to be a bigoted dick.”
“It was just a question,” I mumbled to myself awkwardly as I rubbed where she had struck, not out of pain but reflex. My brain was trying to find any survivors of my faulty train of thought instead of coming up with a simple apology. There were no survivors.
“Glad to see you are feeling better, Warden Broadway,” Doc Jim said, intentionally segueing out of the wreckage of my blunder. Bless that man for giving me a reprieve from my blatant lack of social cues. It wasn’t that I had a problem with him if he were gay. Far from it! It was more that I wasn’t very good at asking people outside my circle personal questions that I knew weren’t any of my business. I would have been just as awkward asking him how many times a day he used the bathroom. Sometimes my mouth got away from me and just blurted out things I didn’t mean to say.
“Thanks doctor. So, ah, what happened...exactly?” Hayley asked, rubbing her eyes with the thumb and fingers of one hand while the other rested on her hip.
“Welp,” I started in my usual tone before an image from my daymares burst through my psyche like a sledgehammer thrown through a pane of glass. Pieces of my heart shattered as I dropped to my knees, clutching at my chest. “I’m scared,” reverberated through every synapse of my brain as if a sickening echo was building on itself until it was an incoherent din of sorrow that drowned my soul.
Joey stared at me with his one good eye as the noise reversed in on itself, swallowing into a ravenous hole like water down a drain. Silence rang out before Joey whispered, “I’m scared,” while Depweg screamed for God’s help next to me.
“God’s not here,” Ulric had corrected.
“John? John! What’s wrong?!” Warden Broadway was asking from somewhere miles away. It was as if I were submerged in the horrific memory of defeat and tragic loss, struggling to keep my head above the surface, but overwhelmed with the sheer grief that sloshed around me, throwing my mind around like a rag doll in a vortex.
I had failed, and it hurt. But it wasn’t only me who felt the pain. Depweg was a broken man because of me.
My failures were mounting up like a teetering pancake stack. The warm, flowing syrup formed from the inability to protect my friends, filling in every crack and crevasse.
Then my mind went still as the storm abated, having been satisfied with the destruction and devastation of my psyche. I was alone in the darkness of my thoughts, with only my heaving breaths as company as I lay crumpled and broken.
I came to and was surprised to see the clean tile floor staring up at me. It seemed to have a confused face on it. It took a moment to realize it was my own reflection staring back at me in the near mirror finish of the floor.
I must have been screaming because a large strand of drool strung from my face to a small puddle on the ground. Both my hands were extended out as if my body had reflexively caught my fall. I was on my knees, feeling as if my chest was going to cave in on itself, it was so tight. I couldn’t breathe, and lifted a hand to forcibly tug at my collar.
“Jo...Joey,” I whined, trying to suck in air past my constricted throat.
I could see Hayley’s reflection as she shot her eyes to the doc, who only closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
“Wh-where’s everyone else?” she asked.
“Locke is in the ba—” Doc Jim began before I interrupted, knowing exactly what she was asking.
“Ludvig is fine. He went to get supplies and will be back soon. He...he probably saved your life,” I said as I wiped my mouth. Pushing myself up on my haunches, I looked up at the warden whose eyes welled up as a trembling hand went to her chest, instant relief washing over her. I could understand her position, considering she had only just learned that the mission had suffered casualties. It was only natural that her brain reflexively shoot to the one she cared the most for.
For a reason I couldn’t possibly explain, a sudden and vehement sense of jealousy reared a green claw to rake at my slowly calming mind, feeling my loss of Lily more acutely at seeing how much Hayley already cared for Ludvig.
“It’s not fair,” I whispered harshly, closing my eyes and shaking my head as I felt my bottom lip quiver at the sheer volume of everything I was experiencing at once. Then I exploded in rage, “IT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR!” My fist exploded through the tile, sending shards bouncing in the one-by-one section I had destroyed. To his credit, Doc Jim didn’t say anything, knowing I w
ould cover the cost.
“No one ever said it would be fair, abomination,” a new voice announced. It was a deep, raspy whisper with a razor’s edge to it. The thought of a death metal vocalist trying to barely be heard came to mind.
I opened my eyes and saw a fully armored angel standing at full height that I took to be of the arch persuasion. His celestial suit was one that belonged on a person in charge, adorned with meticulously detailed images over the parts that were gold. I couldn’t see clearly what they were depicting, but understood the overall concept. Much like Ludvig’s wands, it was clear that this armor had taken an agonizingly long time to craft.
A battle-worn golden mask stared with emotionless features from under a hood of ivory. There were dints, scratches, and even a gash that ran down the right eye. A halo of pulsating energy arced overhead, effervescently shifting between white and amber. Wings comprised completely of gleaming gold instead of white feathers made me almost need to squint, and I wasn’t sure if they gave off their own light or were simply reflecting the sterile OR LEDs back at me. A scarred ivory breastplate etched with detailed musculature sat above fully armored legs, with a war-torn robe that went from armpits to knees on either side held in place by a golden belt that was adorned with angelic sigils.
In the center of his chest was a glowing cross the same roiling colors as his halo.
Satisfied with his entrance, the newcomer folded his wings while a thick hand reached up to the expressionless mask that gave me the creeps. With a pop, the mask was freed (theatrically, I might add), and a handsome face marred with scars regarded me with glowing white eyes. I couldn’t see his pupils or irises, only a steady radiance. His chin was chiseled enough to make even Ludvig blush. The cut in the mask apparently was more than superficial, as the archangel before me had a matching line running down his right eye.
Judging by his actions thus far, gaudy armor, and the fact that he was at full archangel height, I knew this was a self-assured asshole who was not here to be my friend. Gabriel had zero problem reducing himself to mortal size and losing the armor in favor of a nice business suit. What worried me, though, was that this being had seen endless combat in his time and wore the markings like a badge of honor.
“Let me guess,” I drawled in annoyance, pushing myself up to my feet. “Michael. Am I right?”
“You dare speak my name, abomination?” Michael aggressively whispered. It was as if he were blowing out a steady stream of air and simply using his mouth to form words rather than precise bursts one would normally use when speaking.
“I can call you Susan if you like,” I countered, crossing my arms as I stared up at this impressive angelic specimen.
“You would do well to hold your tongue,” Michael growled as he lowered his head in a direct, threatening gesture. It was akin to a wolf preparing to attack by limiting direct access to its vulnerable throat.
“Oh, Baleius says hi, by the by,” I added with a shit-eating grin.
“That is precisely why I am here, fool.” His voice, though a raspy whisper, projected a strength to it, as if he was trying not to explode our primitive skulls with the awesome power of his full speaking voice. “Do not go back to Hell. Do not go to Sheol. You cannot save those who are damned, and will only succeed in bringing death to all of creation.”
“What about Raziel? Hmm? You know, your brother? What about him, big guy?”
“Raziel made his choice when he allied himself with you,” Michael answered, leveling a massive finger in my direction, accusingly. “He suffers the fate he chose because of you, abomination.”
That. Pissed. Me. Off.
I could feel my right hand twitching, asking permission to summon my gladius without waiting for direct orders from my brain. My eyes and gums ached insanely while on the verge of changing as my breathing quickened.
Fuck it.
My eyes glowed crimson, fangs elongated, and celestial gladius bloomed into angry existence all while my armor shimmered to life. I was vaguely aware that my blade was wafting both heavenflame and hellfire.
Bastard! Baleius growled with one hand on the wheel as he glared with hate-filled eyes out of the control room at his brother.
“Ah...brother. There you are,” the archangel purred with a wry grin before rhetorically asking, “How’d you sneak out of your prison?”
In response to manifesting my sword, Michael summoned the most awesome weapon I had ever seen in my five centuries of life.
A golden staff with glowing sigils shot out in either direction of Michael’s armored fist. At the bottom, melting the floor tiles, was a glowing blade the size of my entire gladius, while at the other end was some sort of double ax with mirrored, swooping blades that reminded me of wings, and another, longer, gladius at the top. Barely restrained power arced from the four blades like solar flares being yanked back into the gravity of the sun just after trying to rocket out into space. They were absolutely blinding to look at. The air crackled from the immense heat as Michael’s halo, weapon, and cross upon his breastplate all roiled with barely restrained celestial power bestowed by God himself.
Doubt crept into my heart as I felt the unmistakable yearning to cleave my head off emanating from this archangel of Heaven. Michael’s face remained stoic while his eyes continued to glow white from under a scowling brow.
Stubbornness mixed with Baleius’ raw fury renewed my resolve.
“Whatcha gonna do, big guy? Start Armageddon?” I challenged, taking a step forward in defiance.
Michael brought the weapon to bear, pointing it in my direction. I could hear the energy pulsating off the blades in a slow, continuous whomp whomp whomp.
“I don’t need to cleave your soul from your flesh to teach you a lesson, abomination,” Michael said with words that dripped in vicious delight. It fucking creeped me out. “No, I could simply remove your head and put it in a box where I would gaze upon your hubris at will for the remainder of eternity.”
My mind flashed to Locke’s head in the cardboard box that Gabriel had delivered, and I knew that Michael would be able to literally do as he threatened.
I took a step back while gulping, feeling my breath catch in my throat. The angel smiled at my show of submission.
“Maybe I would let your mother and father visit you once a millennium, right as you forgot their faces.”
My world went red as something snapped in my mind. The cords in my neck stood out as I took heaving breaths of rage. I was going to teach this fucker a lesson in manners.
From my peripheral vision, I saw the doc back into some steel cabinets, and decided to take this fight elsewhere.
I raised a hand to face Michael, palm out, and swiped the air between us like batting at an insect. The world shifted like a fresh painting doused in thinner and turned sideways with an industrial-strength fan blowing the melting scene away.
Brown sand was everywhere. Black rocks stuck out from the sea of dirt with a hazy sky overhead that wasn’t quite the right color. In an instant, I knew where I had taken us.
My voice came out in a shallow, slightly higher-pitched tone in the planet’s atmosphere.
“Welcome to Mars, bitch. Please enjoy your stay,” I growled as I blurred forward with my gladius blazing.
Michael’s mask evaporated in his hands, and a scarred, expressionless golden face shimmered to its rightful position to stare back at me. Around his head, a thick white hood was firmly held in place as if with the universe’s strongest starch.
Golden wings exploded out, blinding me with their magnificence as a blur of energy swept the air toward me, sending out a violent arc of power.
Without knowing how, I was all of a sudden behind the angel, and charged him with my shoulder like I was trying to knock down a door. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t strike with my blade while the opportunity presented itself.
I slammed into the huge angel’s lower back and threw him forward several paces as he grunted in surprise.
Then he was gone, and I whir
led around to see him use the same technique on me, slamming his massive shoulder into my chest and throwing me through the air like a cannonball fired from a U.S. Navy warship. It was at that moment that I comprehended the fundamental differences in our strengths.
The world blurred into one steady stream of brown as I tumbled at impossible speeds just above the ground.
The air was knocked from my lungs and I felt my spine snap as a hand caught me by the front of my throat, halting my ludicrous momentum in an instant. I was aware of my feet kicking out in front of me, and a part of my mind played me the scene of one of my first lessons with Ulric: we were running through the forest after I had first been made, and I wasn’t yet accustomed to controlling my preternatural speed. Ulric had caught me by my neck, and my feet had tried to keep going like a flag waving in a strong wind.
Michael slammed me on the ground with his creepy, expressionless face, as a boulder I judged to be the size of a van shattered under me. The archangel brought the bottom of his weapon down to poke into my throat, scalding my skin with its intensity. I could almost feel the armor trying to negate the damage, but it was failing compared to the might that was the Archangel Michael.
As my spine healed and feeling returned to my limbs, I focused on Mjolnir springing to life and flying into Michael’s weapon at an angle. The tip located at the bottom of the weapon went through the ground next to me as my hammer bounced off the staff, and I rolled to the side as Mjolnir returned to my hand. Just before I completed a full spin to land on my back again, I threw my weapon at the expressionless face. It struck home, clanging off of Michael’s armored mask as he barked out in rage at being struck.
Shooting my legs up and behind me, I rolled backward to land on my feet in a cloud of dust, grabbing the hammer from the air as it flew back to me. I thrust Mjolnir toward the sky, focusing on the area beneath the archangel’s feet. The land exploded, sending Michael tumbling through the air, which, unfortunately, wasn’t a big deal for the combat-eager angel.
With massive golden wings, he course corrected almost immediately and swiped the air with his double-bladed ax, sending a wave of white, blue, and red heavenplasma rushing toward me.
