by Sawyer Black
“We are here,” Mandyel intoned, “at the behest of those in need. Is there such a one who requires the Army of the Lord?”
Abraham dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I do not fear those who can destroy my body. Rather, I fear those who can destroy my soul.”
“Then we are God’s servants for your good.”
“Then through God’s grace, I will destroy my enemies that they shall know peace.”
Mandyel drew a breath and shouted, “Nay, do not think I have come to bring peace!”
The angel pulled a blazing blade from his back, sizzling with the same fire swirling in his eyes. “I have not come wielding peace, but a sword!”
Mandyel and the angels rose from the floor with a single beat of their wings that resounded with thunder. The nuns fell to their knees, staring into the brilliant shimmer of holy light. Henry followed, lowering his eyes to the floor.
Now, that’s a fucking entrance.
He looked back up at Mandyel. The rest of the angels stood as if waiting for flapjacks. Smug smiles and boredom. Mandyel sheathed his sword and bent to pull Abraham to his feet. “Let us prepare for the defense of the Children of Solitude, my son.”
Abraham nodded as he stood. Mandyel turned him to stand at his side, an arm draped across the old man’s shoulders. “And this is where it ends, Paladin Henry Black, for though we both now serve the Lord, our paths shall diverge.”
Henry shook his head. “No, I can’t … I don’t know what to do.”
Mandyel smiled, and Henry saw the amused glint in his eye. “Come on, pal. Even though you trust in the Lord, don’t walk into battle unarmed.”
“What does that mean?”
“Rest and prepare. Let Hell send its armies to this place. Let the pastor send his priests. Give them the time to look away, then strike in His name.”
“What, am I just supposed to party?”
Mandyel glanced down the line of angels. “Do you really think you have something to offer in the coming fight.”
“Maybe.”
Abraham looked uncomfortable under Mandyel’s arm, his eyes shifting from the floor to the glowing hand hovering over his chest.
Mandyel chuckled. “You’ve thought of others enough. Take a moment for yourself. Sleep. And prepare for your task.” He turned to go, halting when Henry spoke again.
“But … Will I see you again?”
Mandyel shook his head. “Only if we fail.”
Abraham cast a panicked look over his shoulder as Mandyel and his angels ushered the old man and the soldiers of Solitude into the corridor.
Frank Baelzor had been standing behind them, hidden from view during the exchange. His head bobbed back and forth as each angel passed, and when the last one left, he clapped his hands and stepped forward with a grin. “That was pretty cool, right?”
Henry turned and walked down the hall toward the room where he’d stayed the last time.
Time.
Mandyel had said to take time for himself. Every minute he took for himself was what?
A day for Amélie? A week?
He made it to his door and threw it open. He wanted to rip every Goddamned clock off the motherfucking wall. Flip the bed over and tear the sheets apart. Tip the lanterns over and set the whole place on fire.
For a guy making his own choices, I feel like I don’t have a say in anything.
Pastor Owen’s face sprung into his mind. So understanding. So forgiving.
The door opened, and Henry spun around with his claws up. Boothe stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He walked across the room, moving like an old man, dropping into the chair next to the bed with a weary grunt.
Henry leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “What’s your fucking problem?”
“The portals, Henry. They take a lot of energy.”
“Poor fucking baby. Suck it up.”
Boothe shook his head. “Why do so many people like you? I’ve never understood it.”
Henry sighed. “To be honest, I don’t really know, either.” He dropped onto the bed, stretching out and driving his head into the pillow. “Tell me, doctor. Am I like this because my mommy never loved me?”
Boothe chuckled. “No, you’re like this because you are constantly fighting your nature.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“You must feed, Henry. There are demands on your energy of which you’re not even aware. From moving through the shadows to your heartbeat. From basic thoughts to the skills of a Paladin.”
“Like what skills?”
“I don’t know, Henry. I’ve never seen a Paladin. But I’ve seen many demons.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Demons are made for one purpose. That purpose may exhibit in different ways. Charlie Mara’s speed. Frank Baelzor’s shapeshifting. My silver tongue. Still, that purpose is to transport souls to Hell. Either those of the recently deceased or those you have ended yourself.”
“I’ve tried not to kill that much, but sometimes it’s really fucking hard.”
“Of course it’s hard. You’re supposed to kill. Those who deserve it. Those you’re ordered to finish. That is our purpose.”
“Pastor Owen always told me not to kill. Made me promise.”
“And why do think he would do that?”
Henry remembered the pain of his hunger. The nagging feeling that something was missing. That he was forgetting something. The struggle to keep that promise. “He did it to keep me weak. To keep me from gaining the strength that might rain shit in his garden. He wanted to keep me on the sidelines.”
The chair creaked as Boothe stood. “I believe that is the reason, yes. You have made great strides, Henry, but you must strive for more. Don’t deny what you are.”
“That’s just the thing, though. I do accept it. I just fucking hate it.”
Boothe sighed. “I need to rest, Henry. I will see you in the morning. We shall get started then.”
“Whatever.”
The door closed with a soft click. Henry crossed his forearms over his head, covering his eyes.
The door whispered open, and Henry shook his head under his forearms. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, okay?”
As the door clicked shut again, the bed shook with freshly settled weight. Henry snatched his arms from his eyes, and Aela dropped onto his chest, pressing her face into his neck and sliding a knee across his waist.
“What are you doing?” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. Her scent hit his palate, and he lowered his arms to drop a hand on her back. And then he froze. Her earthy musk mingled with the memory of Samantha’s jasmine, and his breath became trapped in his chest.
He raised his arms overhead and stared at the ceiling. The lanterns’ flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the cracked plaster.
Aela took a deep breath and slid down his body, rising on her knees and crawling backward off the bed. She turned and locked the door, then shrugged out of her leather jacket.
There are nuns right outside in the hallway!
He didn’t stop her.
She kicked off one boot. The other.
Your grandfather’s going to war with a bunch of angels!
He let her continue.
Aela loosened the laces on the front of her shirt, crossed her arms to grab the tail out of her waistband, then slid the shirt off, her bare breasts rising with her hands over head. She pulled the shirt away, and her hair tumbled in a spread, falling to brush the skin above her nipples.
Henry’s breath left in an explosive sigh, along with his objections. His growing erection pressed against his jeans, and he was afraid to move, but also afraid to stay still.
She loosened her belt and released the clasp under her belly button. Then Aela bent forward and slid her pants down over the swell of her hips, turning so he could see her ass as it popped free. The leather creaked, and her lips parted as she stood.
Heat flooded his crotch. Burst into his cheeks.
She stepped forward, resting her hand on the footboard post.
Henry cried out as he swung his legs over the opposite side and curled over the fist he drove into his own gut. “No, not like this.”
Aela gasped. “What?”
“This,” he said, waving his hand over his entire wretched monstrous body.
Henry jumped to his feet and turned around with his back to the wall. She stood with a hand over her mouth, the other pressed against her stomach. Yellow light gleamed off the ridges of a light but muscular body. Solid power under soft compassion. Pouting lips and a face full of quiet sorrow. Henry had to drag his eyes to the floor.
He thought of Mike Serafino. As if he were a Sunday outfit. Aela gasped in shock, and he looked up, seeing Serafino reflected in her wide eyes.
She stepped back, hugging herself to cover her breasts. The lines of her abdominal muscles ran all the way down into the swell of her pubes.
Henry wanted to punch his stupid penis back into flaccidity.
He spread his arms. “This is what I want to give you. This man that I’ve pretended to be over and over … like a costume. But he’s not me.”
He thought of good old Henry Black, and she took another step back as his form changed to the balding frump that only one woman in his whole life had been able to love. “Or there’s this guy. But he’s not me either.”
Then Henry thought of his true form. The demon with the horns and scars and a missing hand. The murderer. The monster. Without clothes his erection sprang up, bobbing with his heartbeat, and he was glad his skin was red enough to hide his embarrassment. Bare in front of her, body and spirit. At least she’d see how much his body craved her.
“But this is all I got.” He lowered his eyes. “And it’s not what I want to give you. You deserve so much more.”
“Henry,” she whispered.
Still, he refused to meet her eyes. His dick finally got the hint, deflating as he shook his head. “I don’t know why you would want this. Why anybody would. “He held his hand out to forestall any response. “I don’t want to know.”
Henry cleared his throat. “But I want you … I really do … I just can’t.”
He hadn’t heard her come to the bed, but he did feel her breath on his chest. “Look at me.”
Henry lowered his arms and shook his head, looking over her shoulder instead.
“Look at me.” She reached up and put a hand on either cheek, forcing his face even with hers. Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled. Henry sighed in relief.
Hate how I look, just don’t hate who I am.
Aela shook her head. “If you could only see what I do.” She dropped her hands, wiping her eyes and sniffing. “Let’s get some rest. We’ll talk another time, okay?”
Henry slumped in relief, and he nodded in dumb agreement.
Aela walked around the foot of the bed, pausing to bend over as she gathered her clothes. She glanced to see if he was watching, and they both burst out laughing when he jerked his eyes up to the clock wall.
Henry wished it was dark, and the lanterns guttered out. Aela hissed. “Did you do that?”
“I think so, yeah.” He could see her in the blackness. Like the glowing face of an irradiated watch. A tiny glow surrounded her body as she stretched her hand out to find the edge of the bed, her eyes wide.
He dropped onto the bed, sliding under the sheet and rolling away from her. The bed swayed as she crawled in and pressed up against his back, sighing into his hair. Her warmth spread through him, and he tried to stay still as he cried.
Her hand crept across his ribs, and instead of wiping his tears away, he put his fingers over hers. He stared into the darkness as she fell asleep, wondering about the fairness.
Because now Henry was afraid of losing Aela, too.
Chapter Nineteen
Henry and Boothe stood at the top of another tower in Solitude, leaning out and watching the battle below against the latest incursion.
Mists above the city had turned to black smoke, swirling and twisting as if alive.
Fire erupted from the ground, lava pluming into the air. White flames from an angel’s burning sword shot out to meet it. The sparking clash sending a shower of coals into the upturned faces of humans and demons. Ravagers and cultists.
Colored fireballs of energy crisscrossed the courtyard. Thundering explosions of dark power. In the middle stood Mandyel and Abraham. The archangel’s holy fire spreading in deadly arcs. Abraham’s glowing cane full of righteous streams of blue light. Sap from the Dreaming Tree splashing out to shower Solitude’s enemies with nightmares.
Demons clawing at the sticky liquid covering their faces, screaming in terror and tearing at their own skin.
Adam’s bright light flitting around, swiping with his Prince Valiant sword. His shield ablaze on his arm.
He’s probably safer there than anywhere he’s been so far.
A rallying call and the soldiers of Solitude poured from the gate with Angelique and Bariel leading the charge. The clash exploded up the tower in a rush of noise and light, and the combined armies of Hell and the Order were driven back.
The demons melted into the ground in retreat. The cultists' priests stepping back through the curtain of rock as the entrance to Solitude closed again. A cheer dying on the beating of wings as two dragons with liquid fire dripping from their gaping maws loomed over the walls.
Mandyel’s angels rose, their nets extended to catch the jets of fire belched into the thick air. Mandyel himself shot from the bloody earth to decapitate one of one of the beasts in a stroke. The other dragon reared back and turned tail. Flying back into the dark mist, the smoke hardening into the barrier that hid Solitude from the rest of the Forgotten, and the cheer rose anew.
They were safe again. For now.
Henry pushed back from the rail and turned to Boothe. “You feel good about leaving them?”
“No, but we must.”
“Fuck, I just wish there was something we could do.”
Frank knocked the stone with his knuckles. “Did you see those dragons? They were badass!”
Henry spread his hands and looked at Frank with a growl.
“What?” Frank said. “They were cool. I’m just saying.”
Henry shook his head and turned back to Boothe. “Do you know where Aela and Maria are? I’d kinda like to leave before the next volley.”
“I believe they were gathering a few final things before setting out.”
“Girl stuff, huh?”
“God help us.”
Henry glanced over at Frank, but he was staring at the aftermath with an open-mouthed smile. Henry leaned toward Boothe and lowered his voice. “Aela came to my room last night.”
Boothe frowned. “Why tell me that, Henry?”
“I don’t know, but there’s nobody else to tell, so suck it.”
“Fine, Henry. You see, when a man and a woman love each other very much …”
“God damn it!” Henry shouted, then he noticed Boothe’s smile. “Fucker.”
“Were the advances unwanted?”
“Yes … well, no. Kind of? I … pushed her away. Look, I don’t know. It just seemed like a weird time to get all hot and bothered, you know?”
“Why is it a weird time?”
“Fucking look around!”
“Was there opportunity?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And desire?”
“I guess.”
“Then the time was right. Why did you fight it?”
“Because, dammit. Look at me.”
“Maybe you should look at yourself.”
Frank tapped Henry’s arm. “He’s right, you know. You're not so bad for a demon. You’re actually pretty cool looking.”
Henry sneered with a shake of his head. “Who the fuck asked you?”
Frank raised his hands. “Whoa, dude. Just trying to help.”
Boothe sighed. “It’s not his fault, Henry. In fact, it’s probably Maria
’s.”
“How?”
“She was a fertility goddess. A minor Iberian deity. Prehistoric and quite powerful before the rise of Jehovah. She thrives on conflict resolved by the power of love.”
“Kinda like Huey Lewis?”
Boothe sighed. “She’s a matchmaker, Henry. It’s what got her into trouble over a thousand years ago.”
“Trouble you got her out of?”
“More like trouble she got me into.”
“What happened?”
Frank leaned in. “Yeah, what happened?”
Boothe looked at Adam’s father. “I made a deal very much like Henry’s. And it turned out very much the same.”
“Only you saved the one you loved.”
Boothe ducked his head and looked at Henry. “And I would do it again and again. Such is her hold over me.”
Henry looked down at the courtyard, now clear of combatants. Dark and empty.
Would I do it all again?
Knowing what I know now?
He looked over at Boothe, and the angel’s face was tight with worry.
Henry chuckled. “I probably would, too.”
Light flickered from the stairwell. Footsteps clapping off the stone.
The three of them turned to watch Maria and Aela enter the balcony in front of Ramiel’s angelic glow.
“You know,” Frank said. “Marisol’s a bitch.”
Henry twisted to look at him, but Frank just nodded.
“No really. Sometimes, I hate her. Like this deep ache that twists my guts up, and I just want to spit her out, but I can’t. I’m gonna leave my son in the middle of Armageddon. That sweet, amazing boy. That shining fucking light that is the only truly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, except for Marisol. Except for that woman, that angel. I’m gonna leave him in the hands of the ones who have been trying to kill him his entire life. Go back to Hell. And not to save her … just to see her. If I can’t bring her out, just seeing her again before I die will be enough.”
Frank swiped his eyes with the backs of his wrists and sniffed. He grinned with a shrug and clapped his hands. “I’m hooked.”
Henry looked at Boothe, but the angel’s eyes were on Maria. Henry followed his gaze, eyes passing over Maria to light on Aela’s face. Back in her leathers, messenger bag on her hip. She grinned at him, and Henry’s breath hitched like someone had splashed his face with icy water.