He fell to the bridge, the fallen angel slowly lowering as well, the wind whipping up around him.
The angel’s mask began to filter away, Lucian gasping when he saw that it wasn’t Azazyel, Lucian instantly recognizing the man.
It was Connor.
And he was laughing.
Lucian awoke feeling haggard yet recharged, angry and annoyed at what had just happened.
“Stupid dream,” he whispered to himself as he got out of bed and stepped out of his workshop.
“Report,” he told Hugin, who now hovered before him, Munin somewhere in the distance commanding injurecrows.
“There’s nothing to report,” said Hugin in its androgynous voice. “There have been no disturbances since we last spoke. Did you rest well?”
Lucian waved the question away, and conjured a cup of coffee.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” Lucian told his spherical creation, “it was just a bad dream. You know, I shouldn’t be having dreams, yet here I am, dreaming all sorts of wild shit.”
Figuring it couldn’t hurt, Lucian also conjured a pizza, which formed on the tray in front of him. He sipped from his coffee, and ate from his meat lover’s pizza, quiet for a moment.
“I know it looks weird,” Lucian finally told Hugin.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Sorry, I’m a little on edge today.”
Once he finished eating the pizza, he ate some chocolate, his robes cascading down his body.
Lucian rose into the air.
He felt like flying for a moment, so he turned in the direction of the empty city that his predecessor had created, which was now a crater.
There was nothing there now, and as he flew over it, his six Grim Mechas behind him, injurecrows to his right and left, Lucian couldn’t help but shake his head as he relived last night’s confession.
That got him thinking of how many times the truth had ruined situations across both the spiritual and tangible worlds, Lucian not certain if the truth really set anyone free.
Eventually, he got tired of flying and pressed his pinky and thumb together, appearing outside of the great tent that Old Death had erected in the desert on the outskirts of their shared refuge.
“I need you,” Lucian called into the tent instead of stepping inside, not really wanting to see the two cuddling.
Or worse.
“Lucian?” Old Death’s voice came to him. “What are you doing here so early, my boy?”
“I need to see you.”
“Bloody hold on,” his predecessor grumbled, before whispering something to Leliel.
Lucian stepped away and glanced at the sun rising in the distance, its rays illuminating the sandy dunes, adding a bit of sparkle to them, the beautiful sight doing nothing to lighten his mood.
“What is it, my boy?”
Lucian turned to see a form he was growing more familiar with, his predecessor in the body of one of Lucian’s Grim Mechas, his eyes purple, his muscles sharp, his artificial skin just a hair darker than it had been the last time he’d seen him.
“I did something I shouldn’t have done.”
Old Death smiled. “Of course you did. Is that why you have come here? To confess to me?”
“It’s not funny.”
“I haven’t laughed yet.”
“I told Danira that I was the one who killed the two angels.”
Old Death lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why would you do something like that?”
“I thought it would help to be honest. I thought that’s what she wanted from me, and, well, we were growing closer and I figured it was time to tell her the truth. She already said that the Progeny of Light was investigating it; it would have come out at some point anyway.”
His predecessor nodded. “That I agree with. Even so, you should have let it come out. It may have given you more time to thicken the bond between the two of you, which would have prevented what I’m guessing was an angel storming out, angry?”
“Sounds about right.”
“They are a very particular bunch, the Progeny of Light,” Old Death said under his breath, nodding to the tent to indicate that he didn’t want Leliel to hear him. “We seem friendly now, but you would not believe the strife the two of us have put each other through. So if you want my advice, I would tell you this: she’ll be back. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but even if I wouldn’t have done it, you did the right thing in telling her now. It was a stupid thing, but it was the right thing. Sometimes those are the same. My suggestion would be to focus on your brother, and see what happens. Also, there is the growing war between the two Progenies which could turn ugly at any moment. Maybe that will take your mind off your relationship drama. You need to be ready for that as well.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Lucian.
“There were times that I wished I’d never met her,” said Old Death, his voice still soft, “times that I wished she had simply killed me so we could get this over with. But look at us now. If I hadn’t been patient, or more appropriately, foolhardy and stubborn, I wouldn’t be here now with her. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Would I have believed it at the time, especially in some of our earlier encounters? No. So just let things play out. You have plenty of time to deal with the Progeny of Light, and just because she’s mad at you now, doesn’t mean she will be for eternity.”
“Thanks,” said Lucian. “I needed to hear that.”
“Of course you did; that’s why you came to me. Now, what are your plans for today?”
Lucian cracked his knuckles. “First I need to check on something. Then I guess I’ll meet with Yoshimi and update her on everything that has happened. From there? Try to grow stronger.”
“That’s all we really can do, my boy.”
Lucian appeared on the long bridge that led to Turners Falls, Massachusetts.
The wooded hills surrounding the city were still showcasing their fall leaves, shades of orange and red, bright yellow and brittle brown peppering the landscape, patches of snow, a cold breeze flowing over the bridge.
Cars passing beneath him, Lucian lowered onto the pedestrian walkway on the other side of the bridge, noticing the pewter railing, the Connecticut River racing beneath the bridge.
What was it about this place? Why did he keep having dreams that featured this location?
He recalled the dreams with the injuresouls, racing in the white sports car toward them, the inevitable battle, the bridge growing longer. Then there was Azazyel, who turned out to be his brother. What was the meaning of that?
And why this place?
An uncle had lived here, sure, and Lucian had visited several times as a child, but why here?
His crows off to his left, Lucian’s six Grim Mechas fanned out and acted as if they were the Secret Service and he was the president.
Once secured, Lucian made his way across the bridge, toward Turners Falls.
It was a quaint New England setting, and like so many of the towns and hamlets in Western Mass, it was hardly populated, a Main Street with brick buildings on either side, most built over a hundred years ago.
There was the Shea Theater, with a few small eateries, apartments behind the main thoroughfare that looked like truncated blockhouses, nothing like what could be found in Philadelphia or New York City.
Lucian floated into a recently opened boutique, a woman who likely lived in Northampton sitting behind a glass display case with curated items inside.
Name: Elizabeth Carmichael
Date of Birth: 12/09/1971
Date of Death: 11/13/2057
He pressed through the old brick wall and came to an antique shop, where a man in thick glasses examined a stamp collection, his shop filled with World War II memorabilia, from canteens to evergreen overcoats made of wool.
Name: Johnny Martin
Date of Birth: 03/21/1951
Date of Death: 04/17/2033
Lucian m
oved on.
Eventually, he stopped exploring and made his way to the center of town, where he equipped Yoshimi’s geisha comb and threw it against the ground, the piece shattering.
He waited for a moment, and was not disappointed when a wind kicked up, cherry blossoms spiraling into the air, forming into the mysterious female Death, who wore dark blue robes with hummingbirds on them, her hair long this time, slick against the back of her neck, her makeup elaborate, her mascara angular, her lips the color of cooling lava.
“I’ve never been here before,” she said, taking a look around. “It’s quite lovely.”
“This place keeps coming up in my dreams, so I figured I’d check it out.”
“What have you discovered?”
Lucian shrugged, an old, rusty pickup truck passing beneath them. “Nothing much.”
“And what happens in this dream?”
“I always have to fight something. I have won, but I’ve also lost.”
“A metaphor for life after death?” she asked, her darkened lips parting just a hair as a grin, or what would pass a grin on the normally somber Death’s face, took shape.
“Something like that,” Lucian said.
“You’ve got quite the entourage now,” said Yoshimi, noticing that Lucian’s replicants had formed a circle around them, all of them facing outward, scanning their surroundings.
“Maybe it’s a bit overkill.”
“Do you feel safe?”
“I don’t know what I feel,” said Lucian, “but I have a lot of updates for you.”
“And I have something for you as well. Come, let’s go someplace safer.”
She extended her hand toward Lucian, and before he could float forward and touch it, they were suddenly in her lair, the waterfall to the right, the glass separating her strange home with all its etchings on the wall opposite the source of life.
A table formed, sushi and sashimi appearing on little plates.
“Wait, I have something you might like,” said Lucian as he conjured two pizzas. “You like pizza, right?”
“Actually…” She bowed her head just a little. “I’ve never had it. There weren’t many Italian restaurants when I was alive, and any foods that have become popular after that time I have generally avoided, mostly because I don’t know how to make them.”
Lucian considered that. “Normally, I’d say let’s keep the sushi, but it’s not going to pair well with pizza, believe me there. How about this? Give it a shot, if you don’t like it, we can go back to what you normally eat.”
She nodded, sitting in front of Lucian as the Japanese food vanished, the two pizzas lowering onto the table, piping hot.
“What we really need, and what I should probably figure out how to create, is a liter of soda. Maybe I’ll do that another day.”
Yoshimi lifted a pair of chopsticks, going for one of the slices.
“Not like that,” Lucian told her as he took a slice with his bare hand, folded it and prepared to take a bite. “Like this.”
“Should I have a plate?”
“It’s probably better,” he said, turning his palm around, the Japanese Death conjuring a plate which lowered onto Lucian’s hand.
She created a plate for herself too, which she held a bit awkwardly as she went for her first bite. The female Death chewed it for a moment, her eyes lifting just a bit after she swallowed. “I…”
“It’s not for everyone,” Lucian said.
“No, it’s wonderful. It’s different. It’s warm, cheesy. I like it.”
“Good.”
And since it was related to what had happened between Lucian and Danira, he went ahead and launched into a story about how he had killed the angels, how he hadn’t told Danira at first, and how they were making pizza when he decided to be honest with her.
“So, now she is your enemy again?” Yoshimi asked with a subtle smirk on her face.
“Yeah, it looks like that’s the case.”
“I believe I may have told you something about associating with the Progeny of Light. I would suggest remembering what I told you.”
“I’m an idiot,” Lucian said. “I know. I was in a foul mood when I saw those two angels and they came after me. To be honest, I knew I could kill them—or I should say, I knew our kind could kill them—but I didn’t know that I personally could do it, not at this level.”
“You continue to grow stronger…” she said, going for another slice.
Lucian launched into the story of what had happened at Wyatt’s place, Yoshimi especially interested in how Lucian had captured parasites.
“I’ve seen other Deaths do that before,” she said, “but they are generally a lot stronger than you must have been at the time.”
“Maybe it has something to do with my determination to make this happen. I needed that power, and Wyatt had Mastima. Gaspard? I really don’t care too much about him aside from his political powers, but Mastima was, and still is, growing on me. She’s a bit dark, but she means well, and thus far, she’s kept her word.”
“And now what?”
“Now, we see what Gaspard can do, how high up this goes and what we do next from there.”
“A rebellion within the Progeny of Darkness,” said Yoshimi. “I will have to think more about this, but you know that I’ve always thought there was something suspicious about the way they have kept our two Progenies at each other’s throats.”
“So you’re offering me your support?”
“Not just yet. I would like to think more about it, about the repercussions, but I do think that this will be a way forward. If anything, infighting could disrupt an all-out war, which is something we don’t want. In the long run, it will be terrible for both sides. If we could prevent all the battles to come, and work toward an agreement, maybe we will come to the conclusion that we aren’t that different.”
“It would be nice,” said Lucian.
“I’ve made another potion for you.”
A corked bottle appeared before Lucian, this one shaped just like the one she’d given him previously.
“I still don’t see how you are doing this,” he said.
“Maybe when you have some free time, you can try reverse-engineering it. That might be to your advantage. For now, I will continue to make these when I have the energy. Really, it’s no trouble. I was going to make another for you, but I decided to save my power for what we need to do today.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve asked me to take a look at your brother, his condition,” she said, settling her dark gaze at him. “I believe we should do that now.”
Chapter Nineteen: Legacy
Floating above Lucian’s brother’s neighborhood in Beverly, Massachusetts, Yoshimi glanced toward the ocean beyond, a serene look on her face as she took in the view.
“It’s a quiet neighborhood,” she finally said. “It seems peaceful here. All the places you’ve shown me so far in America seem peaceful in their own ways. You know how to pick nice places.”
“I used to think it was nice. But now? Not so much,” said Lucian, who was at her side, his crows with him, his mechas joining him as well. “Too many memories now. It feels broken in some way.”
“Memories do have a way of tainting a location.”
“That’s one way to put it,” said Lucian. “The way I see it, there’s no telling what’s going on in some of the homes in this neighborhood. Could be nothing, could be something worse than what my brother’s family is dealing with, something terrible, fucked up. I learned that much by just moving through the walls.”
“In this neighborhood?” she asked, gesturing toward the cape-style homes.
“No, just in general. Sometimes I’ll do that, just move through walls and see how people are living. It’s often eye-opening.”
“Perspective is important,” she said as she began to lower to Connor’s backyard. “And it’s amazing what a wall is able to do.”
Lucian did the same, and once they reached th
e partially frozen and mostly dead grass, the female Death floated forward and pressed through the back of the home, Lucian joining her just as Tuck the cat was tiptoeing into the living room.
He took one look at the two of them, hissed, and ran off.
“I’ve always thought it was strange how cats could sense us,” said Yoshimi.
Connor came lumbering up from the basement, the man with bags under his eyes and his beard starting to grow out, his hair disheveled, his face sullen. He was in a Red Sox T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, a pair of dirty house slippers on his feet.
Connor turned to the backyard and walked right through Yoshimi and Lucian, who followed him out.
From there he went to the shed, Lucian not able to figure out what it was that he wanted.
“I see,” said Yoshimi, now able to spot the parasite peeking out of his brother’s shirt, its body clear, with yellow running through it.
Yoshimi slowly raised her hand, her katana forming. In response, Lucian summoned his armor, which broke free from his skin, hardening around his body.
The female Death positioned her hands at the top and bottom of her weapon’s hilt, a line of light traveling down the tip of the blade she brought it to the ready.
“I hope this helps,” she said to Lucian before turning to her opponent, just as an eye was starting to lift off the parasite’s form, the eye locking onto her.
She shot forward, her blade connecting with the demon bug.
Rather than cut through it, Yoshimi was sent flying backward, straight into Lucian, the two of them colliding with a bush.
His Grim Mechas swarmed around them, all of them pointing their energy weapons at the parasite as it started to grow in size, which was what Lucian recalled it doing last time, outside of the hardware store.
“Here we go,” he said, steeling himself.
“I will do my best to let you have the kill.” Yoshimi brought her blade up again and crouched.
Figuring he could soften it up, Lucian went with his carbine, unloading a magazine, the parasite absorbing every shot.
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