Monstrous- The Complete Collection

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Monstrous- The Complete Collection Page 55

by Sawyer Black


  Henry couldn’t blame her. By the time they made it to the bottom, he was bent nearly double with pain, every breath tearing at the scar in his chest.

  Aela drove her shoulder under his arm, and they hurried down a hallway with a heavy door set in the end. The sounds of battle raged on the other side. He could smell the fear and desperation from Ravagers and soldiers of Solitude alike.

  His mouth watered, and he wept with relief when she jammed a key into the lock and drove the door open with her hip.

  A Ravager died at his feet as he entered the courtyard. An arrow through his wide mouth, the man’s eyes rolled up to meet Henry’s as his soul sank through the dirt. Henry dropped to his knees, snatched the life-force into his mental grasp, and breathed it in like he inhaled Aela’s scent.

  The energy burst through him, spreading to the tips of his fingers. Colors brightened. Action slowed.

  Men and demons dying all around him, and Henry fed with glee, banishing his guilt as he grew swollen with power.

  Pain split his chest, driving between his shoulder blades. The tunnel dug through him by Big Ben’s betrayal closed with a searing hammer blow, and Henry turned his face to the gray sky and roared.

  It felt so fucking good.

  He pulled the shadows at the base of the wall around him and flung himself into the darkness, riding the waves under the troughs of light faster than thought. He burst into the middle of a pile of Ravagers hacking at a squad of pike men, and they perished in the blur of Henry’s attack.

  Like in the forest when the Lost had swarmed, Henry’s heart beat out a rhythm faster than the actions of the lesser beings on the battlefield.

  He stepped in front of each slash and every blow. Spinning and clawing, he danced toward the robed cultists at the top of the rise, pulling more power into his soul with the passing of every enemy.

  A final wall of flame lit the courtyard as it screamed over his head, and the cultists stepped back one by one, disappearing into the wall as if were made of water.

  The entrance is closing!

  Henry dove into the shadows and launched himself at the last cultist, his robes swallowed by the stone. Henry thrust his hand out. It sank through the stone and caught a fistful of fabric, his claws sinking into flesh. The liquid became solid, and the stone closed over his hand, capturing both he and the cultist in the wall surrounding Solitude.

  Henry screamed in frustration, lifting his feet to plant them on either side of where his hand plunged into the stone. He bunched his muscles in preparation, and flared as he pulled.

  His fist exploded from the stone in a shower of rocks and powder. The cultist flew out, swinging overhead and hitting the ground with a splat.

  Henry dropped the soaking handful of shredded flesh and bent to the cultist’s twisting lump of a body. He pulled the sinking soul of the dead cultist into him, wiped the blood from his claws onto his pants, and looked up at the nearing line of soldiers.

  He stepped back with a growl, his ass pressing into the rock behind him. Ramiel and the other Trackers hovered in the air, their light shining in the eyes of the men and women of Solitude. Tears on their faces and blood on their hands. Henry dropped his claws. And then he heard it.

  Applause. Cheers.

  They were clapping for him. Henry Black.

  He almost took a bow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The cheering quieted as light filled the area between Henry and his new fans. Ramiel descended with his wings spread, his armor charred by Order From Chaos fire. His feet touched the bloody ground, and Henry rushed forward to greet him.

  Ramiel dropped to one knee, his fist to his heart. The soldiers of Solitude hushed, the only sound now the scraping of their boots.

  Before the angel could plant his other fist on the ground in salute, Henry grabbed it and pulled him to his feet. He wrapped the Tracker in a hug as enthusiastic as Adam’s had been, and the soldiers erupted in shouts as loud as the Ravagers preparing for the charge. An angel and a demon holding each other in brotherhood, fighting for Solitude together.

  “I feared for you,” Ramiel said in his ear.

  They separated, and Henry shook his head. “I hate myself too much to let me off the hook that easily.”

  He saw Aela’s grandfather over the angel’s shoulder. Henry stepped to the side to catch his eye. “Abraham!”

  The old man nodded, bowing his head and looking away from Ramiel.

  Henry made room for Abraham and pointed at Ramiel’s chest. “That’s a little bright. Can you dial it back a little?”

  Ramiel laughed, but his glow diminished to a point over his heart, pulsing and spinning before winking out. Abraham came into their group, rocking with the same good-natured blows to the back and shoulders that had fallen on Henry and Ramiel. The crowd still cheering.

  The glow from the other two angels filtered through the crowd as they joined their brother. The soldiers split apart as they stepped up, their own lights dimming to nothing.

  A man and a woman. Cast in stone no less perfect than Ramiel’s, the man a creamy brown agate, the woman a shining onyx.

  Ramiel indicated the woman. “Angelique avenges murderous lust.” He tipped his head to the man. “Bariel ushers the tides against his enemies.”

  Abraham shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. “To stand among such as these.”

  Henry leaned over and bumped him with an elbow. “Imagine how I feel.”

  Something hit him in the back hard enough to rock him forward a step. He spun, and Aela lifted her hand for another blow. He let it fall and crossed his arms. “Hi, Aela,” he said with a bright smile. “What’s up?”

  “Damn it, Henry! You could have been killed.”

  “So could you.”

  Abraham’s brow drew down in consternation. “Why are you away from the Tree?”

  Hands on her hips, Aela said, “I was helping Henry.”

  Henry turned to the angels over his shoulder. “She’s an independent woman.”

  Ramiel and Bariel looked nonplussed, but Angelique grinned, her brilliant teeth shining out from her dark lips.

  Henry turned back, and Aela was drawing a breath to argue. Abraham was bracing himself for the storm. Henry jumped between them, hanging an arm across each shoulder and turning them to walk back inside. “Shouldn’t we be getting to the next place they’ll attack?”

  “No,” Abraham said. “We have about eight hours before the next entrance thins at the south tower.”

  “Is there any other way in here?”

  “Perhaps scaling the cliffs or bridging the river, but they’d lose more with that kind of assault than just waiting for us. The mists will turn them away, and that’s even without the help from Heaven.”

  “We are not technically from Heaven,” Ramiel said.

  Henry looked back with a smile, even though Ramiel appeared sick from admitting his transgression. “Oh, off the reservation, huh?”

  The angel nodded. “A Tracker can only penetrate the mists when assigned or called. We were waiting just on the other side of the border when the boy began his song.”

  Angelique clanged her sword against her armored shoulder. “There was a dispute over who would get to answer the call.”

  Aela stayed pressed into his side, but Abraham slid out from under Henry’s arm. “They combat the magic of the priests while we attack demons and Ravagers on the ground.”

  “They’re not priests,” Henry said.

  “Maybe not as you see them.”

  “They’re just plain old cultists. Sick fucks who want to hurt little kids.”

  “Do they all do these magics?”

  “Well, no, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It means they have ascended through the ranks high enough to learn these magics and to command an army in battle.”

  “Fine. What’s your point?”

  “Just one of perspective. I like to teach.”

  “You do seem to like to talk. I’ll give you t
hat.”

  Abraham looked at Henry through the fall of his gray hair. “This is only the second time an angel or a demon has walked through Solitude, and I wonder what is next.”

  “Yeah, I wonder the same thing. What is next?”

  “We will prepare for the next attack, and you and Aela will pack your things.”

  Henry and Aela stopped in their tracks. A few steps later, Abraham stopped, too. He looked around as if he couldn’t find them, finally spotting the pair behind him and turning around. His eyes twinkled above his smile.

  The soldiers broke around them as they stood in the center of the hallway. Kasey came into view, breaking from the stream. He stepped in front of Abraham. “Sister Gladys says their work was much easier this time. Says to do whatever you did the next time, too.”

  Abraham guided Kasey around him with a hand on the spear man’s shoulder. “We’ll do what we can, son.”

  Henry dropped his arm and watched Kasey jog back into the thinning rush of soldiers. “What is this bullshit?”

  “What’s important to you, Henry?”

  “What?”

  Abraham nodded and raised a finger to his chin. “Let me tell you what’s important to me. My granddaughter is important to me. The people inside these walls.” He spread his arms and spun in a slow circle. “These walls themselves. The Dreaming Tree.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “What I’m getting at, Henry, is that I don’t give a shit about what you think is important.”

  Henry slumped in confusion. He looked at Aela, but she stared at her grandfather as if he had sprouted a tail.

  Abraham moved in and put one hand behind Aela’s neck. The other he put behind Henry’s. He drew them into a circle, pressing their foreheads together. “I know now that the only thing that matters is Adam. The boy who can heal Solitude and its people. The city has been waiting a long time for his arrival. Many of these people even longer than I have, and what does time mean to someone as young as the both of you?”

  He dropped his hand from Henry’s neck, and Henry stood while Abraham drew his granddaughter in closer. The old man closed his eyes and kissed her cheek. “Your twenty-seven years is gone in a breath. I’ve been in Solitude for over a thousand years. They are both equal in this equation if the boy doesn’t survive.”

  Henry lifted his hands in a helpless shrug. He turned to Ramiel, but the angel was nodding. “He is right in this, Henry. We must find the boy. His existence is too beautiful for me to go on as I have.”

  “But what about Solitude?”

  Angelique leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “No Sister of Solitude will suffer for my absence. I will stay.”

  Henry pointed to Bariel. “What about him?”

  The angel didn’t speak for himself. Instead, Angelique threw herself off the wall and draped her arm over his shoulder. “He will stay, too.”

  “Fine.” Henry turned. “Let’s suppose I don’t know where to look.”

  Abraham stepped back from his granddaughter, tears shining on his face. “Is that really true?”

  Henry thought of the Dreaming Tree. Then he thought of the Tree on the other side of the mist. A chessboard at its base.

  Fuck.

  Henry slumped in defeat. “Yeah, I know where to look.”

  “Good.” Abraham pushed the hair from his face, exposing his smile. He looked at Aela with a tilt of his head and turned away. “Goodbye, my dearest one.”

  The old man raised his hand in a final wave then turned the corner.

  The angels shuffled into a circle. They held hands, their heads bowed as if lost in prayer.

  After a few moments, Henry realized it was exactly what they were doing. He felt embarrassment rise into his face, like he’d been intruding. He shook his head and turned to Aela, but she was gone, turning the opposite corner as her grandfather.

  Fuck!

  He lurched into a run, racing to catch her.

  The angels can find their own way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Henry edged up next to Aela.

  She marched down the corridor with her hands balled into fists at her sides, driving her boot heels into the floor.

  He thought better of saying anything, following in silence as she took turn after turn. They reached a door, and she threw it open to stomp inside. He hung on the threshold, and she bent to the side to retrieve her messenger bag from the back of a chair.

  “Already packed, huh?”

  She grabbed the door. “It’s always packed. I’m going to take a bath to get the blood out of my hair. You can either wait or find your way back.” She slammed it in his face.

  Henry waited.

  He looked down at the dried blood flaking from his skin. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and he leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

  Mike Serafino sprang into his imagination, and Henry wondered if he could bring the man’s likeness to fruition. Instead, he pushed the image away to stand as the demon he was. His nubbin, twisted with swirling scars. The black gnarl of skin on his chest and under his shoulder blade. Dark hair swept back from his forehead, neat and tidy. Maybe a little shorter?

  Black boots beneath the cuffs of his black jeans, and the black tee, new and dry. The Hill of Beans coffee can seemed a bit much, but he kind of liked the look. Like jewelry. Besides, it was funny. The Henry of his imagination nodded, and he opened his eyes.

  I’ll be damned, I did it.

  New clothes and a new coffee can not dented or stained with blood. Unfortunately, he couldn’t imagine a fresh new hand.

  Aela’s door flew open. She froze when she saw him.

  “Sorry for slamming the door in your face.”

  “That’s okay. We both had some things to think about.”

  She slung her bag over her head and pushed past Henry into the hall. He followed with a smile so wide, he thought his cheeks might cramp.

  They found Ramiel at the base of the Dreaming Tree. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he sipped from a tiny cup, staring up into the leaves. When they stopped at his side, he said, “I can see the boy’s hand in this tree.”

  “Yeah,” Henry said. “He’s fucking special.”

  Ramiel rose and offered his empty cup to a passing nun with a bow of his head. She returned his bow as she took the cup from his hand. Ramiel turned with a smile. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, please,” Henry said.

  Aela shifted her weight and looked from the demon to the angel and back. “Where are we going, exactly?”

  Henry smiled. “To the Tree of Life outside the mist.”

  “How are we going to get there? The Ravagers’ army is outside every door.”

  Henry’s smile became a grin. “We’re gonna fly.”

  “I thought the mist would turn everybody away.”

  “It does,” Ramiel said. “But always to the Tree.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed and turned her wide eyes to Henry.

  Ramiel turned and walked through the halls with a spring in his step that was practically a contagion.

  Ready to rumble.

  At the base of the tower that had nearly beaten Henry earlier, the angel stepped aside and swept his hand toward the stairs. “After you.”

  Aela took a deep breath and slung her bag higher up onto her shoulder. She jogged up the stairs, and Henry followed.

  He hit the top without effort and shielded his eyes from the light growing from Ramiel’s breast. Like the sun, it flared whenever he spread his wings. “Come to me, children.”

  Show off.

  Henry pressed up against him. Aela jumped forward, clinging to the angel’s side with her eyes squeezed tight. He had been in the angel’s net throughout his first flight. The second time he’d been almost dead. This time, Henry’s heart pounded with excitement.

  A single beat of his wings and Ramiel lifted from the balcony. Then they were airborne.

  The mist swirled around them as they soared away from Solitude, the Forgot
ten shrinking behind them.

  Henry’s stomach rose into his throat as they dropped, and the mist disintegrated to a broad plain yawning before them, the Tree rising into the shadows of roiling clouds.

  Ramiel brought them in gently, and Aela jumped to the ground, opening her eyes and clutching her jacket in pale fists. Henry stepped away, and Ramiel extinguished his light. Henry turned to Aela and grinned. “On the wings of angels.”

  She grinned back and turned to Ramiel. “Thank you so much.”

  The angel bowed with a grin of his own. “It is my pleasure.”

  “Well, I ain’t getting any deader.” Henry turned and walked toward the tree. He heard their footsteps following, and he nodded to himself.

  Let’s get this over with.

  In a space between the roots at the base of the ancient tree was a stone table topped with a chess board. Round and set with three backless chairs, only two people sat at the game. Randall had his back to the tree, but his opponent was a woman rather than Boothe. Voluptuous in a tight white dress, black hair falling in broad curls past her shoulders. She leaned forward with her face set in concentration. She was familiar. It tickled Henry’s mind like a gnat buzzing past his eyes. Bumping through his hair.

  He shook his head and stopped at the edge of the table. “Howdy, Randall.”

  The fallen angel reached for his knight as Henry’s shadow descended. He moved it to claim one of the woman’s pawns. He didn’t look at Henry, instead leaning back to cross his arms while waiting for her next move.

  “Don’t ignore me, Randall.”

  Randall ignored him.

  Henry snapped his fingers in front of the angel’s poker face. “Don’t fucking do this.”

  Randall looked away.

  Henry kicked the base of the stone table, and the board slid off, dumping pieces on the ground. “Talk to me, Goddamn it!”

  Randall jumped from his chair. “Henry! I can’t talk to you. Trackers are nearby, and I’m required to alert them to your presence.”

  Ramiel growled, and the color drained from Randall’s face. The Tracker stood at Henry’s back. “You will not.”

  Randall nodded and reclaimed his seat. “Of course I won’t.”

 

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