by Sawyer Black
He thought of Boothe. His half-truths that might as well have been lies. Randall’s omissions that were just as bad. Mandyel’s free will secrets. Angels and demons had destroyed his trust. Henry would never believe any of those fuckers ever again, but he’d never judge one demon by the actions of another.
But I can’t fucking blame her.
If that’s how he had treated people, especially women, he never would have met Samantha. He dropped his head. “I never would have done that.”
Aela snorted in disbelief. She walked into the next room, shielding the candle’s flame from the breeze of her passing. She closed the door behind her, and Henry stared at the floor.
“Henry,” Adam said. “I can’t reach.”
Henry rotated his hand in the manacle and raised his arm until the chain was stretched tight from his wrist to the wall hanger. He brought his claws down in a short slash. The chain split apart, releasing him to stagger back for balance. The manacle sprang open on its bent hinge, and he tossed it into the corner.
I am a Paladin, and no chain can … ah, fuck it.
Adam was standing with his toes on one of the bottom shelves, his fingertips brushing against a can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Looking at the stocked shelves and the organization underneath that would be capable of keeping the Way Home ready for travelers made Henry stand firm in his decision.
Adam would be cared for and protected.
What if they tried to trade him? Use him?
He shook his head and grabbed the can from the top shelf, dropping it into Adam’s waiting hands.
“I can’t open it, Henry.”
Henry dug a claw around the edge of the can, peeling it up and folding it back. Adam dug into his pocket and pulled out the antique Swiss army knife they’d found in the attic. It had a little spoon among the tools, and Adam loved using it. Just like those cowboy boots, nothing could convince him to stop.
The boy sat down and pulled the can into his lap. He paused with his spoon held above the quivering skin of fat. “You want some?”
“No thanks, buddy. Tear it up.”
This kid.
He needed his father. His mother. He needed more than the failed parent that Henry was. Amélie’s face, smiling up at the denizens of Hell, opening her arms for a burning demon’s hug. Henry’s payment for failing her.
These people in Solitude were the answer. Henry nodded to himself.
This is definitely the right thing.
And so what if he had to deal with a little demon prejudice? In his experience, demons were assholes. Maybe Aela had a point.
He slid the backpack off and dropped next to Adam, folding his legs underneath him. The boy kept inhaling cold stew in wolfing bites, dancing in place with pleasure. Henry reached in and grabbed the wipes, sliding one out through the slit in the lid and wiping a bit of grease off the angel’s cheek.
Adam looked up, flashing another grin. “Thanks, Henry.”
Henry swallowed the painful lump growing in his throat. “You got it, buddy.”
The door opened. Henry and Adam looked up as one. Aela entered with damp hair spilled across her shoulders. Henry licked a glob of fat from his claw and smiled at her dawning awareness.
“You broke your chains.”
“Yup.”
“Why didn’t you come in to molest me?”
“What?” Henry was looking at an alien. Somebody speaking a different language. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Demons are known to be agents of chaos.” Henry bristled at that word, but Aela continued in a rush and kept him from bitching. “Demons can’t be trusted to keep their word unless it’s for their own gain.” Her eyebrows rose in sudden understanding. “It’s because you are trying to gain the boy’s trust. Lull him into security, so you can betray him later?”
“Trust?” Henry said it like a word he’d never heard. He popped the snap on the cargo pocket on his right leg and slid his hand in. He pulled out Heaven’s Blade, the sharp edge protected by a plastic sheath from a rusted machete he found stuck in the mud outside a moss-covered log cabin at the edges of the mist.
He gripped the sheath between his knees and freed the blade. Swirling with dark energy, like a living Damascus pattern, it hung from his hand in front of Adam’s eyes. The boy kept eating, unaffected by the blade’s proximity.
Henry looked into Aela’s eyes, glittering with the bouncing flame. “A demon who became an angel gave me this. Won it at an auction where they sold children to the highest bidder. It can sense when an agent of Heaven is near, but it was actually made to kill angels. To kill this angel, I think.”
He slid it back in the sheath. “In my hand, it means nothing. Adam knows my love for him will keep it away, and while I’m holding it, he knows he’s safe.”
Henry tossed the knife in an arc across the room. Aela caught it, and the candle in her other hand barely wavered. She hissed, holding the knife away from her with a look of distaste, her nose wrinkling as she sneered.
Adam leaned forward, his face intense. His eyes filled with dark energy, liquid black flowing to cover the beautiful blue and gold. His body tensed beside him, and Henry felt the commanding power of the angel’s birthright gathering behind. The boy’s lips peeled back, revealing small fangs with a demon’s growl.
Henry leaned back and crossed his arms. “The demon-turned-angel who gave me that told me to kill this boy. In order to save my daughter from the eternal torture of Hell, a result of my weak self-loathing falling for his fucking tricks … In order for me to fulfill my promise to the little girl murdered at the feet of her mother, I had to kill another child.”
Aela held the knife at her side, her eyes shining. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I could never face her. Saving her by killing him? She’d never have forgiven me, and I’d never have forgiven myself. She’s already dead. And in Hell. Being groomed for service for only God knows what, but Adam is here now.” Henry’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and sniffed his tears up. “In a weird fucking way, she’s safe for a while. But he’s not. Please. I’m lost here, and they’re gonna come for him. And I won’t be enough.”
Adam lifted Henry's arm and pressed his face into his ribs. He hugged Henry with a fierce embrace, tight enough to bleed the air from Henry’s lungs.
Henry rested his hand on the boy’s trembling head and waited for Aela to return the serve. She flipped the blade to hold it by the sheath, then tossed it back.
Henry let it land in his lap, and he leaned over the little angel to hug him back, his coffee can hand clanging off the tin scabbard of Adam’a plastic Prince Valiant sword.
“I was attacked by Ravagers,” Aela said. “They’re not usually so close to Solitude. They must have been looking for Adam. But they found me and Baelzor. Yes, I was bringing him back to stand judgment when he told me about the boy, but Baelzor never said anything about him being his son. He probably knew I would treat the boy differently had I known he was half-demon. I’ll gather my things, and we’ll go.”
She turned, pausing at the door, the candle sending an aura around her like the sun’s corona. “I’m sorry for chaining you.”
She disappeared into the other room, and Henry stood with Adam still clinging to his side.
Chapter Four
They left the Forgotten’s crumbling buildings behind them.
Light from Nowhere filtered through the mist. Dark shapes moved in and out of the shadows at the edges of his vision to set Henry on edge. He hoisted Adam onto his shoulders and stared at Aela’s back.
She held her gaze to the ground, glancing up every few seconds, her eyes squinting in concentration. She pulled a gold pocket watch out of her jacket. It clicked open, and she held it out in front of her, turning to face a pile of rocks at the base of a mountain, rising to a mist-shrouded height and fading into shadows.
Aela glanced at Henry. “The entry into Solitude moves every day. We should have a few minutes still.” She pointed with the watch
before snapping it closed and sliding back inside her jacket. “It should be right behind those rocks.”
“Cool,” Adam said. “A secret passage.”
Henry wasn’t as excited as the boy. Tension throbbed in his neck and jaw. Parched his mouth. He thought about Amélie’s first day of elementary school. Samantha sat in the car, sobbing into a box of tissues. He held his daughter’s tiny hand while they walked up to the big double doors, the principal standing at the top of the stairs with a sunny smile for all the children coming into her kingdom.
Amélie stopped cold at the first step. He felt her shaking, so he dropped to his knees and turned her to face him.
Her shoulders heaved from throttled crying. The stress on her face made him want to snatch her up and take her home. They could all crawl into bed and wrap themselves with a fuzzy blanket. Forget about the world.
“What is it, baby?”
“What if they’re mean to me?”
“What? Why would they be mean to you?”
She shrugged. “What if they don’t like me, and I don’t have any friends? I’ll die.”
A hug, a kiss on top of her head, and his promise that everyone was going to love her. That was enough. She nodded, drew a dramatic breath, then turned back to the steps and pulled her hand from his.
“No, Daddy. I’ll do it.”
Standing in front of the entrance to Solitude, Henry drew his own dramatic breath. There was nobody to kiss the top of his head, but he stepped forward, anyway. “No, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll do it.”
Chips of rock under their feet crunched like frozen snow. Curving down, a path twisted into rocks that became boulders. Formations of stone, black and jagged. The path plunged into a withering gap, and when Henry followed Aela into the shadow, the smell changed from fetid breaths to dry smoke and wood. The light turned bright with a gas glow, cleaner than the dirty orange flicker from old candles and wet fire.
Henry turned to look over his shoulder at the sheer face of rock behind him, as if he’d walked through it like a sheet of water. It separated into a bright cavern. A cobbled courtyard before a castle wall set into the back rise of rough stone. An iron-bound door big enough for a tank to drive through dominated the stacked block of the castle. A row of Victorian streetlights curved to the door, hurling harsh light across the lane.
A buzzing flicker at the limit of his perception reminded Henry of the LED bulbs Samantha had insisted he install all over the house.
A small group of people stood in an arc, their backs to the door. Every face turned to follow Henry and Aela’s approach.
A tall man stood in the center. Broad-shouldered, but his face under the long gray hair that fell to either side was gaunt behind a long square beard. A black leather coat stopped mid-thigh, and he held a gnarled wooden cane pressed into the stone between his feet.
To his right was a dark mountain of a man. Even bigger than Henry had grown. His bald head glistened with sweat, and his bull shoulders rose and fell with his breath. His tight black tee displayed slabs of muscle. He stood on the balls of his feet, the black handle of a sword poking out over his left shoulder. Black gloves and blacker boots. Pants that were one with the night. The guy radiated a snarl-toothed menace.
A small woman stood on his other side. Dressed in a black robe with a white lining in her hood, she looked like a nun with her dark hands clasped in front of her.
They were flanked by a man on either side. Dressed the same, in rugged uniforms topped with helmets that reminded Henry of British explorers in Africa, they held spears across their bodies to angle away from the people next to them.
As he and Aela neared, the end soldiers stepped away and lowered their spears to point at Henry.
He drew Adam off his shoulders and set him on the ground. The boy brought his shield around, holding it in before him like a Spartan.
The old man’s mouth twitched in a smile, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth, and Henry finally exhaled. That ghost of a smile burned his doubts to nothing. He felt suddenly light.
What if they want to hurt me?
It didn’t matter. He knew that the old man wouldn’t hurt Adam, and for now … that’s enough.
When they were only a few paces from reaching the old man, Aela stepped out in front of Henry and spread her fingers to the side in a halting gesture. Henry stopped and reached up to scratch his nose with the edge of his coffee can. He was rewarded with that flickered smile, and he reached behind his thigh to brush his fingers through Adam’s hair.
The old man looked at Aela with pursed lips. “You left without telling anyone.” His deep voice trembled with emotion, a rough lilt on his words. “You left after I said you couldn’t.”
“Grandfather …”
“No.” A single shake of his head made his hair fall forward. “I know your reasons. You yelled them at me during an argument where I said some things … for which I am deeply regretful.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. Come stand behind me now. It’s not your excuses that suddenly worry me so.”
“Grandfather, you don’t understand.”
The old man drove the tip of his cane into the cobbles, and he threw his head back to clear the hair from his face. “Stand behind me. Now.”
Aela ducked and squeezed between the old man and the nun, turning to glance up at Henry before staring at the ground.
The old man looked into Henry’s eyes with a narrowed gaze. He swallowed bile and tried to keep his heart from tearing through his chest. “A demon in Solitude who is not wearing chains. What is there to say, Big Ben?”
The mountain to the old man’s right burst into action, jumping forward and reaching across his body to grab the sword handle.
Henry kept still as the blade cleared the enormous scabbard on Big Ben’s back with an ugly hiss. The humming blade whipped around in a blurring arc, trailing inky tendrils of power on its way to Henry’s neck.
Big Ben stopped before making contact, then stepped in to hold Henry’s eyes with his own. Wide and staring from a face gnarled by anger.
Henry gritted his teeth and lifted his chin from the burning blade. He swallowed, and the skin on his throat sizzled, pain lancing his spine.
Big Ben smiled. “This sword is called Demon Piercer. It’s your judge and jury, but I’m your executioner.”
Henry swallowed again. “The only thing that would make me think your penis was any smaller, was if you drove a Corvette.”
Big Ben snarled and drew the blade back, his neck muscles swelling.
The old man thrust out his hand. “Ben!”
Big Ben stabbed, and Henry stood firm.
The sword bit into his chest, driving against bone.
A burst of light washed away every color, and Adam launched from the ground, his wings blurring like a hummingbird.
The white fire of his sword met Demon Piercer, and a burst of white sparks like a fireworks finale showered over Big Ben's shocked face.
The dark blade flew through the air, its humming song pulsing as it spun.
The cowboy boots that Adam loved so much ripped apart as he dug his little black claws into the thick muscles of Big Ben’s abdomen. He spun with his sword sweeping a circle. The soldiers on the end took a single step, their spears twisting in to attack.
“Stay back!” Adam shouted.
The command’s power rolled out from the boy in a wave.
Everyone froze.
Big Ben rolled his eyes down to keep the terror on his chest in view, and Adam got a fresh grip. His shirt glistened with blood. Adam leaned in with his black eyes to the side of Big Ben’s head, and his lips drew back from his fangs as he whispered. “Choke yourself.”
The command powered against the stone, rebounding to double on itself, and Big Ben’s hands crept up his chest. He groaned with the effort to stop, but they crawled like spiders until they reached his throat. The fingers closed, and Big Ben’s forearms bulged.
Henry called out,
“Stop it, Adam.”
“No!” Adam’s shout was choked with tears. “He was going to hurt you!”
“Adam, please.” Henry took a step and held his hand out. Adam spun with a growl and slashed his claws across Henry’s arm. Blood swelled from the gashes, and he took another step. “Let him go.”
Adam leaped from Big Ben’s chest, and the big man dropped to his knees, swollen eyes staring up at the stone ceiling and veins standing out on his forehead.
Adam drove his claws into Henry’s shirt right through the rainbow. Blood gushed to mix with the blood flowing from Big Ben’s slice. A cold wound made by a demon killing blade. It stained the front of his shirt and poured to his waistband, trickling down the fronts of his thighs.
He pulled the struggling boy into an embrace.
Adam tore at Henry’s sleeves with slashes that left weeping scrapes in his arms, screaming cries driving into Henry’s ears.
Amélie had gone through a tantrum phase. Screaming and kicking. Samantha thought it was her parenting and had been terrified it had been her fault. Henry smothered her with love. Taking her blows and whispering into her ear over and over. Mommy and Daddy love you. Just a phase.
Blood from the wound in his chest filled his boots and spattered the ground. He wrapped Adam up, holding him in the same smothering embrace he had used on his daughter. Whispering in his ear.
Adam pressed his forehead into Henry’s chest, and when he drew away, his face was covered in a greasy black mask of Henry’s blood. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. But the anger within the boy was still building and seeking an outlet, still clawing to get away.
Henry fell to his knees, still holding Adam.
Here goes.
Henry flared, aiming his power into the clawing frenzy in his lap, and Adam screamed in indignant pain. The swirling power left his shocked eyes. He looked at Henry as if slapped. Betrayed and accusatory. His wings folded in, and his hand;s became pink fists, balled and ready for the next strike.
Big Ben fell over on his side, his hands still choking.