Black Magic

by D B Nielsen

  Walt’s voice was edged with dry amusement. “The girl does have a point. You might as well go around saying, ‘Look at me. Look at me’, with all your self-righteous, ‘I am the Angel of Light’ talk. It’s a wee bit sanctimonious, my lad.”

  “Enough!” Nathan roared. “What does an angel have to do around here to get a little respect? I know who I am. And I know my duty.”

  At that, Nathan’s body began to shine like a polished jewel, gleaming in the moonlight. His pale face, as bright as a flash of lightning, burned against the blaze of his dark eyes. Wings of shimmering pearly white unfurled from his shoulder blades, and scalloped feathered wingtips of a span far greater than twice his body length stretched toward the heavens.

  “Let me do my job.”

  “Well, it’s about bloody time,” Walt said, satisfied.

  She should have been scorched by his sudden blaze, but not even the tips of her hair were singed. The Archangel held out his hands in an act of benediction. Sound poured forth, poignant and powerful. The angel’s voice boomed around her like the roar of a great crowd, reverberating across the city, filling every particle of air and water, everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was a pure note that rose above all Earthly sound.

  His voice engulfed Aislinn and she threw her hands over her ears as he finally raised his head, briefly locking eyes with her. The temptation to fall into those strange, glittering eyes—against all reason pitch dark like falling into an abyss when the world was nothing in its first creation—held her enthralled.

  He did not draw his sword, yet Aislinn felt the danger he projected and hastily stepped back against the ramparts. The sinuous, pure-white source of light energy that moved through the angel’s body made him appear to pulse, like a beacon of seraphic light in the darkness.

  Dust and debris started to lift from the ground against the pull of gravity. Rain ran in reverse. The shards of Aislinn’s skean rose into the air and, against the strength of the force tugging at it, the hilt flew out of her frail grasp.

  Aislinn cried out in shocked dismay and sudden fear, falling to the ground. Her body was buffeted by an extraordinary, chaotic force. She rolled to her feet near the edge of the Bloody Tower and held on to solid stone. Shielding her eyes, she could no longer bear to look upon his brilliance. Her skin felt astonishingly hot, as if it was ready to burn and blister under his radiance.

  Unexpectedly, a cool, black veil was dropped over her with a slight tingling sensation, but she briefly caught the flicker of the orange-blue and white flame now burning brightly in Nathan’s hands. Somehow, she intuitively knew that these were forged from sun and moon, the chief heavenly lights in creation. Sparks flew from the skean as if it were laid on an invisible anvil and an immortal blacksmith was hammering the shards back into shape.

  Behind the dark veil, she was protected from the seraphic light which burst forth.

  The Archangel was lit with an inner radiance like a furnace, growing in strength until he burned brightly against the night. He could not shed his kinetic energy until, like the spark that ignited the flame, it was released with a big bang as if stars collided above.

  Then all the fires went out and she was smothered in the protective darkness again. She could hear only the bang of blood in her ears, still covered by her hands. Her blood was racing in her veins and she felt alive to the elements for the first time in centuries, experiencing both heat and cold which permeated her skin, causing her to shiver.

  Aislinn assumed this was the Archangel’s doing, but it was Walt who was careful to ensure she was spared the seraphic light that burned so brilliantly from Nathan’s form, knowing she would not have survived its intensity.

  And through it all, the archangel’s blood called to her. She could feel it as if she was drowning, and the night sky rippling, and the stars fading. All she knew as her skean was re-forged was that the blood in her veins responded to the archangel’s light. Every cell in her body felt like it was flowering, blooming, bursting. Her blood moved so rapidly in the endless ebb and flow of time, she thought she would die.

  But she didn’t die.

  Instead, there was a sudden, soft hush. The world quieted. The rains abated.

  There was a faint, tinted glow from the first stirrings of the sun which still hovered below the horizon, and the diamond-lit velvet sky was noticeably paler as the stars began to wink and disappear, one by one.

  The protective veil slid from her form unnoticed.

  Aislinn’s eyes locked with the archangel. She blinked in confusion as if awakening from a dream. She dropped her hands from her ears and straightened. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

  Chapter 3

  “That’s the way to do it, my lad. Good work. But we’re on the clock. Time is a-ticking. Gotta keep to the schedule. Guess I’ll be seeing you in Etherean when you’re done here, but play nice with the little girlie vamp.” Walt gave a hearty laugh, showing his approval, and with another wink and a spark, he disappeared.

  Aislinn didn’t notice the bright spark signaling the departure of Nathan’s guardian angel as she didn’t take her eyes from him. She stared fixedly at Nathan, though it was difficult to read her expression.

  Nathan returned the stare, noting from her dilated eyes that her feelings were warring within her. She looked confused and slightly apprehensive, as if she believed he could read her mind. It didn’t surprise Nathan as he was used to other creatures quailing before him when he revealed his true self, but his amusement was almost perfectly balanced against his annoyance. It took a lot to impress this vampire.

  Some inner devil prompted him—maybe it was Walt’s mocking instructions—but he felt the desire to tease her. He preferred her feisty, angry, spitting fire from those bright blue eyes, not vulnerable and fragile—though he wasn’t quite sure why.

  Lips quirking at the corners, Nathan held aloft the re-forged skean in his outstretched hands. “Nicely balanced. A good weight. I’ve made a few modifications. So, I suppose you don’t want this back then?”

  Startled, she stared at the mended dagger in disbelief, her eyes widening. “Wait! What?” With a small exclamation that sounded like the piercing cry of a bird, Aislinn stumbled forward with none of her usual poise, reaching out toward the shining blade. Its sharp edge caught the starlight and moonlight as if it continued to absorb the heavenly light of the celestial objects above. “OMV! I—I can’t—Why did you—? How? I mean—”

  “What you mean to say is ‘thank you’.” There was a mixture of glee and exasperation in his voice. People were usually down on their knees by now, beating their breasts, and praising the Lord. A little bit of gratitude here wasn’t uncalled for.

  But she was grateful. She just didn’t know how to express it.

  Aislinn’s tears softened the edges of her vision, blurring together as they pricked at her eyes. They fell freely but dried before they had time to run down her pale cheeks. She felt her flesh tingle with an excess of sensitivity as if pummeled repeatedly like in vampire boot camp, but she had never felt so relieved and—joyful. On boneless legs, she trembled as she paused in the act of taking the skean from Nathan’s outstretched hands.

  “Is this a trick? Vampires can’t touch seraph blades.” Her tone was apprehensive. She didn’t trust him, but her expression held a deep longing.

  “No trick. This weapon is special. You can touch this blade.”

  Longing won out. She accepted him at his word.

  What Nathan didn’t tell her was that this special seraph blade had been re-forged for Aislinn alone, for use by the daughter of Kayne, a vampire, according to divine decree. Only the Lord knew its ultimate purpose.

  “How?” Her voice cracked with emotion as she touched the bright hair binding the hilt which shone a rich, red auburn, a fiery emblem of her sister’s spirit. “Why?”

  “By the Lord’s will.” It was the only answer he could give. And it was the truth.

  She looked at Nathan, her ey
es uncertain. He was hauntingly beautiful, even with retracted wings. And he was incredibly arrogant and condescending.

  “By his will? Why would your god do this?”

  He didn’t have an answer that would satisfy her.

  “Turn away from this path you have chosen. You cannot trust the dark mage and his false promises,” Nathan said in deep, low tones of caution. He may not know God’s plans, but he acted upon the instructions given to him, and recited the Lord’s message to the vengeful vampire. “Only the Lord has the true power to bring death and make alive. He brings down to the grave and raises up. He reserves for himself all authority.”

  Aislinn’s head reared back as if struck. Turn away? Why give me back my skean and then demand I turn away? She had spent her entire immortal life bent on vengeance. She had been emptied and filled up with blood rage and hate by Kayne. There was no going back.

  Nathan looked at her with pity.

  Pity. Her mouth was dry. The blood pounded in her ears. She could handle almost anything from him but not pity.

  Damn you.

  “Then why? Where was your god when my sister was murdered? Why did he let an innocent die? What kind of benevolent, loving god is that? Only Kayne answered my prayers.” Aislinn gave a bitter laugh of disbelief, but he could sense her underlying distress.

  “Aislinn—” Nathan tried to interrupt the torrent of words spilling from her lips, without success.

  “Don’t Aislinn me! So now your god intercedes? Well, it’s a bit late for that. People are dead.” She thought back to Primae Noctis and winced. “This is my path. It’s the only one I’ve ever known.”

  Nathan looked at the vampire clutching her fists angrily, one hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger he had repaired as if she would like to plunge it into his heart. Her chest heaved. Her eyes were wide and wet and filled with a deep bitterness.

  Inwardly, he sighed. The Lord’s benevolence was always given in this manner. She had the ability to choose the righteous path. Even a vampire had choice and could exercise free will.

  Walt had instructed him to play nice with the little girlie vamp. Easier said than done. The aggressive nature of the daughter of Kayne made him long for a drink. Not that he was going to get one here, realizing he was on top of the Bloody Tower and there were no pubs that served Etherean wine in sight.

  Still, he couldn’t help but pity her. She was still so young despite her almost one thousand years on Earth. She knew next to nothing. It was his job to enlighten her.

  “Aislinn. Stop. Your sister’s soul is safe and treasured. She is happy. And loved. She is made whole and complete in Etherean. Would you have her return like Lazarus, dazed and dreaming of a Heaven he was forced to leave? Would you tear her from her home and leave her stranded here on Earth where everything is painful and violent? Would you have her stumble through the interminable, meaningless moments and vicissitudes of life, knowing what she has lost?”

  Silence.

  Then Aislinn laughed. It was a bitter, dark laugh, and her eyes flashed obsidian. “Yes! Why must I suffer alone? You cannot know what it is like to lose someone you love. If you had, you would move Heaven and Earth to have them back.”

  “Is that what you call love?” Nathan countered.

  The blood rage flashed briefly in her eyes. Her expression of remembered love and loyalty awakened an aching sensation in Nathan’s chest which he ruthlessly suppressed. He was here for the vampire, not himself. Do the Lord’s bidding. Obey His will. Reason not the need.

  “Your god wants us all to endure our suffering to be worthy of him and worthy of Etherean. How selfish is that? I may never know what Etherean is like, but I have experienced all that Hell holds.” Her eyes were tormented. He could see she believed every word she was saying. “I watched Sorcha die and could do nothing. I am guilty of failing her. And I compounded my guilt by avenging her loss upon my clann, even the innocent babes. My eternity is a nightmare of their accusing, sorrowful faces. Every one of them.” When she finished speaking, the blood rage leached out of her, leaving her an empty, hollow shell.

  Nathan was moved by her impassioned speech but didn’t show it, apart from the narrowing of his eyes. He was surprised that a vampire might have a conscience. The idea was a novel one since the daughter of Kayne was reputed to have one of the darkest hearts. The Aislinn she had once been was dead, and the vampire she was now was everything her human self was not.

  This Aislinn was known in Etherean as a stone-cold ice queen. This Aislinn was a killer. This Aislinn was a badass vampire, sharpened like the razor edge of a blade to be an instrument of destruction by both Kayne and the other vampires who trained her, re-forged just like the skean she now held in her hand, but with an evil and darkness that filled her with hate and blood rage.

  But try as he might to categorize her, she didn’t quite fit the mold. She was proving a problem for him. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. He wanted to know what made this vampire different from all the rest, and what God’s plan for her was, even though it wasn’t his business. Walt had told him before he had accepted this mission to just do the job, that he was mistaken in her, but he was seldom wrong about things.

  And yet, she should have been like the very vampire who turned her. She should have been emptied of grief and guilt and self-loathing. She should have been filled to the brim with a white-hot vengeance or a cold apathy. Yet here she was, defending herself to him. Her ardent self-blame stirred Nathan—though he wondered if it was a cunning trick.

  Unaware of his musings, Aislinn continued to hiss fiercely, “I see you don’t believe me. But even if you believe my feelings to be false now, they were real once. I was human once. I know what it means to be human, so don’t you dare judge me.”

  Nathan wondered about that too. It was true that vampires had an infallible memory, yet they were turned into monsters who were emptied completely of the inner torment that joyful and poignant memories brought, emptied of the profound emotions which accompanied the memories. It was the price of being a vampire.

  Compassion wormed its way into his chest.

  Vampires were changeless. Once turned, they could never revert to their human state. He felt sorry for any being who could no longer experience the fullness of humanity. Even the shapeshifters knew what it was like to be human, and the other species on Esper experienced humanlike emotions.

  That was the beauty of humanity, he’d always thought. Change. Re-invention. Re-discovery. A constant and continual becoming of self.

  And yet the daughter of Kayne was more human than many of the humans he had known. He had sat atop the clouds and conversed with the prophets. He had visited shepherds, fishermen, and carpenters and brought them the good news from the Lord. But this vampire reminded him of the Lord’s wanderers, like Noah and Job who wrestled with their burdens, though he wasn’t quite certain why.

  He stared fixedly at the daughter of Kayne who so passionately protected those she cared about and felt strangely like he was—Alone.

  Her passionate declaration made him feel—What?

  A strange bitterness. Almost like—Envy?

  But that was absurd! Unlike those pure souls who became angels through death and their transition to Etherean, he had always been an angel. It was all he knew. He was born for this purpose alone.

  And she was his mission.

  Get the job done, Nathan.

  “Do not take revenge, daughter of Kayne. Leave that to the righteous anger of God. For the Lord says, ‘I will take revenge. I will pay them back.’ Do not attempt to usurp God’s prerogative.” Delivering these final words, Nathan launched himself into the pre-dawn, twilit sky.

  Mimicking her earlier movement, Aislinn threw up an arm to shield her eyes from the radiant, blustery assault as she looked up. She felt a rush of feathered wings above her head as the brilliant angel returned to his home in Etherean.

  An aching sensation grew in Aislinn’s chest as she watched him retreat. Within seconds, he wa
s little more than a shooting star ricocheting across the horizon, blending, blurring into the mystery of the distant darkness.

  Aislinn remained earthbound and alone.

  From high above, almost against his will, Nathan looked down and, with perfect vision, saw in minute detail the platinum-blonde vampire looking up at the sky. A frail, solitary figure, like the evening star, preparing to wink and disappear from view on its nightly course.

  The ache in his chest was now unbearable. He should never have looked back.

  Lot’s wife had suffered the consequences of such folly, and in his own way, he wondered if he would too.

  He was an Archangel—who dreamed of no longer being alone.

  Chapter 4

  A year later…

  “It is always a pleasure to welcome you back, Prima Aislinn, and Benjamin too, of course. It has been far too long, and for that, I do apologize.” The Minter ushered Aislinn and Benjamin into his office, nodding at his apprentice, Dominic, to organize refreshments for their esteemed guest and her companion. Despite the urgency of his request for their visit, the Minter seemed in no hurry to inform them why they were summoned here.

  “Thank you, Minter,” Aislinn said. “We came as soon as we received your call. We hope that there have been no further incidents since we last visited.” She referred to the attempted security breach that had occurred almost a year ago.

  Her voice was calm and level, but she experienced a surge of dread that something might have happened at the Minter’s establishment that they hadn’t anticipated or prepared for, especially since Caleb was absent from the London Coven and couldn’t assist them if anything went wrong.

  She felt the need to clarify. “There have been no further reports of unusual activity at any of the coven’s holdings or establishments, and sightings of the dark mages have been insignificant. Most often these reports are erroneous since the dark mages went into hiding.” Silently, bitterly, she added, “with the help of Styx” and rued the day she had learned of the business deal made between the Druids and the demon to bring back the dead.