by Sawyer Black
Henry looked over his shoulder, catching his breath. The dragon jumped through the fire to land with her clawed feet tangling in the nearest Tracker’s fluttering robe.
His light dimmed, and he fell to the stone. The dragon screamed in triumph as the glittering net sagged.
Except for you!
The Tracker’s voice boomed from the walls and split Henry’s mind with its volume. Anger tinged with irritation. Indignant. Like Saint George, the Tracker pulled a sword from his back as the dragon thrust her head toward his throat.
Henry didn’t want to see what a pissed off Tracker could do to a demon pressing her luck. He stepped forward, blocking Meyor’s line of sight. Meyor dropped his pants and stepped back, shaking his head and blinking his eyes clear. Ariana’s face twisted with confusion. She looked into Henry’s face with her eyebrows raised in question.
Henry jumped forward, grabbing Meyor by the throat.
Ariana jumped around and clutched Henry’s wrist.
“Please,” she gasped, her face twisting with grief. “Don’t hurt him.”
Nadia limped over and wrapped Ariana in a hold, pulling her back so that Henry could work.
“Where’s the Purveyor?” Henry growled.
Meyor’s eyes flitted from the scene over Henry’s shoulders and back. The dragon’s scream of pain cut through the air, and Meyor ducked in a wince. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Henry bit into Meyor’s face. His teeth scraped against bone, and he pulled back, a glistening strand stretching from the auctioneer’s visage.
Henry swallowed, and the strand snapped with a wet sounding POP!
Meyor’s scream was drowned out by Ariana’s wail, but they were both beaten by the dragon, cracking the stone with her howl, dying in a burst of light and a release of energy that sifted dust from the ceiling into Henry’s eyes.
Meyor’s head slumped forward, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I don’t know where he is.”
“How do I find him?”
“I don’t know. He always calls me.”
“You got a phone from Antioch, too?”
“What?” Meyor shook his head in confusion. “No. On my iPhone.”
“Where is it?”
Meyor glanced down at the pants, pooled on the floor at his feet. “I don’t know.”
Henry looked at Nadia with a nod. She threw Ariana to the floor, and Meyor struggled to keep her in his sight.
Ariana scrabbled back, the thin chains on her wrists jingling as she held her hands up, fending off Nadia’s approach. Nadia swung her hand, parting the thin chains with her claws.
“NO!” Meyor screamed.
A blinding flash washed Henry’s vision in humming colors. Ariana fell back, her skin suddenly glowing as her face went from terror to dawning realization.
A realization that Henry felt in his gut, that Ariana had once been an angel, made prisoner by Meyor.
Her eyes left Nadia’s approaching form, finding Meyor in Henry’s grasp. Her brows drew down, and her face twisted into a mask of rage, blood coloring her cheeks. The chains around her wrists and waist crumbled into rust, and she rose from the floor.
Dust and ash rushed around them, swirling and collecting into a tornado at her floating feet.
“At last,” she said. Her voice a repellent melody of unspeakable music.
Dread tightened Henry’s chest, and he opened his hands and stepped back.
Meyor, who had been cowering against Henry’s chest, was forced to face Ariana.
Her light dimmed, and she spread her arms. Henry smelled the ocean. A silence spread to press against him like weight dragging him under a wave.
His own gasping breath.
Meyor’s whimpering.
The slow beating of Tracker wings.
“You thought you could hold me prisoner?” Her voice crashed into his ears. Ariana’s eyes flicked up to the scene over Henry’s shoulders. He followed her gaze, and the Trackers hovered toward them. One covered in blood, his robes torn and frayed. The net held out between them. The fire raged from behind.
Henry spun back around, squeezing his eyes closed. He slit one open, peering up into Ariana’s face. Her brows drew down further and she shook her head. “Nay, brothers. Your net will not catch this one.”
Do not do this, little sister.
Not just an angel, but a Tracker.
Ariana shook her head. The room plunged into darkness as she drew all the light and power to her open hands.
Revenge will draw you away from salvation.
Tears sprang out on her face.
Henry dropped to his knees, ducking under her attention.
Nadia crawled over, pressing into his side.
Meyor stepped on his pants, tangling his other foot on the folds of the fabric. He fell over, his arms flailing, and hit the stone floor, his eyes never leaving her face. He shouted, “I’m sorry!”
Ariana glared, “No, but you will be.”
No.
Let us end your pain, sister.
Henry scrabbled forward, and he patted his thick hands against Meyor’s pants, pushing the man back down when he tried to rise. Under his palm. Is that his phone?
Henry closed his fist and ripped his hand up. The pants split, lifting Meyor from the floor until they tore completely through.
Meyor fell back and Henry crawled away on his ass in a frantic crab walk.
Ariana’s energy grew in her palms, spinning whirls of color pulsating and buzzing like electricity. The air whipped into a swirling frenzy. Embers and sparks flooded into the corner, the heat blowing by Henry’s face sucking the moisture from his mouth and eyes.
Please.
You must not do this thing.
Ariana looked away from the Trackers, pinning Meyor down with a piercing stare. “The Lord’s punishment is meted out in ways unworthy of this one’s sins.”
You must not assume judgement.
That power lies elsewhere.
“He did things to me … things not even recorded in Hell.”
Please.
Let us end your pain.
You will know only joy in His love.
“He made me do things to … others.” Her eyes flickered to the children staring at the Trackers in rapt joy.
The bloodied Tracker lowered to the ground and stepped into the alcove in the corner to face Ariana. He sheathed his sword and fell to his knee. The weight of his presence pushed Henry into the corner. He couldn’t lift his arms, and the Tracker’s glow dug into his eyes, sinking into his brain, washing out Amélie’s face.
He clutched the fabric-covered lump that he hoped was Meyer's cell phone against his chest and leaned into Nadia. Her head lowered to his shoulder, and she closed her eyes.
This is it.
Ariana compressed the energy into her fists, the power spitting from between her fingers.
The light from the other Tracker trailed away.
Come children.
You have known enough suffering.
“Thank you,” Ariana whispered.
The dragon slayer rose, his beautiful smile radiating through his bloody face.
Then you have seen reason?
“No,” Ariana said, raising her head in defiance. “I haven’t.”
She opened her hands, and the energy released in a burst that could birth a galaxy.
A glowing compression wave roared from her hands, filling Henry’s eyes with burning light. His ears with deafening sound.
The floor bucked and split, dropping away to leave his stomach in his throat. He fell as the pillars crumbled. The mounting pressure slammed him into the wall, and above it all, he heard Ariana’s wail twining with Meyor’s inhuman screams of agony.
Lasting longer than any breath possibly could, the twin voices finally died with a deafening silence.
Henry dropped to his knees, and only realized he could see when he opened his eyes. Black motes of dust floated in front of his face. He blinked at the rubb
le piled around him.
Meyor was gone. No sign of his body remained. A burned circle on the wall behind where Ariana had floated. No flames burned in the remains of the room, only wafting smoke and swirling ash. Henry turned, but the children were gone.
Did the Tracker get ’em out?
A groan at his feet, and Nadia rose to stand beside him.
She slipped the ring from her left hand to her right, and her nude human form collapsed into his arms. She cried into the chest of a monster, and he fumbled with the scraps of Meyor’s pants until he had transferred his own ring, and he held her with human hands. The ring muffled the residual pain floating in the room, cloying remains of grief and despair. He looked up and saw stars through an aperture in the ceiling.
A breath through his nostrils, and he tasted the night air. The shadows outside called to him.
The scrape of stone on stone behind him. He spun, pushing Nadia behind him and dropping into a crouch.
A shaft of light burst through a gap in the destruction. Golden light followed by a sweet song of forgiveness. The bloodied Tracker stood with a cascade of rock and dust. His light spread through the room, showing the bodies and blood and destruction in stark relief. He lifted his sad eyes to look at Henry, and Henry felt it all crash back down.
The Tracker lowered his eyes, and Henry stepped back with a gasp. The Tracker sat on a flat chunk of stone, and lowered his head into his hands.
I have not the will to continue this night.
Henry reached back for Nadia’s hand.
Go.
Henry pulled Nadia into the darkness, and they fled into the night sky.
Chapter Sixteen
Outside, under the stars and in the clear open air, Henry stepped out of the shadow of a family crypt at the edge of the Prince Hill Cemetery. He drew a deep breath and whistled in disbelief when he saw the smoking depression in the ground above the cavern where Ariana had destroyed her captor. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Wow.” Nadia shivered and rubbed her arms, leaving trails in the drying blood under her hands. Filthy and bruised, she looked like she’d just walked out of a war. They both did.
While their most grievous of wounds had healed, one of the few blessings of their curse, they were still both staggering like drunks walking home.
“We’re probably about five miles from my apartment. I think I can make it with both of us.” He took a deep breath and held out his arm. “Would you like a ride, Miss?”
Her smile didn’t touch her haunted sockets, and Henry wondered what she’d been before falling in with Mandyel.
What deal did she strike?
Who is, or was, she trying to save?
She stepped into his arm, holding onto his hand hanging over her shoulder. “My hero.”
Henry decided not to ask.
He whisked her into the shadows, and they traveled in a stretching path that flowed to his door like ink. She held him up as they stumbled into the apartment, and he waved toward the kitchen. She filled a pitcher of water, and he drained it, slamming the empty onto the counter. He staggered to the sofa, collapsing into it and dropping his head back into the soft cushion. Exhaustion dragged him under, and the couch rocked beneath him as Nadia dropped onto the seat beside him, curling up under his arm and nuzzling his chest.
He smelled Samantha’s jasmine shampoo. Felt her hair tickling the underside of his chin. Then he fell asleep with the fantasy that he was back in his wife’s embrace, dreaming of his family before he woke with the sun hitting him in the face.
Cigarette smoke tickled his nostrils.
Samantha doesn't smoke.
He cracked his eyes and squinted through the light. Nadia sat at the kitchen table, a cigarette clamped between her teeth, and a magazine open in front of her. The sun glittered in her hair, and the smooth skin of her legs glowed with a tanned luster that contrasted with one of his gray hoodies draped over her body. The neck hole stretched to fall over one of her bare shoulders.
She glanced up, and her face lit with a smile. “Good morning.”
He felt suddenly shy, and wanted to cover his junk with a pillow. Instead he stood up as casually as he could. “Hi.”
She went back to her magazine, sparing her scrutiny. “I didn’t have a change of clothes. So, I just threw this on.”
“Totally fine.” Henry stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. His eyes skittered across his reflection in the mirror, and he groaned.
The couch probably needs Stanley Steemer.
He drank a gallon of hot water under the scalding spray, and when he stepped out, wrapping the towel around his waist, there was black sediment in the bottom of the tub. He padded across the apartment, heading to his room to get dressed. Nadia looked up with a sharp intake of breath.
“What is it?” Henry asked, alarm rising into his throat.
The front door flew open, and Mandyel stormed in, his perfect brow creased in anger. The door slammed shut behind the raging angel, and Henry’s heart hammered as his escape route disappeared.
Mandyel snarled, and in a blink, his hand was around Henry’s throat. Without transition, Henry found himself held against the wall, his head aching from impact, gasping for air in painful sips. Mandyel’s face loomed.
“You had one job to do, Henry.” The angel took a deep breath and roared. “GET THE HORN!”
“Fuck you.” Henry wheezed, fighting to pull Mandyel’s hand open. He flared, and it was like running head first into a wall. He focused his blurring vision on the angel’s scowl. “You didn’t see that shit.”
“You think I don’t know what they were doing? What I was sending you into?”
“They wanted us to kill children. To fuck CHILDREN!”
“The horn, Henry. That was all that mattered. It was the only way to get to the boy.”
“What boy? What’s going on?”
Mandyel opened his hand, and Henry fell to the floor. He took a whooping breath then coughed, doubling over and filling his lungs with fiery air. “How can I save my daughter and look her in the eye?” Henry’s voice was a ragged whisper. “It wouldn’t matter if I let them do that shit to those kids.”
Henry stood, rubbing his throat. “Besides, the horn wasn’t even there.”
“Apparently.”
Henry’s rage boiled over. “But you know what was there, you dumb fuck? Tortured children and sick animals. Kids who were gonna be raped and sacrificed. And you chose to send us into that shit without telling us anything!”
Mandyel flipped the collar of his overcoat down his shoulders, shrugging it to the floor. “Don’t talk to me about choice, you son of a bitch.”
“What, did I hit a nerve? You fucking knew about what was going on down there and decided not to say anything.”
Mandyel dropped his blazer to the floor and loosened his tie. Henry caught Nadia’s look over the angel’s shoulder. Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head. Her jaw set with a bulge of muscle under her ear. Mandyel rolled his right cuff up past the elbow.
Oh shit.
As if a cloud passed over the sun, the apartment darkened, and Mandyel rolled up his other sleeve. He raised his eyes to meet Henry’s, and the darkness filled Henry’s sight as if he’d been stricken blind.
Oh fuck.
A spark swelled in front of him, and Mandyel revealed his angelic form in a blaze of holy light that would have made a Tracker don Ray-Bans.
Golden segmented armor over silk. Shimmering wings, their tips stretched to their limits, brushing against either wall. Bare feet rising above the floor. Black hair flowed from his head, suspended as if hanging in the depths of pure sparkling water. His eyes blazed with dark fire.
Henry wept at his beauty even as he gritted his teeth against the heat of the angel’s gaze.
You were gifted twice by the Lord.
His voice exploded into Henry’s mind, booming down the corridors of every memory.
First was His form. Second was His will.
Hen
ry hadn’t seen him move, but the angel’s hands pressed into his chest, and a paralyzing cold settled into his bones.
Let me show what the will of Man has wrought.
Henry descended into darkness. Shadows flavored with a millennium of pain and suffering. A tinge of his own scent floating up from the black and into his nostrils. Flames burst into life beneath him, and bodies of the damned in Hell writhed in suffering.
Flesh flayed from bone.
Internal cavities exposed to the light.
Violations of body and mind.
The screams.
Wails from the punished pulsing his ears.
In the center of the flames, a bright spot of white hot light. A girl sitting on the black rocks with her hands folded in her lap. His Amélie. Her attention turned up to the face of a demon with lava flowing from the cracks in his hide. Henry bent, approaching her in a crouch, and she ran to the demon with a smile, her arms spread wide to receive his embrace.
Henry’s scream joined the rest. He stood in his old home’s foyer, gun pressed to the back of his head. A flash, and the blood and brains arced out to fill his vision. The red cleared, and Boothe stood with his knowing smile curling the corners of his mouth.
You rejected His form for another.
“No, I had no choice!”
There is always choice, child.
Amélie’s coffin. Henry’s twisted back bent over the shining lid, his tears falling onto its polished surface like tinkling glass.
She was not yet in Hell.
“Boothe tricked me.”
No, child. You tricked yourself.
“He said he could save her.”
He did not.
Memory became reality. Randall and Boothe stepped into the light, one in white and the other in black. Henry raised his finger, stabbing it in Randall’s face.
“Like I said, for all I know this is a nightmare or a bad trip, so I don’t fucking care. If this is real, fine. He’s welcome to trick me after he helps me find my family.”
That’s what I said?
“Don’t mind him.” Boothe pointed to the man in white beside him. “He gets fussy because he doesn’t know how to get people to play with him.”
Henry turned to Boothe. “It’s true, right? You are trying to trick me.”