Even if Fate was malleable, there was no proof Nhang’s revolt would be successful. She wasn’t in control. Not of this army, and certainly not of Fate.
Oh, Nhang. What did you get yourself into?
Lilith crossed her arms and stared. Her doomed, fool-headed daughter stood by, waiting to kill her. She’d known this day was coming since the very first time Nhang opened her new, predacious eyes.
“You’ve stepped in a load of shit, and I won’t lie and say it doesn’t stink,” Lilith said. “I’m not helping you. Might as well kill me, if you can.”
Nhang huffed, and her breath drifted over Lilith’s cheek. “I won’t kill you, mother. I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”
The Corporal stepped up to Nhang’s side. “Sister, she wants us to fail. We can’t trust her. She’s Catherine’s friend, and we all know that bitch deserves it.”
Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but Lilith nudged her, and they quietly watched the Corporal badger Nhang.
He jabbed his pointer finger at Lilith. “I don’t care if she spawned you. Why should we trust you if you can’t take care of her?
Nhang stood straight, turned, and glared at the Corporal. He flinched, then caught himself and froze. Tried to recover from the involuntary reaction.
He mumbled, “We can’t leave enemies at our backs.”
That was something Lilith could agree with.
“I have no trouble killing my enemies,” Nhang whispered. “Hundreds of rotting corpses are proof of that. But I won’t kill my mother.”
Huh?
“Because that’s what she expects,” Nhang continued, “and I’d die before proving her right.”
Well, sonovabitch.
Poppy chimed in. “Family doesn’t betray family.”
Lilith smiled. “In that case, have a great evening. I’ll be on my way. C’mon, Catherine.”
She waved at Haniel and Catherine to stand up.
“Not so fast,” Nhang said.
Lilith sighed.
“Choose,” Nhang said. “One of them walks out of here with you. The other stays.”
A hard lump settled in Lilith’s gut.
Her daughter leaned in, eyes glimmering with a hundred green pinpoints. Her vertical pupils expanded, and light reflected off the back of her eyes. “Who will it be, mother? Your friend? Or the filthy paramour?”
Catherine smiled.
Haniel gazed at Lilith as if he’d finally figured out what the stakes were, that they weren’t all getting out alive. His eyes were so sharp it hurt to look at him, and his words grated her.
“Whatever you have to do…” His voice resonated with an ethereal timber, “please save Maggie.”
His words echoed like ghosts. He thought she’d take Catherine and leave him. Catherine’s expectant eyes showed she assumed the same.
Lilith looked at Catherine, at the gleaming broach near her neckline, her puffy rouged lips, and the curl of hair pinned behind her ear.
When they first met, Catherine had retained the shy, girlish habit of tucking her hair behind her ear while she flirted and fed. A coy, feminine gesture, one Lilith couldn’t remember making herself. Had she ever been so young and whimsical? She couldn’t recall much about the life before her death.
The curl could become a lovely, striped adder, but Lilith would need many more to deter a house full of angry vampires.
Better to deal with one vampire at a time, one snake at a time.
She met Nhang’s victorious eyes. The little bitch thought she’d won. Thought she was really making a point, teaching Lilith a lesson. Stupid girl must have forgotten an important fact.
Lilith didn’t learn so well.
Even if Nhang planned to keep her word—which was unlikely—the Corporal would think of a reason to kill her, and he’d probably use this incident to further his mutiny.
Lilith had already gotten what she needed from Catherine. And as Catherine herself had said, they were square. Lilith didn’t owe her anything.
The plan didn’t change; she’d have to fight her way out of there.
“I want the man,” Lilith declared.
Nhang’s mouth opened. Catherine’s jaw dropped. The Gentleman laughed.
Catherine flew at Lilith’s face, clawing and hissing like a wet panther. Fingernails scored Lilith’s cheeks, snagging her eyeballs. Burning pain shot straight into her brain.
Not my eyes!
She turned her head and grabbed Catherine’s throat, but strangling a vampire didn’t do much good considering they didn’t breathe often. Blindness made her panic, caught her up in a loop where she thought not my eyes, not my eyes, not my eyes while her old friend attacked her.
Catherine fell flat on her, and Lilith’s head smacked against the floor, knocking sense into her.
Shrieking, snapping her teeth, Lilith kicked out and tried to stand, but the blasted dress tangled around her feet, knotted further by Catherine’s heavy skirts. She made a fist and whacked Catherine upside the head, and Catherine gave up trying to blind her and smacked her back.
Lilith could have created something venomous to bite Catherine and make her stop, but she didn’t. She needed to hold on a little while longer, until she had enough power to escape the vampires and the angel her magic would summon.
The spark inside her chest swelled gloriously, but it wasn’t enough.
Her unfaithful daughter and the army stared on, watching them tumble and scuffle. Catherine ripped at her hair. Lilith threw her forearm up, ramming it against Catherine’s nose. Putting a few inches of distance between them didn’t seem to help anything, didn’t even distract Catherine.
Then something weird happened: Haniel tried to help her.
He charged Catherine from behind, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. When he pulled at her, she ripped a chunk of hair from Lilith’s skull. Lilith shrieked, clutching her scalp. It stung all the way down to her toes. Blood ran into her eyes, muddling her vision.
Catherine—who seemed in a mood to make Lilith suffer—now had her hands on Haniel, whom Lilith had chosen to spare. Their eyes met, and Lilith saw the moment when Catherine recognized the opportunity. Her pupils dilated with excitement.
She squirmed, turning in Haniel’s arms. Her fingers wormed into his hair and she seized his scalp, dragging his neck toward her teeth.
Lilith unleased the spark. She’d already noted everyone’s belts, bracers, laces and cords, necklaces and fringe and zippers; now she forced a grand Becoming, making snakes of it all. Catherine’s nest of curls became a cluster of West African carpet vipers. The Gentleman’s suspenders turned into King Brown snakes, each twenty times more venomous than a tiger snake. Poppy’s boot laces slid into coral snakes, their black, red, white stripes flashing as they darted free. A handsome set of bandy-bandies adorned the Corporal’s jacket. Every belt became a fat-headed Gaboon Viper.
In a split second, the room went to shit.
Vampires swatted and flailed and spun in circles and fell down.
Stop, drop, and roll, Lilith thought, chuckling hysterically as all magic voided her chest.
The collective screams and howls brought a wicked smile to her face. Bodies dropped, presumably weaker vampires who couldn’t survive potent venom. The shrieks and cries escalated.
Sulfur ripped into the room, and Lilith looked around for the cause. Five-horn darted through the crowd, almost waist-high, dragging a trail of curling intestines in his hand. Almost-wing flapped her undersized wings, braced her legs on a vamp’s chest, and yanked an eyeball from a Lazarite’s head.
“Oh, you pretty babies,” Lilith said, half-delirious. But the spawn got caught up trying to mutilate the mob.
Lilith grabbed Haniel by the hand and ran, dragging him behind her. She cut a path through the library and charged the window. Haniel had enough time to say “Wha” before they plunged through the glass and tumbled toward the snowbank.
Somehow, Haniel ended up on top.
“Jesus,” she
wheezed, inventorying her broken ribs.
He rolled off her.
Vampires poured out of the house, carrying their screams and snakes with them.
Haniel clasped her wrist and yanked her up. They fled down the street, away from the vampire mob entangled with snakes. She sprinted, trying to ignore the acute pain in her eyes, face, chest…well, in every part of her.
After a few blocks, Haniel huffed and lagged behind, lurching on his wimpy knee. She dragged him along. He glared but didn’t say anything. Probably didn’t have enough breath to be sassy or sarcastic.
It was a welcome change.
She was so tired, though. Empty, vacuous.
They should run more, run forever. Lazarites were swarming the city, seemingly more numerous than humans. Starvation was coming. The wolves were there, too. Territorial disputes would happen, especially as the Lazarites grew in number, and they always grew in number until they encroached on Exalted territory and someone culled the herd.
Right now, the location worked for Nhang. The nests of American-dwelling vampires had grown affluent and comfortable, cut off from the rest of the world by oceans.
If Nhang thought the old world vampires in Asia, Africa, and Europe would put up with this kind of behavior, she’d find herself sorely mistaken.
Over there, the movement would die. If she tried to take Alexei’s estate? Or War’s? Hell, good luck taking as much as an olive from War’s garden. If Nhang didn’t settle down and be satisfied with her winnings thus far, she’d die.
Lilith sighed. Chances were good the Corporal would mutiny soon, just to take over the ‘family’ and set himself up as the Exalted king.
Taking Lane’s place.
Lilith growled.
Haniel panted, “What?”
She shook her head. “We need to get away from Nhang’s revolution. Time to go see Catherine’s witch.”
Maybe Lilith could slip the witch a jewel or two to say that Maggie had died when the dragon grabbed her.
What she really wanted, more than anything, was to be done with this Maggie business and get back to the angel-destroying agenda. If nothing else, she could use a cup—or a gallon—of blood.
Catherine’s blood grew tacky between her fingers, and Lilith plugged her index finger into her mouth. Catherine tasted like lead, port, and insect husks.
Don’t think about that.
If she had to do it all over again, it’d go down the same way.
A sharp scent crackled the air. The smell of lightning. The wind picked up. Darkened clouds swirled above her head. Gravity folded, doubled down, kept adding pressure until Lilith gasped.
When she’d used all the spark, she’d flagged down an angel.
Run.
Lilith pulled the card from her pocket. “C’mon, you filthy paramour,” she said. “Let’s go chat with a witch.”
Chapter 20
When Lilith read Catherine’s note and saw the words ‘Forest’ and ‘Hills’ she hadn’t expected another urban trek through Boston’s streets. Worse still, they had to go south again. Meaning they had to cross the damned Charles River, again.
Since she’d rather have died than walked the same path where they’d encountered the werewolves, Lilith and Haniel crossed another bridge, one slightly out of the way but shorter.
Overall, what should have been a robust two hour walk in good health and great weather had turned into a five-hour event. Every cell in her body ached for blood and rest. Every thought in her head cursed Catherine and heaven and Nhang and her own bad luck.
Night relented and the sky became indigo. Finally, Lilith and Haniel reached what she might call a forest, if she was drunk and blind. If pressed, she’d admit the cemetery grounds were pretty enough, given that they’d survived a rough winter.
Snow and ice clung to boughs, and the world grew white, deceptively clean, hiding its filth and murder beneath a fresh blanket of snow which dusted the tops of the small, ancient headstones. A smudge on the landscape indicated the crematorium had been busy.
In a nasty mood, Lilith perused the consecrated grounds, feeling watched, thinking maybe it was a trap. Haniel stood beside her. His limp seemed to have faded despite fleeing an insurrection and the endless walking.
He's changing, she thought, but into what?
Human, inhuman? Maybe when she fed his minions, she’d actually been feeding his demonic side.
Bad news.
If she was having trouble shepherding him now, he'd be even more unmanageable as a full-blown demon. Then again, a devil could be a great ally if they’re facing off with the divine.
“Of all the places to hide a witch,” Haniel murmured, drawing her attention to the chapel. The plain, pleasing building reminded her more of a quaint, Victorian church. Haniel strode forward and she jogged to catch up.
A serpent crept over her shoe and bumped his head against the chapel doors. Minions followed suit and began bashed their skulls against the building like battering rams, hard enough to rattle their brains. Shrieks of demon laughter rolled through the air.
The door swung open abruptly, flinging minions and snakes into snow banks.
“Stop all that confounded banging!” a woman said. She was squat, plump, plain. “Are you coming in or not?”
The chapel was dark, warmly lit with candlelight, and achingly beautiful in its simplicity. Wooden beams curved up along the ceiling, a rich, dark brown color. Pews had been cleared to one side, and a village of survivors spread out, camping, bundled up to ward off the cold. Decorative drapes had been pulled down to make crude tents.
The woman stood six paces away from the door—too far away for her to have opened it by normal means. A green scarf was wrapped around her head, but the boisterous mass of hair underneath made her skull appear bulbous. She looked like the kind of vagabond who got tossed out of flop houses for wearing too much patchouli and hoarding cats.
While Lilith gawked, the brimstone-babies helped themselves inside and snooped around. Her snakes followed. Water splashed from the basin where demonic imps played.
“I’m Everallin,” the oracle said, setting her hands on robust hips. “Can you keep them out of the holy water?”
While Lilith wondered if Everallin was referring to the serpents or if she could see the minions.
Haniel complained, “A witch living in a church?”
“The building is sturdy.” Everallin tapped her toe on the floor. Thunk, thunk. “There’s plenty of space. The energy is good. Oh, the clergy doesn’t mind; I’ve done plenty of work for the Church.”
Lilith asked, “What kind of work?”
The oracle cocked her head. “Is that what you came to ask me?”
“Of course not.”
“I won't tolerate murder here, understand? No eating anyone.” Everallin squinted at Haniel. “That goes for all of you.”
“We've been fed,” Lilith said. “You have nothing to fear.”
“You've been fed,” he mumbled. “I'm starving.”
The witch winked. “There's soup in the kitchen.”
Haniel hesitated, probably wanting to keep an eye on them both.
Everallin dusted off the front of his shirt, tidying him up as if he needed to make a good impression on the refugees. Or maybe she just wants to cop a feel, Lilith decided when Everallin’s touch lingered.
“Hear that, Haniel?” Lilith interjected. “She’s got soup.”
Everallin smiled. “Mostly water and rice with a few beans. Help yourself. While you're doing that, the vampire and I must talk.”
He folded his arms. “I want to hear every word.”
“No,” Lilith and Everallin said. They looked at each other.
Everallin said, “Get some food, Haniel. You'll need your strength for what's to come, and the clock is ticking.”
Clock's always ticking, Lilith thought.
When Everallin pointed him to the kitchen, he went like a trained dog, which pissed Lilith off. They’d fought wolves, angels, and vam
pires together. Why did he question everything Lilith said and then obey Everallin without hesitation?
“I'm an oracle, remember?” Everallin said.
Goddamnit, that's—
“Irritating, I know.” Everallin shrugged. “Saves me a helluva lotta time, though. And as I said—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Lilith smirked. “Clock's ticking.”
“Want to know a secret?” Everallin said.
“Why do you think I'm here?”
The witch laughed like a tinkling of bells, and the melodious sound swam up and up, swirling toward heaven. Lilith glanced up at the marvelous, rounded wooden ceiling. Somehow, she felt closer to heaven. In a good way.
“It comes and goes,” Everallin said.
“Heaven?”
She laughed again. “No, the Sight. Sometimes I get the clearest pictures, thoughts, and a barrage of visions. Other times, I'm utterly blank. Blind as a bat. For weeks, months even.”
“Must be frustrating,” Lilith said.
“Maddening. Peaceful.” Everallin sighed. “Maddeningly peaceful.”
They walked through the chapel, surrounded by stink of so many people, eighty or a hundred. Children—children!—played and cried, somehow alive after the worst winter in history. The acoustics of the building lifted the joyful, vibrant voices in an ethereal song.
And it was all so vulnerable.
If Lilith, with her underdeveloped sense of smell, could scent out the pile of humanity tucked inside these walls, how did Everallin keep the wolves at bay?
Lilith asked, “How are you still here?”
“Necessity is a big part of it. When Boston was quarantined and the trains stopped, people couldn't escape. FEMA couldn't maintain order, hell, they could barely keep the grid lit. Wolves came, spread their disease. Soldiers came, spreading violence. Eventually, some FEMA boys broke camp, settled in just north of here, and rounded up a harem, which they hoped to rule like cavemen kings.”
“And what happened?”
“The harem rebelled.”
Lilith huffed. “There's always a rebellion somewhere.”
“What would you have done?”
“The same.”
Everallin nodded. “We've been taking in stragglers since. FEMA’s loot kept us fed for the first part of the winter. We had a benefactor, but that's recently come to an end. Even with careful rationing, we've only got another three weeks of food. Winter is lifting and the trains are being repaired, but we need the quarantine to end.”
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